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Cakewalk

Rania Musharbash has short curly hair, pretty blue eyes, and she loves wearing athletic clothes and jewelry. She loves earrings but her favorite accessories are simple rings. She is not too tall; however, when she’s in a room everyone notices. With a loud personality and an extremely creative mind, Rania is a very fun person to be around. She is an expert at event planning. Since 2005, she has planned many successful events including her brother’s wedding with six hundred guests. Rania prides herself on turning dream events into realities by simply talking to her clients. Her hands make the impossible possible. They are extremely important in her success because she does a lot of backdrops and centerpieces from scratch. She turns construction paper into beautiful and colorful flowers. 

Rania co-owns an event planning business called Lasting Moments. There are two locations: one in Canada and the other in Colorado. They started their business about two months ago and they’re “just getting started” as Rania says. On days that she has events, Rania plans for everything. Usually with visible papercuts all over her hands from getting the centerpieces prepared, she leaves her house ready to take on the day. She has supreme time management skills and she is extremely organized. As an event planner, good vendor contacts are important assets, which thankfully, she has.

           There are high expectations when it comes to event planning. Not only from clients but also from the event planners themselves. Rania always wants to outdo herself and takes every event seriously. Event planning can be complicated and extremely stressful. Many people might think it’s easy but Rania believes it is the complete opposite: sometimes things just don’t go as planned.

When asked to compare corporate events and social events, Rania said they were completely different. She prefers social events simply because she gets to see her clients’ dreams come true one step at a time. In order to assure satisfaction, Rania asks a couple of important questions that give her a better understanding of a client’s needs. She first asks about their expectations, budget and theme.  She also always finds out if there is a religion or culture that she should take into consideration. “Honestly the little things count more than the big things,” she said.

The budget is one of the most important things to keep in mind while planning an event. Rania always meets with clients to make sure both parties are on the same page. Dealing with clients is a part of the job and it is not always the easiest. It is important to have the communication skills to deal with complicated clients. “They want a champagne lifestyle but they live on a beer budget,” Rania said jokingly. When you deal with situations like that, take a deep breath and explain to the clients why they can’t have certain things. Do not just say no. Instead, give them alternatives that fit their budget.

After meeting with clients, it’s time for picking out the venue location. Rania is the kind of event planner who doesn’t make decisions without a client’s consent; she includes them every step of the way.  “The event is for my client not for me,” she said.

Event planning can be complicated, fun and hectic but for Rania, it is a hobby she can’t live without. When asked about her favorite event, Rania’s answer was her brother’s wedding. It was a six hundred guest event. Planning it was tough to handle, but she knew that with enough preparations, she could do it. She had to make sure to get the right flowers, a limo and many other necessary items.  The most important task, however, was making sure the day went perfectly. From the bride getting her hair done in the morning all the way to cake cutting at the ceremony. It’s hard work but definitely worth every drop of sweat.     

            While it is important to always plan ahead, event planners know that sometimes, for better or for worse, things don’t go as planned. Last-minute parties like the Superbowl are common in event planning.  Rania once had three days to plan one. When asked about her experience planning such parties, she answered that she loves them as long as she has easy access to the necessary equipment.

Rania’s least favorite event to work are bachelor and bachelorette parties. According to her, no matter how much you plan, something always goes the opposite way. Everyone gets drunk and things start going bad. “No matter how fancy and nice you plan it or how much time you spend to make sure everything goes as planned, something will end up on the other side of the world. They think that’s the last time they can have fun and drink,” she said.  “I have been to many events and I have seen it all,” she added while laughing.

         A huge part of having a successful event planning business is a good online presence. Hashtags help get attention from potential clients, so it is important to have a well-maintained web page. Rania is just getting started with her business and it will take some time before social media gets as big as she wants it to be.

While there are many apps available to make event planning easy, most of them are quite confusing. It is important to keep in mind that having an event planner is a way to turn dream events into realities without lifting a finger. 

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And the Deep River Ran On: A Profile of President Freeman

When asked what he would put on a billboard for the whole world to see, President Freeman answered, “you shall love your crooked neighbour, with your crooked heart.” A line from the poem “As I Walked Out One Evening” by poet Wystan Hugh Auden.  Freeman’s optimism for our planet’s future and love for our neighbors’ springs from his time as CCD’s President interacting with dedicated and active students.

Comparing his role as president to that of a symphony conductor, Freeman observed that he wouldn’t be able to successfully do his job without the students, staff, and faculty at CCD. “... [A] conductor alone cannot make music - it takes a whole symphony to make music. And I like the notion that what presidents do best is we stand there and help the musicians perform to their absolute best. And those musicians for CCD, first off, are our students, our staff, and our faculty. I can’t exclude any of those from the symphony or we wouldn’t have a symphony.”

CCD is a symphony that will soon have a new conductor. At the end of December 2020, Dr. Freeman will close his final show as conductor of CCD’s symphony and reflect on a life filled with learning.

From a young age, Freeman was academically inclined and devoted but also on a tough grind. He grew up in a Catholic family with four brothers and a sister. “My first job was when I was nine years old. I would sweep the front and back of the convent, where the sisters of St. Joseph lived and I would get paid fifty cents, a glass of milk, and cookies.”

This continued every Saturday for the young boy. He was such a hard worker that he returned one snow day with nothing to sweep and after repeatedly asking, “Are you sure there is nothing I could do?” he was paid his traditional allowance. He recalled afterwards a sister saying to him, “Study hard this week and you will be fine.”

Due to the same persistence and diligence he showed so early on in life, he would later receive a certificate in economics from Fircroft College, a bachelor's degree in sociology and economics from Antioch College, and a master’s degree in labor and industrial relations from the University of Illinois. These would eventually earn him the titles of Associate Professor of Economics at Jackson State University, Senior President and Provost at University of Indianapolis, and President at Albany State University.

Everette recalled one memory when he worked as a lonely instructor at Rutgers University. During his time there, he attended his first convocation for the institution's president, Edward J. Bloustein. In his speech, he said, “pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn.” quoted from poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay.

The moment left Freeman so astonished that he asked the president about the origin of the quote. To his surprise, Bloustein informed him the book, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems, was sitting on his desk in his office; all he had to do was let the receptionist know, write down the source of the quote, and while he was there: sit in the president’s chair.

Freeman sheepishly made his way to the office and immediately noticed the book but before jotting down the name he said, “I eased into the chair, it rocked for a moment and I thought to myself ‘I could do this.’”

And eventually, he did. Over the course of two decades, he not only has carried numerous titles in institutions but has carried the tradition of sitting in the president’s chair and creating a line of memories for students.

             In September of 2013, he received a call from Nancy McCallin, former president of CCD, confirming he was the finalist to be the upcoming president. 

This news reminded him of a time at the start of his career when he would teach non-traditional adult students at Rutgers University in the evenings. “...[W]hen this job was offered to me, I said, ‘you get to go full circle, working with non-traditional students … you can end your career in the same place. So, I thought it was the best job on earth coming to the Community College of Denver.’”

Serving as President of CCD allowed him to once again work in a similar environment surrounded by diversity and equity. During his time at CCD, Freeman has helped the college increase diversity and student success with over 11,00 students from 45 countries, improve support programs, and has received various multi-million dollar grants for STEM ensuring a pathway of opportunities and accomplishments for all CityHawks.

He spoke promising words of the college’s aim for the near future and stated, “CCD will be thriving and selling in key areas...that is equity, accessibility, and quality. CCD has a laser-like focus on equity: equity in the way we do pedagogy, help students with outcomes, and how we try to have faculty and staff that reflects the student body.”

There will still be ways to maintain communication with him such as his LinkedIn, Twitter, and Facebook profiles (although they will pivot to private). After joking about making a Snapchat and TikTok, he expressed his hope that students will keep in contact with him as he was able to do with mentors after graduating from college. Freeman will be a free man from his tenure - but his respect and devotion to faculty and students is everlasting.

Freeman will continue living in Denver for his love of the mountains and the Colorado Symphony. In lieu of presidency, he plans to spend his retirement listening to his grand collection of vinyl records and learning how to play the upright bass.

While CCD’s symphony carries on with its music and begins its performance with a new conductor, the beautiful arrangement once performed with President Freeman will certainly continue to echo on throughout the campus.

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A Quarantine Walk in October

I swung over my shoulder, my navy-blue sweater and laced my black Nike Huaraches. It was time to go on a walk and along with me came my mom and my dog, a white Bichon Poodle named Bones. Once we stepped foot outside the door my mom aimed her lighter and lit a Marlboro cigarette, the faint smoke was being pulled towards my direction. We began on foot and the air had no wind, it felt good, no heat, it was light and cool. There were blue skies and faded clouds with the right amount of sun peeking out behind.

            To me, this October feels like it has gone by very quickly. And it has been by far the busiest for me. But, despite the overload of work and fast pace of time, it has always been one of my favorite times of the year. Luckily, much of the neighborhood has their houses and lawns decked out with Halloween decorations such as a blown up Frankenstein, spiderwebs, and pumpkins, I believe it always makes the block more colorful and in essence of the holiday spirit. I suppose some people are expecting trick or treaters because I saw bowls without candy outside and a couple signs that say, “Trick or Treat.” But another con of this October, and specifically this year is the pandemic, I am not sure how Halloween will play out this year for the trick or treaters.

            I notice today appears to be a popular day to be out for my area. There are many cars coming up and down the street going at somewhat fast pace, it seems people have places to be this morning. Although usually it is very opposite where I live, quiet and not much to notice. As we crossed the road to make a turn towards the park, there was a little boy riding a blue tricycle going around and around in circles and I thought to myself, how days once consisted of imagination, time, repetition, and playfulness. Kids are not thinking about the election, the pandemic, or school. So, I wonder what it is like to grow up during these times? But of course, there are different answers depending on the situation.

            We were getting closer to the park and I saw a helicopter and a group of geese flying above us. Nearby the park is an elementary school and once we got near, I saw a flyer hanging on the school's brick wall. I notice it shows their remodel plan and my mom and I wanted to take a closer look at it. As I take a peek at the school's vision I mentioned to my mom, “It looks more modern and futuristic, there are more windows and they are pretty wide, but there is hardly any color or much to play with on the playground.” She replied, “You would think with the people's tax money they would add more than windows and nice detail inside but also a playground that is vibrant and fun.” We began to move further from it and towards the trail, I was able to see the school in the process of reconstructing along the way and it already appears big. It brought me back to a time when my elementary school was remodeled and even as a kid I would think to myself it was starting to look different, more new, without a variety to imagine and play with.      

It felt good to be outside and accompanied by my mom, since coronavirus emerged my family and I have changed much of our social lifestyle and rarely are out unless it is necessary. My mom turned to me and said, “Times are rough for those whose life’s can be and have been affected by covid but walks like these allow us to be out and recollect ourselves.” And it is true, for some the weight of the pandemic is heavier, and something as simple as a walk allows there to be time without strict precautions or worry. Sometimes I see individuals during a walk with masks and others not but this time there was no other person in sight with a face covering other than us. When we would walk by others, even though we were wearing masks, people would still walk feet apart. But a couple times I had to distance Bones from other dogs, preventing them both from trying to walk towards each other.

Besides being cautious of health measures, the walk was refreshing, peaceful, and provided a pleasing sight to see. In more particular, the season did. Our shoes were crushing the leaves on the ground and I could hear a crunch along with every step, I have always enjoyed that sound. I have also always admired trees, even the ones that kill your grass, but the fall colors, and gloomy turn is a blessing to nature. As I was walking along the trail, my head was bent back looking up at the old and huge trees hovering over us. The trees are in their prime time of fall being full and layered with red, orange, and gold blending leaves. And for a split second there was no talking, no background noise, and just a moment to enjoy and admire the scenery. I got a quick whiff of a scent that smelled of dried leaves. On the concrete, was the shadow of the tree's trunk from the sun gleaming behind them.

            After the forty-five-minute walk we were close to home. The neighborhood was the same as it was when we left, busy. There were neighbors outside conversating, leaf blower sounds in the background, and dogs barking at the mailman. Yet, I felt relaxed and my body felt like I just had a workout, my dog was panting and after he drank some water he laid down, I think he felt the same. It was nice to get out and see what is new in the neighborhood, feel the fall and Halloween atmosphere, and simply get some fresh air.

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A Pentax Photographs a Pandemic

Over the course of two weeks in September 2020, I documented the coronavirus pandemic in Denver with my 35mm Pentax film camera. As these photographs were taken and the film eventually developed, COVID cases spiked nationally, a looming election day approached, and Americans felt more uneasiness. It seemed like a dream – an anomaly not to be ignored. The country seemed to be in a state of turmoil. To be shown these images a year ago would have been unbelievably eerie - now they are the norm.

Before 2020, the earth was already in dire need of attention from its inhabitants. With single-use plastic becoming more prevalent due to the demands of COVID-19, our planet not only calls for attention – it’s crying out for action. ‘COVID-waste’ is threatening our environment. Plastic gloves and face masks, presumably used only once, are left with Mother Nature to deal with on the ground and in our oceans. In an interview with The Paris Review, E.B. White once said, “One role of the writer today is to sound the alarm. The environment is disintegrating, the hour is late, and not much is being done.” That was stated in 1969. While the primary focus this year has been on eradicating the virus and protecting our people, I set out to sound the alarm for the side of an epidemic that no one seems to be talking about.

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A Golden Ticket to Colorado's Candyland

Golden aspen trees for miles. Makes you feel as if you escaped reality and have been taken to Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Fall is upon us and as the leaves turn beautiful vibrant colors like tasty candy. Aspen, Colorado is a destination you want to put on your bucket list to view Fall at its finest.

            With some of the main attractions of sightseeing for the little ski town, there is plenty of breathtaking views. Maroon Bells being one of my most favorite sightseeing destinations when there. Although the sun is out, make sure to bring: a warm jacket, sunglasses, your camera, sunblock, and a face mask.

 On our first stop is Smuggler Mountain trail. The views are to die for. In certain parts of the trail you will get blasted with sunlight so be prepared to whip out those handy dandy sunglasses so you may see all that mother nature has to offer.

            The air is a little nippy but not too bad. You can hear the salty crunchiness of some of the fallen leaves that have fallen from the trees. I like to look for pretty leaves that I can spray with hairspray and keep them in the back of my phone case. Another fun activity is a little game that I like to play every year is called leaf fight. I like to gather friends and we pick up piles of leaves and throw them at each other. Kind of like a snowball fight but with leaves. We play the game all the way back to our car making sure to be mindful of the other hikers around us looking to enjoy the cinematic views that the trail has to offer.

It just feels like a picture out of a movie or like I’m dreaming. The imfamous Maroon Bells is a tourist hotspot whenever you’re in town. With its everchanging breathtaking views, it isn’t hard to snap a million-dollar photo from this location.

The atmosphere was sweet with the rich maple scent of Autumn. The view was a candyland of yellow aspen leaves and patches of red with a snow-covered mountain reflected in the clear brown lake. It was so serene like a scene out of the movie ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’.

My Friend Trish said, “Reminds me of the days I use to live in Maine. The views from the town I’m from were just amazing. And this makes me feel like I have a little piece of home here!”

If you ever are in Aspen and see a ’77 brown Volkswagen Bus with Paddington the bear painted on it, that is My friend Trish Sheppard. She hosts Pop Up Read with Moxie, (the name of the VW bus). Riding through town in that bus enhanced the experience all together while going to fun destinations around town. Just listening to some classic Simon and Garfunkel, Elton John, and with a hint of John Denver really gave me nostalgic groovy Autumn vibes.

 Speaking of John Denver, this leads us into our next destination to The John Denver Sanctuary on our way through town. Now if you thought Maroon Bells was a beautiful breath-taking site, wait till you get a load of the colorful John Denver Sanctuary. Now I know that I have said the word breathtaking quite a few times throughout this piece, but when I say breathtaking, I mean BREATHTAKING!

If you’ve never seen a true fall turning of the leaves in years, this is the place to be. With the mixture of reds and yellows, oranges and greens. You’ll able to see something that most people only get to see in pictures on the internet or from living Vicariously through friends. Try sitting on rocks near the stream or lay on the ground with a friend or two and looked at the sky with the colorful trees surrounding.

You won’t even have the urge to blink for a solid five minutes because you didn’t want to miss one second of what I was staring at. Rating the experience on a scale of 1 to 10 for all three locations, I would have to give it a 10/10. Five-star rating and would highly recommend to fellow Colorado natives seeking adventure during a pandemic.

Also, to tourist looking for that fall foliage that they don’t get to see on an everyday basis in the fall season. And to think it only takes 3.5 hours It’s a great escape from reality to just enjoy a day in Nature.

With all that walking and sightseeing you might develop an appetite and I highly recommend visiting Aspen Perk Café. Just picture yourself enjoying a grilled cheese panini with this Fall foliage view as dessert.

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A Modern Day "Yes Man"

I got off the plane in Panama City with no reservation, no idea of what to do, and no idea where to go. All I knew was that in five weeks I had to somehow fly back home from San José, Costa Rica. 

Having traveled a lot with my family growing up, I was familiar with experiencing different cultures. Yet, those experiences were very touristic, secure, and safe. For my very first time, alone, here in Central America, standing in the rain on a dirty street, I was in a new environment without the comfort of even a working cell service, much less a hotel. I told myself I would say “yes” to every new situation that presented itself. I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone. I wanted a good story.

Within just the first couple of days of saying “yes”, I had made some friends from Australia and Italy and found myself on the San Blas islands sleeping in a hammock inside an elementary school. I was on the island of a native tribe called the Kuna. Unlike many tourist-laden “tribal experiences”, this was not normal. There was no song and dance and selling of trinkets. There was no guide to show us how they lived and take us on a tour of the village. The Kuna people just lived their day-to-day lives, sold us fish for dinner, and the chief rolled us marijuana joints and told us stories of his tribe. 

After another two weeks or so of “yeses”, I found myself on a volcano island in the middle of a lake in Nicaragua. Looking down, the infestation of hookworm in my feet had finally started healing after taking some parasite medication (this had started from a “yes” to exploring the jungle barefoot). Here, in Isla Ometepe, there aren’t really many cars at all. The only way to get around is typically by motorcycle. While at the rental hut, the new Brazilian and German friends I was with all stated that they knew how to ride motorcycles. The peer pressure turned on as they all looked to me to see if I knew how to ride as well.

 “…Yes,” I replied, full well knowing I had no idea how to ride. Ten minutes later, hiding in the bathroom, trying to watch “How to Ride a Motorcycle” videos on YouTube with the worst WiFi connection, my friends told me they were ready to ride up to a magnificent waterfall. Three crashes, a broken headlight, a twisted frame, and a 2nd-degree blistering football-sized burn on my inner thigh later, I was proudly on top of the island staring at one of the most beautiful waterfalls I’ve ever seen. 

A couple more weeks of “yeses” passed by and I found myself in El Salvador. Waking up every morning, swatting all the flies off my still unhealed burn, I found myself unable to hear properly out of my left ear for whatever reason. Soon I ended up saying yes to a Tinder date with a local El Salvadoran girl. This, quite possibly, was one of the most informative dates I’ve ever been on. While eating a bowl of seasoned raw clams (still quite alive), I learned so much about the El Salvadoran people and about her own wish to be a doctor to help treat the poor there. 

On my last week of “yeses”, I found myself in Costa Rica. I met with a friend who happened to be there also for a college anthropology project. He found me dirty, sunburned, still healing from my leg burn and my hookworm, and all-the-while hairless and covered in massive acne (I had said “yes” earlier to a full body waxing). Yet never once had a smile escaped my face. I had spent 5 weeks backpacking through four countries saying yes to every food, every drink, and every activity that was presented. I met other travelers from all around the world and even hitchhiked with local families driving through the jungles. 

I kissed, I laughed, I wandered, I talked, and I pointed when I couldn’t talk. I found myself sleeping in hammocks, floors, boats, and even had to share the last bed in a hostel with a Swiss boy because they thought we were a couple. Very little about this trip was comfortable, easy, or calm, yet it was exactly what I wanted: a story. 

To this day, I have made it my personal goal to travel to at least one new country every year with no plans, no reservations, and a motto to say “yes” to everything. It is with every ounce of me that I implore the people I meet to perhaps try the same. Of course, I want them to stay safe, but I also want them to make mistakes, get out of their comfort zones, and say yes to the things they normally would shy away from. It’s only through putting ourselves through discomfort that we learn to grow. And strangely enough, it’s often through those uncomfortable times that we find our best friends, opportunities, and memories. 

Far too often we tell ourselves, “One day I’ll travel. One day I’ll have that grand adventure.” But honestly, most people never will. It starts with one excuse after another: “I first have to finish college”, “Well now I need to get a job”, “I have to plan my wedding first”, “I just bought a house, so that’ll eat up my savings for a while”, “With the kids in the house, I’ll have to wait until they’re older before I can leave”, etc. Before you know it, your pushing retirement in your 60s or later and so far your “life adventure” has been to a couple of all-inclusive resorts in Cancun. I cannot urge people enough to make your adventures now…while you’re young. You won’t regret it.

One last detail…almost a month after coming back from that Central American trip and I was still having hearing problems in my ear. In the hospital where I work, we found a tiny little volcanic rock lodged up next to my eardrum from a volcano sledding trip I had done in Nicaragua. Holding that little rock in my hand, I thought back, and I smiled the biggest smile ever. 



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Andreas Hermawan: Reality of College Life

Having a part-time job and a part-time college schedule may sound easy to some people. “Part-time and part-time,” no big deal. Sometimes, however,  time and budget management can be two of many reasons why some students struggle to keep up with their college lives. 

For 22 years old, Andreas Hermawan, going to college and working at the same time is a little difficult. Andreas (Andre for preferred nickname), was born in Indonesia and came to the United States in 2004 with his family. He went to school in Colorado and graduated from Thomas Jefferson High School. Andre, then, took 3 years off from continuing his education to work and help his mother with their family’s financial status. 

Returning to college after the 3-years-gap made Andre realize that life is not just about working.

“This last summer, I made a last-minute decision, which was registering for college at CCD,” Andre said. He registered at the Community College of Denver in April and got his acceptance email on June 10th. With help from the school officials, Andre was able to register for his classes, Getting him one step closer to being in the classroom. He then decided to meet with someone at the financial aid office to discuss his status. 

  “I registered for a part-time schedule and went to the Financial Aid Office to see how much my tuition would be,” he said. His tuition for this semester came up to  $2,400 and that already included the amount covered by the COF Stipend (Colorado Opportunity Fund). Andre later shared that he is a DACA student, which made him ineligible to receive FAFSA. He also explained that he didn’t apply for scholarships this semester but is planning to do so in the future. 

The only problem that he has right now is filling out taxes form for his mother and him. “My mom wasn’t working at that time. She was just a housewife,” Andre explained. Without applying for any scholarships, he took the option of CCD’s tuition payment plan, where he can pay his tuition on a monthly basis. From August to December, each month approximately costs $480. 

However, college tuition is not the only expense Andre needs to be worried about. He also has insurance and car bills to pay every month.

Currently, Andre works at a daycare with a $12.50 hourly pay. He works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and gets his paycheck every other Friday. “I get paid $400 bi-weekly for most of the paycheck I received, so that means I will have about $800 every month,” he said.  But with the bills he needs to pay every month, he is left with only about $100 or less, which can only last him a few weeks because he still needs to pay for gas to go to work every other day. 

“I set my budget to $25 a week,” Andre explained. “I wait for the gas until it goes to ‘E’ and fill $15-$20 every week.” When asked about the way he manages to survive with such a low amount of money, Andre explained that he makes his meals from home instead of eating out when he goes to work and school. As for the weekends, he only hangs out with friends when there is a special occasion or just to work on homework together. 

Knowing that there are many college students who experience what he experiences, Andre gladly shared some tips on how to make it through college. 

To start, he emphasized that applying for scholarships is the most important thing to do. “Or do FAFSA if the students are eligible,” he added. Second, he recommends a part-time school schedule until you have enough money to afford paying for a full-time schedule. He also suggests deferring a semester or two, “but I won’t really suggest this one to the people who are trying to get their degrees on time,” Andre added. 

He also shared some advice for people who are not yet experiencing what he is experiencing. He recommends to be cautious about the money spent; differentiating what is actually needed from what is only wanted. 
“Plan your budget every month and calculate with the paycheck you get every two weeks or the allowances,” Andre explains. This will help keep track of spending, either every two weeks or every month. 

As hard as it can get to manage life as a college student, Andre advises that taking things one step at a time without letting stress affect your everyday life or come in the way is key to being happy. 

“My girlfriend, Matilda, told me once and I remember this every day; ‘you are here for a good time, not a long time,’” Andre said. “Don’t stress because everything will come together in the end,” he said to close out the interview. 




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Student then, Student now | Always a Student

As I find myself grinding through the fall semester I ponder where I’m at in my life, how far I’ve come thus far and what my future holds for me. I suppose these are questions typical college students would ask themselves while on their path to earning a degree. Maybe they aren’t, I just suppose they are. 

I’m not what one would consider a “typical” student though.  The label I believe for students like me is, “non-traditional”. I’m 54 years old and I guess that distinguishes me as such. I don’t mind the label at all, in fact, I’ve worn it before. And while I ponder these questions I stop myself and ask a better question instead, “how are the classes I’m taking this semester enriching my current life?”, and in that moment I realize just how much my perspective about college has changed since the last time I attended - yes, as a non-traditional student back then as well. I say “changed” but perhaps a better word to describe would be “evolved” - an evolved perspective because now I bring to class with my life experiences and lessons learned outside of an educational institution.  

Thirty seven years post high school, romping through life, meeting countless challenges along the way; while starting companies, working in corporate America in strategic roles, creating and selling art, raising a child as a single parent and moving to several states has provided me with a Swiss Army knife filled with proven processes, life hack skills, fortitude and the knowledge one only gains by rolling up their sleeves and figuring sh*t out. I’m a great example of  “learn by doing”. 

To say I did this all without any formal education would be a lie, however, the truth is, I never finished earning my college degree. I can almost hear the *gasps* as I type these words. I know they’re out there because I’ve shared this with some of my closest friends and each time I did, I received the exact same response…first the hand-covered-mouth *GASP*, then the question - ”how did you ever get a job?”  “Sheeeeesh, I really don’t know” I would say, with a slight giggle, but I’m super excited to finally finish my degree now. And so I am again studying for midterm exams.

With all my life experience do I value a college education? Absolutely! Will I finish my degree? Absolutely! However my education today means something entirely different than it did when I first returned to school many... okay, many, many, many years ago. Back then it was just about racking up the credit hours and maintaining a 4.0. Now it’s about adding to what I’ve already learned with the deliberate intention of enriching my life.

I’m a different student now. Not only do I bring something to the table for myself, I’m able to give to others as well. Most of my classmates are barely out of high school and have yet to venture into their first “real” job, meaning one that requires a professional resume. I admire their naivety, wonderment, and ability to instantly become inspired. It renews me. I find myself joyfully sharing my grown-up knowledge and information about technology and processes I’ve learned from being in business. And I’m always more than happy to review someone's project idea and provide feedback because I genuinely want to see them succeed.

Thirty-seven years ago I would have been too wrapped up in my own projects and grades to worry about others.  I didn’t understand the value of giving then, as I do now. 

I guess you can say that my lessons learned in life are now enriching my lessons learned in class and hopefully those around me as well. I find this to be an interesting twist.  I know the overall benefits of returning to school at my age - they are numerous. Learning today keeps me relevant. And if that’s all I got out of it then it would be well worth it. 

I look back on the classes I took so long ago and realize how out-of-date that knowledge is today (I’m just thankful those classes still count towards my degree). It also allows me to interact with young students who are the faces of our future.  I’m learning more about what motivates them, what they are most passionate about and the technologies and media they utilize the most. As a seasoned marketing professional this holds a ton of value for me in the work I’m doing today for my clients.


Yes, I’m quite a different student now. I read the syllabus - mean the whole thing - and my professors don’t need to remind me when assignments are due. I don’t miss deadlines and I always ask questions when I know the answers will help me write a better paper or be a better student. I’ve also learned that staying up until 2 am to cram for a test doesn't serve me well at all, and it’s better to get a full night's rest instead. And when I’m tempted to stress about a grade I gently remind myself that school is not my life, it is an enrichment to my life.

While it can be challenging at times, I like being a student just as much as I like being a professional. I haven’t taken a conventional journey with my education however, I have continuously kept myself in a learning space. A degree is an accomplishment but also a static marker in our lives. It’s not a stopping point, it’s a stepping stone to continue learning, always learning more and staying relevant. There is no question in my mind as to the value a college education adds to my life, however, I cannot discard or deny the value of the education I’ve earned through living my life either.

I’m 54, and I don’t know the exact date in which I will earn my degree (although I know it’s close) but I do know this, I will always be a student, constantly learning and becoming better along the way at whatever I want. Beyond a degree, whether it be in life or in a classroom. I will always be a student.

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An African Birthday

I didn’t want to turn 30. I didn’t want to be old, and I did not feel like an adult. Yet, this marked the end of my youth. Worst of all, I haven’t made it yet. So I decided to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain on the African continent and the tallest free-standing mountain in the world. Every year about 1000 people are evacuated from the mountain, and approximately 10 to 30 people die. I was going to turn 30 on the roof of Africa or die on my way up, in my twenties. I meant it.
In Tanzania, at the foot of the majestic cone towering above the vast African savanna, I met my Tanzanian guide, Zawadi. The two of us would mostly be alone for the next 8 days. The moment he heard that I was from South Africa his eyes popped and he lowered his voice: “Do you know any Boers?” he asked. I sighed. “Yes...” I paused. “I am a Boer.” I didn’t elaborate because I was tired of defending myself against assumptions based on my heritage. He looked at me strangely, and up we went. 

Zawadi was 35, married with four kids, and was doing a great job at being an adult. He provided for his family by being a mountain guide and he spent his days engulfed by the beauty around us. To me, he had it all and I felt a jab of envy. 

We chatted all day and arrived at the campsite by dusk. There were people from all over the world, Netherlands, Italy, America, and Scotland. I don’t know why I had the expectation that I would be alone. I was a bit bummed about that.

The toilet was a hole in the ground with a U-shaped wooden structure around it. The floor was wooden slats nesting together from the entrance to the hole. It smelled horrific and for some mysterious reason, the floor was always wet. 

At high altitude, you pee a lot. In the middle of the extremely cold winter’s night, my brain refused to let my body out of the warm snuggly sleeping bag. Eventually, through the interrupted sleep, my bladder declared victory and I tackled the cold. Struggling to find the flashlight, gloves, shoes, dealing with a stubborn tent zipper, swearing at the anomalies that tripped me, freezing, disorientated, why are the slats wet, where is my tent again? Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Dawn. 

The porters slept with four to five people in one tent. One morning, I was up early to watch the day arrive. One of the porters crawled out of his tent with a big basin full of liquid. He slumbered over to the toilet and aimed—from outside!—trying to follow the path of the U-shape toilet, to get their nightly bodily fluids around the corners and into the hole. The basin is their make-shift chamber pot. They were not brazing the elements five times a night. Now, I knew why the floor was wet. From that point on, I went in the bush not caring who saw my naked butt.

Five days later, we arrived at base camp and started to prepare for the summit. By this point, breathing has become a bit of an achievement. Many people have turned around and one of the seasoned porters had to be carried down on a stretcher. Altitude sickness does not ask for a resume. I was worried, but giving up was not an option. 

At 11:00 p.m. Zawadi woke me to start the summit. I was cold and tired and not impressed. The aim was to get to the summit for sunrise. It was the most numbing experience I have ever had. The landscape was alien, nothing but darkness, gravel, and random piles of ice and snow. Dark boulders and rocks were aimlessly scattered and showing indifference to my existence. The 8-hour climb was at a varying 35-degree angle in gravel. Google says on winter nights it can be -20 ºF. I wouldn’t know, but the cold came, parked in my bones and put the clamps on my joints. 

At one point there was this very soft-looking flat rock. I went to have a laydown and Zawadi nearly had heart failure. “You have to keep moving,” he said. “No,” I replied. He tried again but I closed my eyes. “I just want to rest for a little bit,” I mumbled. This was a very boring conversation. “You have to get up!” he raised his voice panickedly. “Just 10 minutes please,” I begged while telepathically trying to hit his snooze button. Then softly, in a matter of fact way, his voice reached my brain. “You will die if you don’t get up.” I suddenly thought of all the idiots in the movies that didn’t listen to their friends and died of exposure and hypothermia just because they wanted to sleep for a bit. I don’t like being an idiot. I got up and trudged on. 

After seven hours of slogging gavel, we reached Stella Point at the dawn of my thirties. The rising sun tinted the African plains stretching below the clouds. The continent felt at peace. Then, my water froze as if the thermal insulation wasn’t even there. Zawadi saw my alarm and offered that we could go down. “You will get a certificate that you summited Stella Point,” he said. “Nope,” I stated. “Uhuru Peak is the highest point.” 

We set off, calve deep in snow on the ledge of Africa. I could see the Netherlanders in the distance, but no one else. They either turned around or peaked at Stella Point.

Reaching Uhuru Peak, 19,341 feet above sea level, Zawadi sat me down on the snow and drew a big heart around me with his heel. He sang Happy Birthday in Swahili while he danced around the universal symbol of love and clapped his hands to the rhythm. I cried. I cried because my new friend gave me a very special birthday. I cried because I was exhausted. I cried because I missed the people I loved. I cried because the surroundings ice glaciers were overwhelmingly beautiful. I cried for the porters and guides who have to go through this ordeal bi-weekly to make a living. I cried for myself, my country and my continent. Zawadi knew the ice cap was melting. He grew up in the valley and has done this for many years. He is afraid that when the ice cap is not there anymore the money that feeds his family will disappear with it. He didn’t know why it was happening. Our arguments back home were his reality.

Decent was torture. Same gravel, same 35-degree slope but it was fast and it was hard. Every single step was like somebody took a bat to my toes. Took a bat to my knees. Took a bat to my back. I lost six toenails. Probably half-way down my body collapsed. Memory has its own truth. I remember collapsing into the gravel and it felt like half of my body was engulfed in it. I sat there in complete astonishment: So this is what it feels like to hit 100%. 

I couldn’t dig deep, I couldn’t get my mind right, there was absolutely nothing I could do to make my legs move. “Must I get a stretcher?” Zawadi asked me. “No just give me a minute,” I half-whispered. “I will get a stretcher,” Zawadi now firmly stated. “No! Just give me a minute.”  I looked around. There was only stupid rocks and gravel in any case. As if reading my mind he said: “There are stretchers all over. We carry lots of people back into base camp.” I glared at him: “I will not be carried into base camp in a stretcher.” Zawadi got frustrated. “I will fetch someone to help me. You do not have to be ashamed, we carry men on stretchers into base camp too.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “I am a Boer, remember. You do not carry a Boer on a stretcher into any camp.”
He gave me my minute. Or what felt like a minute. Somewhere my legs connected to my brain again. As we continued the torture, I asked myself; how much money must someone give to me to turn around and do this again? I tried to come up with an honest answer. Every amount I thought of wasn’t enough. So I asked Zawadi. He through on it for a while, also trying to give an honest answer. “$100,” he said. 

Back at base camp, as I collapsed in my tent, Zawadi stuck his head in wanting to know what I was doing. I just stared at him blankly. What did he mean what was I doing? “We need to leave now. We clear base camp for next group. We walk five hours to next camp,” he explained. “There is no way on God’s green earth that I am getting up,” I said to him very determinedly as I laid my head down. His brain raced, then he sighed. “OK, you can sleep for two hours.” 

True to his word, after two hours he woke me up. We packed up, but we did not walk to an overnight tourist camp, that was now too far away. This “camp” was just a clearing. It was only me, Zawadi, and five Tanzanian porters who didn’t speak a word of English. If you can speak English, you become a guide. If you can’t, then you carry heavy loads up and down the mountain. From inside my tent, I could hear them talking around the fire while they were drinking. More men that I didn’t know joined and drank and got louder as the night went on. I was petrified. I tried to be invisible and didn’t leave my tent. The next morning it was my turn to secretly discard the contents of my make-shift chamber pot.

The next day was bright and the greenery increased with every foot we descended. Now a party of seven, I asked if there was a place nearby to get something to drink. Zawadi changed our direction and after a while, this unsystematic structure built from branches and leaves appeared underneath a tree. Inside it was bigger than expected, and it smelled like dark rich soil, hops, and freshly cut wood. I could feel the eyes of the local people on me. This was not a tourist trap. I got us all a round of beer and we sat down to cheer our weary bodies up. 

I took a sip and looked at the people around me. Here I was, a female Afrikaner Boer, drinking with six Tanzanian men, in the middle of Africa. We were swapping stories and laughing. I was 30.0027 years old. Not only was I still alive, I was living. Zawadi went from being my guide and my lifeline to being my friend. He no longer saw me as an oppressor from the south, but as an ordinary, maybe too stubborn fellow human. There were no more preconceived prejudices on either side. We were just people, being together. 

At the start of this journey, it felt like my life was over. At the end of it, there was the promise of countless new beginnings. I learned that if I’m still able to move a body part, then I am not done yet. I now know that I will make it, and the definition of what that is is my decision, not society’s.

Zawadi in Swahili means “gift”.

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ESCAPING A DEATH SENTENCE.

On the morning of August 29, in an English Composition class at the Community College of Denver, students were tasked with answering a simple question. 

“What is the most important thing you’ve read.”   

Kevin Bates, a 38-year-old student’s answer was one that stood out. “The beginning of everything” by Andrea Buchanan was his answer. The class would soon understand why his enjoyment was a mixture of empathy and interest. 

On September 10th, 2000, Kevin was in a car accident. He was called lucky for coming out of it with a few broken bones. That was supposed to be the end of it. However, at the end of October 2017, Kevin started to have strong headaches. 

“When I say headaches, that doesn't really explain exactly how it felt,” Kevin said. “It almost felt like somebody opened up my head and put a bunch of fireworks in and closed it back up. That’s what it felt like.” 

At first, they would come and go. He convinced himself that it was nothing. “I thought it was a hangover and I told myself I was getting too old to be drinking,” Kevin said while laughing. When the pain persisted, he thought he was just tired from working all the time and just needed to rest. But, it got to a point where the headaches would get so bad that only laying down could make him feel better. 

It was January 2018, and Kevin was out of work, still experiencing severe migraines that required him to lay down to ease the pain. At this point, he knew something had to be wrong. After talking to his mother, he finally decided to go to a doctor. 

After being sent to a neurologist for some scans, Kevin was sent home because everything looked normal. But everything did not feel normal. 

Walking, standing, and other small tasks became difficult, his balance suffered. Kevin started stacking ER visits, one after another, resulting in the hospital thinking he was just another “junkie looking for pills to get high.” 

On a cold January night, after spending a couple of hours in the waiting room of an ER, Kevin started to lose his patience. When he approached the information desk, he was confronted by a less than helpful receptionist. He asked how much longer before a doctor could see him, her response was “You are just here for a headache, we have people with real problems. We’ll get to you when it’s your turn.” With his headache getting worse, Kevin asked for a bed where he could wait for a doctor. His request was denied, so he decided to lay on the floor of the waiting room. When he was told that he could not do that either, the situation escalated, security was called and escorted him out of the building. That was his last ER visit. 

A couple of weeks after that, Kevin met with a friend who noticed how bad he was doing. His friend was so concerned that he sent a message to Kevin’s mother, Karen. In the message, he explained that after seeing Kevin he thinks something is seriously wrong. “He told my mom: I don’t know if you know what’s going on with Kevin, but I am pretty sure he’s dying,” he said. 

After receiving the troubling message, Karen, who lived in Kansas, decided to fly to Denver with her sister to see her son. “I remember opening the door and seeing them both starting to cry when they saw me,” Kevin said. “At this point, I hadn't been able to eat, do dishes, or clean. If something fell over, that’s where it would stay. The pressure of bending down made it worse.” 

After seeing her son’s condition, Karen decided to take him with her back to Kansas City. 

Once in Kansas, Kevin was taken to the ER where more tests were ran. For one of the tests, he was asked to name as many animals as he could in 30 seconds, he came up with 2 names. He was then subjected to a hand tapping coordination test. The point was to sit with both hands on his lap and alternatively tap the hand still on his lap with the other hand. Kevin failed.  

After more exams, it was concluded that Kevin was suffering from a cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) leak. Another discovery was that he suffered from frontotemporal dementia, which was causing him to be forgetful most of the time. “At first, it was just keys, then it was more important things,” Kevin said. 

Kevin was told that he had the brain capacity of a 99-year-old person. Once again, he was called lucky. This time, for not having a stroke before being diagnosed. The doctors told Karen that had she not brought her son in that day, he probably would have been rushed in for a stroke in the next 36 hours. 

Being diagnosed was a relief for Kevin and his family. That meant effective treatment. Or at least, that’s what they thought. 

The doctors decided the best way to treat him would be epidural blood patches on his spinal cord. After the first blood patch, Kevin felt relieved. However, that only lasted about a day before the headaches were back. 

Back in the hospital, Kevin received a second blood patch, then a third, and a fourth. After getting the fifth blood patch, Kevin felt better for a week, which was a significant improvement  

Thinking everything was better, he decided to come back to Denver. 

On the day of his flight back, he started to feel the headaches come back. Met with disappointment, frustration, and mostly denial, Kevin decided to board his plane and just live with the pain. 

Back in Denver, Kevin’s pain was becoming unbearable. As he made his way to baggage claim, his headache started to get worse. He could no longer walk or stand. In the middle of a crowded terminal, Kevin laid on the floor, until a concerned bystander called an ambulance. 

Even then, he refused to admit his condition to the paramedics. He made them believe he was just having a bad migraine that would go away. He was still taken to the hospital. “I didn’t know what was happening,” Kevin said. “But I wanted to believe I was getting better because I had done all this treatment. I told myself it was just side effects.” 

When he was still experiencing headaches two days later, Kevin realized it was not a side effect. After talking to his mother, they were able to contact his doctor here in Denver, to ask for another blood patch injection. However, Kevin was told that it would have to be the last. The main concern was that making more than six injections to his spine could create some damage to his spinal cord. 

Just like the first five injections, the sixth one did not have permanent effects. The headaches returned. 

At this point, Kevin’s Dementia was getting worst. He went back to Kansas to be surrounded by family. For the most part, he did not remember anything happening. “Lucky for me, the dementia allowed me to not worry about that,”

Kevin said. “I couldn’t remember long enough that they said there was nothing more they could do to fix me.” However, his family will never forget, the good and the bad days. 

Although the hospital sent her son home to die, Karen did not give up. She spent most of her time researching CSF leak and ways to beat it. 

About three months into her research, she found a video about a doctor named Wouter Ingmar Schievink, a neurological surgeon known for his expertise in brain and spinal cord vascular disorders. 

In June 2018, Karen contacted Dr. Wouter’s office and sent them Kevin’s medical records upon his assistant’s request. It was a big relief that she answered her phone a day later, to find that it was Dr. Wouter calling. He told her he knew why the blood patches have not been working, and knew how to repair the damage to her son’s brain. All they had to do was travel to Beverly Hills, California. 

Since his headaches required him to stay horizontal, Kevin would have a hard time sitting for the duration of a flight. Instead, they opted for the train, where he could get some room to lay down during the trip. 

Once in California, they were able to get an appointment for Friday, June 29, 2018. Dr. Wouter believed that the leak in Kevin’s brain had been active for so long that his body developed a way to get rid of the misplaced fluid, his brain was no longer floating. Instead, it was resting on the back of his head, creating the massive headaches. Before the appointment, Kevin and Karen were told that there were only two options: the damage could be on the right side or the left side of his body. To find out, they had to perform a CT scan. 

After getting the first side of his body scanned on Friday, it was with disappointment that Kevin and his mother were sent home.The scan yielded no results, they would have to go back on Monday to get his other side scanned. 

They both knew that this was the last chance for Kevin to get the right treatment. They spent their weekend hopeful but scared. 

“I remember having lunch with my mom and my sister on that Saturday,” Kevin said. “They were having a good time. But I was just watching not saying anything. My mom saw and asked if I was alright. Out of nowhere, l asked am I going to get better.” 

At that time, his pain was so unbearable that even the Dementia did not get Kevin’s mind off what was happening. 

On Monday, July 2nd, Dr. Wouter was able to find the origin of the leak and Kevin was rushed to surgery. He and his mother were incredibly relieved. Although the expected recovery time from his surgery was 36 hours, he started to get certain functions back within 12 hours. 

“Had they not found it, I don't know how much longer I could have held on without looking for other types of exit.” Kevin later admitted. 

During the first two days after surgery, Kevin’s brain was working very hard to get back to where it needed to be. The extra activity caused more headaches and lack of sleep. Five days later, he was doing a lot better and was able to get out of the hospital. 

During his recovery, Kevin thought about his life a lot and one question that kept coming back to him. Had he not made it, what legacy would he have left? This made him rethink several decisions he made in his life. One of them is not going to college. 

Less than a month after his surgery, he decided to enroll in the Community College of Denver. A decision that left his mother shocked, yet, pleased. 

On August 21st, 2018 Kevin sat in a classroom for the first time since graduating from high school in 1999. “I hadn’t been in a school setting for 20 years, I was nervous, but it blew me away how much fun it was,” he said. 

Kevin is currently enrolled in his 3rd semester at CCD, finishing up a degree in business. Although his goal is to work in the sports field, Kevin would also like to raise awareness about what he endured. “The beginning of everything” by Andrea Buchanan helped him realize that knowing other people survived can make a big difference. “It was hard to read but it was almost like I could put my name in there,” He said. 

Kevin is currently toying with the idea of writing his story someday. His goal is that someone in need of support reads it and knows not to give up because it does get better.