Carol Schlagheck, Ph.D.
Journalism Professor
Eastern Michigan University
Department of English Language & Literature

As a bright young woman in the mid-1970s, my decision to go to college seemed an obvious one.  My teachers and my friends often asked me where I was going to college, not if.  My high school newspaper advisor recommended her alma mater, Michigan State, as a good school for aspiring journalists.  I applied with her help and was awarded a partial scholarship.  With my family’s low income and five siblings, I could have gotten financial aid for the rest.

At home, however, the attitude was different. My parents had not gone to college.  In our suburban Toledo working-class life, men went to work and women stayed home with their children.  My mother’s goal for me involved marriage soon after high school and babies soon after that. I had a second cousin who had gone to nursing school, but no other relative on either side of my family had gone to college. 

My dad thought it ridiculous that I would consider going to MSU.  “If you HAVE to go to college, you can go to TU,” he said, referring to the University of Toledo by its 1950s nickname.  He said, “have to,” as if I had proposed something frivolous, but at least he didn’t tell me not to go.  A couple of years later, he convinced my brother that “real men” didn’t go to college.  My brother, a whiz at math and science, went into a construction trade, while only one of my four sisters ever went to college.

I never considered asking my parents to help me pay for college and they certainly never offered. In the end, I kept my job at the local weekly newspaper and I began attending classes part time at the University of Toledo and Monroe County Community College.  Over the next six years, I took all night classes while working 60-plus hours a week at area newspapers. 

Many times, I wanted to quit school, quit work, or both. I took at least one class every semester – including spring and summer – because I was so afraid that if I stopped for a breath, I never would go back. 

I never went to a campus party and I made few friends during my undergraduate years. I spent my weekends studying and working.  The pull from home always was strong, especially after my parents divorced and my mother needed my help, financially and emotionally.

I persevered and I graduated.  Then I worked at a newspaper for another 10 years before going to MSU for a master’s degree so I could teach journalism.  By then I was married with a young son, but set my sights on a doctorate. I commuted 60 miles to Bowling Green (OH) State University for five years and began working for Eastern Michigan University.

Many times, I have wished I could go back and give that young, smart girl a hug.  I’ve wished I could go back tell little Carol Ann that she could do it – that she was going to go all the way to a PhD and love her job teaching others to write, and she ALSO could have a happy marriage and three wonderful children.  I can’t go back and tell her that.  But I can do that for my students. I can tell you that you can do it.  What matters is not where you come from; it’s where you’re going.