Putting Fear in Perspective
Tanya Crabb
University Outreach Services
I grew up in Brooklyn, New York, but first and foremost I consider myself a Jamaican. My family immigrated to the US when I was four years old. My mother was one of thirteen children, and she gave birth to four of her own—three girls and one boy. I was the second born. My mother never went to college but she was a strong proponent of education. She often talked about her own desire for higher education. Unfortunately her dream was derailed when she became pregnant at age seventeen. She still wanted to attend, but four children later the odds of returning to school diminished.
My grades were average at best and I knew nothing about financial aid. All I knew was smart people with money went to college and I was neither.
Although my mother wanted us to go to college, the reality was she was a single woman with four kids and a limited income. Financially, we were barely making it. Then my older sister got pregnant in her senior year in high school. That added another mouth to feed. As the next in line, I knew I’d be expected to go to college. However, college wasn’t in my plans. I dreaded the thought of another four years in school. I didn’t want to go because I was scared. I didn’t know a thing about college. I had never been on a college campus. I worried that I wasn’t smart enough to get in. Or that I’d make it in by the skin of my teeth only to flunk out. “Besides,” I reasoned, “even if I survived the first year, how would I pay for college?” My grades were average at best and I knew nothing about financial aid. All I knew was smart people with money went to college and I was neither. Rather than go to college, I decided to enlist in the Marine Corps.
I know it must seem odd to some that I found the Marines less frightening than college. To me it made perfect sense. It meant one less person for my mother to support. No job interview was needed, just a desire to serve. The only way they’d reject me is if I was medically or psychologically unfit. Plus, as my recruiter pointed out, when I got out I could pay for college with the GI Bill. While it wasn’t what my mother planned, she was somewhat relieved. Enlisting meant I wouldn’t be running the streets. I’d have food, shelter and the possibility of a better life. Neither one of us counted on my unit being called to action during Desert Storm.
Four years after enlisting, I decided to leave the service and go to college. There is nothing like sitting in a fighting hole during a scud alert to put your fears in perspective. Admittedly, the thought of returning to college filled me with insecurities. I had been out of school for four years. Would I even remember any of the stuff I learned in high school? Would I feel out of place among the younger students? What if I didn’t get accepted to any of the colleges I applied to? All the old fears resurfaced. This time though, I took a deep breath and filled out the application anyway.
In 1999, I graduated from City College, City University of New York. In fact, I graduated with honors, magna cum laude. It turns out my biggest obstacle to college was me. I would be lying if I said college was a breeze. It wasn’t. It took hard work. It required an investment of time and energy. There were moments when doubt and fear reared its head, but I pushed through it. I am reminded of something a friend of mine once told me. “Do you know what the definition of fear is?” he asked. When I shook my head no, he said, “FEAR, false evidence appearing real.” Since then I’ve taken the advice of Ulysses S. Grant. I’ve chosen not to take counsel in my fears. In fact, now I’m considering graduate school.
top of page | read another story