by Tom Pantera
Columnist

Because of issues with timing, I had to put off my graduation from graduate school. I was going to graduate in December, but now I’ll be graduating in May.

It was no big deal, since I was going to stay here in Columbia anyway while I looked for a job. Right now, I have three tasks: finish the thesis – which is probably about 85 percent done – look for a job and teach one class, a writing lab I’ve taught since my second semester here.

So, I’m pretty busy yet. But I’ve had some time to reflect on what the past two years have meant to me and done to me. I’m not fond of the term “journey,” which always sounds a bit new-agey to my cynical ears, but that is what this has been. It’s been not just a journey, but a particularly happy one.

And I’ve learned a lot of different things.

In the larger picture, what I’ve learned about journalism is the least important part, although it’s still hugely important for both professional and personal reasons. Missouri has the world’s oldest journalism school and it’s widely considered the best (check the rankings; it’s not just pride). A big part of that is “the Missouri method,” the concentration here on teaching practical skills through practical application. The journalism school here runs both a daily newspaper and a television news operation (the only network-affiliated college station in the country) and they work the students like galley slaves.

But if the kids have to row hard, they do it under the direction of some of galley slavedom’s best officers. The faculty here is second to none; not only is there at least one Pulitzer Prize winner on the faculty, but everybody else has distinguished themselves in the profession. As a student, I don’t get involved in faculty politics, but I get the distinct sense that there isn’t that much of it here. These people are not just pros, but highly accomplished pros, and extremely likeable to boot (that Pulitzer Prize winner, Jacqui Banaszynski, is not only incredibly accomplished and a great teacher, but a really cool person to boot). And they respect their students, which makes a huge difference.

But of course, what I’ve learned on a personal level has been much more important.

I have learned that, contrary to F. Scott Fitzgerald, there are second acts in American lives. Luck played a large role in my being able to come here. Many middle-aged guys would not have my options. But I was single, my kids were on their own and while I had a job I loved, it didn’t pay very much. I could walk away from my old life and start a new one. Some people told me I was brave to do that, but really, it took very little courage.

I didn’t just discover that I could have a second chance. I discovered it could be fun. Now, on one level, graduate school can’t really be defined as fun. The workload can be titanic at times. But at a good school like this one, the sheer exposure to new, deeply thought-out ideas can be fun if you have a yen for that kind of thing. After spending long enough as a reporter that there weren’t many daily surprises, it was an amazing experience to have my mind once again grapple with unfamiliar ideas.

Another thing I learned is that being an older student is much more fun than being a younger one. My classmates are all about half my age. I loved every last one of them to death and made some very good friends. But they are constantly stressed, just because when you’re in your early to mid-20s, it’s pretty hard to take the long view. I saw my share of stress, but since I had 30 years of assuring myself that things would get done – and they nearly always did – I was somewhat calmer than many of my classmates.

And it was nice to know that people could respect me for my age. I had a bit of a fear when I came here of turning into the know-it-all older student; I told my classmates that if I ever acted that way, whomever could get to me and kill me first would get what was left of my financial aid. But I think I avoided that and even when I would talk about what things were like back in the day, my classmates would be interested. I recall one seminar in which we were discussing the Internet; I looked around the room and realized that I was the only student who remembered those prehistoric days when there was no virtual world. When I talked about that kind of thing, my classmates actually listened. They made me realize I had a contribution to make to such discussions. (I still can’t find a reason to explain to people how a Linotype works, but maybe someday I’ll teach a history of journalism class where such particularly useless knowledge can be used.)

Clichés are clichés because they’re true, and one of the truest is that you’re never too old to learn. I always knew that in my head, but now I know it in my heart. I’ve done it. I’m not an old man, but I’m not young either; in middle age, one’s ideas can begin to calcify. But because I’m at this amazing school, and because I went into it with an attitude of openness, I’ve been able to learn an amazing amount of things. And I’ve been reminded that the life of the mind can be an amazing thing.

So if you think you’re too old to do what I did, believe me, you’re not. And if it sometimes takes courage to move on to that second act, I can assure you that whatever the cost, the benefits are more.

And at my age, that’s a nice thing to learn.