Candace Running is in the public administration master’s program at the H. Wayne Huizenga School of Business and Entrepreneurship. At the age of 54, Running has overcome many obstacles, and has persevered as a non-traditional student to continue her education. She hopes that her story will inspire readers to realize it is never too late to achieve a goal.
World War II delayed my education. No, I was not even born yet, but my parents were.
The Japanese invaded my mother’s homeland of Guam on Dec. 8, 1941, only hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. She was just 13 years old. She lost relatives in the assault, in which she, her parents, six siblings and the rest of the islanders were initially confined to dirt pits. Her innocence and the world as she knew it changed drastically. Guam remained under Japanese occupation until its liberation on July 21, 1944, and she never continued her formal education.
My father’s formal education was also cut short, albeit voluntarily. He was raised by his maternal grandparents on a farm in Kansas until the age of 12. Like many other young men of his day, he found his way by enlisting in the Navy during the war. His mother signed the papers and, at the age of 17, months short of a high school diploma, he set off for the Coral Sea and, eventually, the South Pacific, where he met and married my mother.
For my dad, supporting a family of seven, paying bills and putting food on the table took precedence over any formal schooling. For us five kids, good grades were demanded throughout school, but an education above 12th grade was never wholly encouraged.
“Become a radiologist,” said my father after seeing his hospital bill for the first time. “Become a school teacher,” said my mother another year, without adding any reason for her announcement.
That was the extent of my parents’ inquiries into my future. Exploration of careers and life ambitions was never encouraged. I believe it was because they had buried their own dreams long ago and did not have the ability to encourage anyone else’s. College is expensive and school loans were never a consideration. I am sure home mortgages and car loans were the only long-term debt my father thought reasonable. My older sister married and my two older brothers joined the military, all soon after they graduated high school. As a twig is bent, so it grows.
I have not had to overcome a language barrier, a broken home, political persecution or sexual abuse. My slight lisp has not held me back from speaking out; in fact, public speaking was one of my favorite courses in college. Even so, the lone childhood experience I struggled to defeat would take years to overcome and so, at the age of 18, I left home and began my journey of self-discovery. It’s be a journey of trial and error, good and terrible decisions, but it has brought me to a place where I am now stronger and more compassionate, forgiving and confident.
It has been a long time coming, but despite my parent’s unwitting suggestions otherwise, I now believe one is not a failure because they tried and failed, but that one can only fail if they do not try. The road to this revelation was not quick. For years, I had been good at failing to try. It was safe.
Unfortunately, this failure to try resulted from my siblings and me receiving a swift back hand from my father, while we sat at the dinner table doing math homework long after the dishes had been cleared. Some days he came home short on patience and if we didn’t get the math problem correct after his explanation, he — well, it wasn’t encouraging. I can recall only personally experiencing this a few times as a child, but I can vividly see my two older brothers suffering this enough times for it to stay imbedded in memory. During these episodes, you could hear a pin drop. I believe it was during this time that I decided not to attempt much of anything.
To date, I can remember missing out on a trip to the circus with a friend because when I asked if I could attend, my father said he’d need to quiz me on my times tables — right there, on the spot, in front of my friend. I panicked, and to my friend’s dismay, declined and the circus left town.
I thought, “If I didn’t attempt a math problem, I couldn’t get it wrong and suffer the consequences.” Sadly, this avoidance of pain marked my decisions and choices for a good part of my life.
I don’t tell this for sympathy, and most assuredly not to get anyone to dislike my father. I tell my story to offer insight into someone who, at the age of 42, received her bachelor’s degree and who, now at age 54, is earning her master’s degree in public administration. It’s been a long road to self-confidence.
And above all, I tell you to tell your parents. I know I’m as old or older than many of the professors at NSU and, certainly, as old as many students’ parents. Tell your parents that it’s never too late. They may be living vicariously through your achievements, seeing you become the first person in the family to receive a higher education. But tell them that they can pursue their dreams, too. I’ve not had children but I’m encouraged daily by my kind and loving husband, friends and co-workers. Sadly, my mother could not tell you what degrees I have. She does know that I’m not a teacher or radiologist.
Instead of looking at how long it’s taken me to attain my education and wallowing in self-pity, I look at how much I’ve achieved. Tell your parents that it’s not too late to pursue an associate’s degree, learn to play the piano, run a marathon, learn a new language, visit Paris or whatever dream they suppressed long ago. I hope my story will be an encouragement to others that it’s never too late, and with time and nurturing, a twig can reveal an evergreen.
