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from A Year of Our Own...

William Baeck: Travel Writing & Photography

William Baeck: Travel Writing & Photography

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School

Aline was the first to see that we needed an outlet that stimulated instead of anesthetized us. So began happiness by overachievement, aka “The Plan.”

It started with her mentioning, as casually as wives do, that she was thinking of joining a program called the MLA. This, I assumed, meant signing up for a type of Liberation Army.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It stands for the Master of Liberal Arts program. It’s a multi-disciplinary graduate degree program at Stanford University.”

“Stanford…University?” I suddenly saw us switching to a single-income household while she went back to school. A Very Expensive School. But we spouses are a supportive lot as a general rule, and I was bred true to the form. “That’s great,” I said, manfully winching up both sides of my mouth into a smile. “You could quit work and get a Master’s degree.”

“No, that’s the thing,” she replied. “You don’t have to quit work. It’s designed for people who work full time. You go at night. And it’s really cheap, about twelve grand for the whole program. So you don’t go broke attending.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have have kept saying the word “you.” Three times she said it, and it was like Macbeth’s witches winding up a charm. She had relayed the subtle implication that I ought to think about joining as well.

I had no interest in participating in the program. But I also had a dog’s desire not to be left behind. I could see her leaving each night for school while I sat on the front porch, looking fondly after her and wondering who would feed me dinner.

So Aline dedicated herself to the project and applied. Being less willing to commit than she was I asked if she’d mind my sending in an application form just for fun, to see what happened. “Not at all,” she demurred. My application went in. She wrote the three essays required for acceptance. I figured “why not?” and wrote three essays too. We each begged letters of reference from people who had impressive credentials and might like us, we transferred copies of our school records, and we sent in our bios and curriculum vitae. That should have been a clue—even their resumes had latin names. It looked a lot like I was applying as well.

Several weeks later two big envelopes arrived. It struck us both right around then that we didn’t mind if I didn’t get in and she did. And we would be alright if we both didn’t get it. But it would be just awful if she didn’t get in and I did. It meant a lot to her, whereas I was just along for the ride.

But they were both letters of acceptance. And for the next five years we went to work during the day and school at night. I learned about ancient Mesopotamia, the search for life in the cosmos, enviromental ethics. I played King Lear in Shakespeare class and explored da Vinci’s interest in everything. I studied human rights, global peace, and Egypt in 2,000 BCE. It was the most intellectually challenging and stimulating time of my life. My Master’s degree would cost me $13,000 but I was now smart.

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