An Anchor in Stormy Seas
Thirty years ago dressed in my cap and gown, my heart swelling with pride, I was waiting for my name to be called to receive my diploma, doubting that it was true. Three years prior, in my late twenties, I had left a poisonous marriage behind, broken down spiritually and emotionally and moved from San Francisco to my parents’ house in Modesto carrying an 18-month old child in my arms. I couldn’t even have dreamed of this day. I was still fighting the belief ingrained deep in my psyche by my ex-husband that I was only good enough to work at McDonald’s…as he had told me so many times.
When I started at MJC, I had been in this country for about four years. I could read a magazine article looking up every other word in the dictionary. Like all other immigrants from the Middle East who learn to read and write from right to left in their native countries, I had to switch gears in my head and throw away all the rules of grammar and language.
We were a “fresh off the boat” family of immigrants. Four of our five family members attended MJC. We all shared one vehicle. My mom would drop my dad off in the morning to run the small convenience store he had opened, then she would come home to drive us all to school. She attended ESL classes at the college just so she could write checks in the stores and make sense of the bills in the mail. One summer my brother saved enough money to buy a Moped. The three of us siblings sat in a row holding on to each other’s backs, until we got a ticket one day for reckless driving. Then my brother would take one of us at a time and returned home to take the other.
Throughout my studies at MJC I felt as if the teachers had a stake in my success. They invested a piece of their heart and soul as well; Dr. Jim Curl, gingerly walked me through three courses of calculus. Dr. James Johnson taught me not only to solve problems with the Fortran programming language but how to do so elegantly with the fewest lines of code. Tom Eckle opened a window revealing the elements of human psychology. Mr. Davis hammered in those basic accounting principles. And, Gary Philips taught me to never watch a movie the same way ever again. Although my brothers went on to four year colleges and universities and graduated, I was unable to continue with my studies at Stanislaus State as I had planned. I started working in the Bay Area as a programmer and I was able to provide a decent living for myself and my son with a two-year degree in Computer Science.
Some twenty five years later, at the height of my career, I lost my son, Michael, to epilepsy. I found myself grief-stricken and washed my hands of my life and everything that had ever held any meaning for me. Once again, this time in my late fifties, I sold and packed my life and moved to Modesto. Once again, I turned to MJC where I gained inspiration from Professor Dimitri Keriotis who nurtured a relentless desire in me to write. His writing workshops helped me explore parts of my life I’d never discovered.
MJC has touched my life in a profound way. I am a better person thanks to MJC.
- Moni Azizi, Class of 1986