In May of 1989 I turned 38 years old. In July of that same year I celebrated my 14^th wedding anniversary to my husband, Bob. I had two young children Jeanette, who was seven years old, and my youngest daughter Bridget was almost four.

In September of 1989 I entered Temple University at Tyler School of Art as a full-time Freshman. I was the first and the only adult to begin undergraduate studies as an adult at the Tyler Campus. I looked young for my age, but by no stretch of the imagination did I look seventeen or eighteen years old.

In 1987 my mother passed away from congestive heart failure. My father died eight months before her from lung cancer. The years that my parents became ill and eventually succumbed to their illnesses were the most difficult and painful I had ever experienced. Their absence from my life was almost unbearable.

But I learned many lessons from those experiences and the most important one I learned from my mother. She revealed to me in the last year before she died that her biggest regrets were not the mistakes, she made. But the things she had not done in her life. I made a vow to myself that I would not make these same mistakes. I didn’t want to come to the end of my life regretting the things not accomplished. I wasn’t going to allow anything to stand in my way for any reason, including fear and money.

I also learned what a strong woman I had become in the years between eighteen and forty. I learned to trust myself as a person with strong values. I realized I had courage and intelligence. It took all those years to believe in myself. I made a conscious decision to not allow anyone to dissuade me for any reason. And that is exactly what I did. I did not listen when I was told I was too old or didn’t have an art background.

Once I made the decision to go to Art School, I spent almost a year building my portfolio. And ultimately, I was accepted into all the art schools I applied at including Temple University and Hussian School of Art and Moore College of Art which is a women’s college.

I chose to attend Temple Tyler School of Art, which was then located in Cheltenham, Pa. I felt this school offered me the opportunity to not only attend a prestigious art school but access to all the classes at the main campus in Philadelphia. Pa., I wanted to learn more than art but also history, science, women studies, and literature.

At one point before I decided to major in art, I also considered becoming a writer. The second reason I choose Temple Tyler School of art was the University offered me full financial aid for the entire Freshman year. This offer was based on my being a woman of a certain age. And the scores I attained in the University entrance exam. And I believed my determination to go to this school played a big part in my acceptance and financial aid.

The first week as a full-time student was a momentous one for me. Here I was in the mid-point of my life and I was a college Freshman.

The First Day

I leave Bridget in the car seat while I walk Jeanette up to the baby sitter’s front door. The baby sitter had a child had in Franklin Elementary School as well. Her daughter happens to be Jeanette’s best friend. She’s one year younger than Jeanette. I have been babysitting her during the summer months for years since she was a young child. They agreed to walk Jeanette to school along with their own child. The school was just down the street. “Bye Jeanette, I’ll see you after school. I love you.”  Jeanette was so happy to be spending time with her best friend Laura, she didn’t look back, she just yelled, “Bye Mom see you later.”

I jump back into the front seat behind the wheel. I look at Bridget. She’s smiling as usual, always a happy little girl. Her eyes were as big as saucers. “OK Bridget you’re going to the First Baptist Christian Day School. And you are going to make a lot of friends and have tons of fun. You’re so lucky.” She smiles at me. I have to admit I felt a little guilty. But I had spent seven years being a stay at home mom. And I thought they would benefit being with other children and adults. They both had a tendency to be somewhat reticent with people they didn’t know.

I held Bridget’s hand tightly as we walk into the school, and into her classroom. I met her teacher, Mrs. Miller. She looks as if she is about seventy-five years old. And I think, Oh how is she going to handle all these little kids?

“Hello, Mrs. Miller, I’m Susan Culver and this is my daughter, Bridget. She’s starting pre-school here today.”

“Well Mrs. Culver don’t you worry Bridget will be just fine here with me.”

“I’m sure she will, however, she has never been in school before or even had a babysitter before now.”

“Yes, yes Mrs. Culver not too worry, she’ll be just fine, be on your way now.”

“Oh yes of course, let me say goodbye first.”

“No, it’s better if mothers don’t make a big fuss when leaving their little ones here.”

“Oh, alright and I walk to the door and then turn back and took a final look at my little girl. Thinking, oh I hope I haven’t made a mistake doing this. “As I look across the room, I see Bridget sitting in a circle with the other little kids singing like she’s been coming here all of her life. She looks happy. I feel the knot in my stomach loosen a bit.

My first day at school was about to begin as well. And I was feeling equal amounts of excitement and fear. I had graduated from high school in 1969. And so, it had been a long, long time since I was in a classroom as a student. But this was the first time I wanted to go to school. I’m excited about learning and being challenged. All the teachers at Tyler wanted the students to learn and grow as an artist. They were all artists as well.

As I pull out into the street next to First Baptist Christian Day School. I am about to meet my first challenge. I have to drive from Merchantville, NJ to Pennsylvania.  And that meant I had to cross the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge to North East Philadelphia and then on to Cheltenham, Pa.

What challenge is that you may ask? Well, the challenge is my fear of bridges and heights. The Tacony Bridge is a drawbridge that allows large ships to go under the bridge to the port at Philadelphia. And I am terrified of bridges. Why, because one time when I was young, under five I was in the car sitting on my mother’s lap. And we were going over the Walt Whitman Bridge. I leaned against the door and the door swung open and I fell out onto the bridge. Luckily my father was at a standstill waiting until the drawbridge closed that was allowing a ship to pass under the bridge.

I don’t remember much more than this. Except how angry my father was at me. Even though obviously it wasn’t my fault I was a child, the door wasn’t locked and I was sitting on my mother’s lap and not in my own seat in the back. Of course, back then there weren’t car seats or seat belts for that matter. And my father was mad because it scared him witless when I fell out. And ever since that day I was afraid of going over bridges.

I found out that the first day that I drove over the bridge was I wasn’t afraid anymore. Why, because I was the one doing the driving. Before this, I had always insisted that my husband drives to Philadelphia. Now I had control of my car, and I was safe. That’s the day I overcame my fear of bridges. And it was a good thing because for the next four years sometimes I had to go back and forth twice a day. So, I met that first challenge.

My second challenge was getting to the Tyler School without getting lost. One of my shortcomings is a complete lack of a sense of direction. Never had one, still don’t. My husband Bob wrote clear and precise directions to and from Tyler. And he drew a map. I taped the map to the dashboard to the right of the steering wheel. Thanks to him, I made my way to school and back without getting lost once. Of course, at some point I remembered the route without the map. Although for some reason my brain often has difficulty figuring out how to go home even though it is the same except for the direction I’m headed. It always takes me longer to learn the way back from just about anywhere I go.

As I made my final right turn into the stone walled parking lot of Tyler, I was torn between excitement and trepidation at making it this far in my dream of becoming an artist. Spending a year getting my portfolio prepared, applying to the art schools and participating in the portfolio reviews, and waiting for news of whether I was accepted or not. I was thrilled when I was accepted by all the schools where I applied. And even more thrilled to get financial aid and grants.

As I sat in my car in the parking lot, I look around I realize my car was the only one there. I look at my car clock and I realize that I was once again I would be the first one to arrive. This is a life-long habit, arriving early. After twelve years of Catholic School I was neurotic about being late. As this was practically considered a “Mortal Sin.” And for the next four years I was always the first student to arrive in every class. Which was of benefit to me because it gave me time to study. Time is valuable when you in college. I scheduled every minute of my day. Especially for me a Freshman student who was married and has a house and two small children to take care of. In addition, I made the decision to have two majors, graphic design and art education.

As I walk out of the parking lot, I realize I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I broke out in a sweat. Then I remembered I had a campus map in my backpack. My first class was the Freshman Graphic Design Class. I look on the map for the building and found my way there. I walked over to a man who was trimming some bushes and said,” Hello, my name is Susan Culver. I’m just starting here today. Can you tell me if this is the Graphic Arts Building?”

He said, “yes, it is right through that door at the top of the steps, but you may be a mite early.”
“Thanks so much, I’m a bit nervous this is my first day here. What’s your name?”

“My name is Patrick. I’m one of the groundskeepers here. I worked here for years.”

“Oh, really it’s nice to meet you. Thanks for your help.”

“Your welcome, good luck, Susan.”

After that morning I made it my business to say hello to Patrick every time I saw him. He was my first friend at Tyler. Always pleasant, kind, and welcoming to me and all the other students.

I made my way to the top of the steps and down the hall and found the right room number, no one else was there. Surprise. I sit in the first seat of the front row. I didn’t want to miss a thing. As the students start to arrive almost every one of them asked me if I was the teacher. And I responded, “No, I ‘m a student.”

And they each gave me a funny look and found a seat. One of the students came up to me and said, HI, y name is Lynette Brown.”

“HI Lynette, I’m Susan Culver. My mother’s name was Brown and she was born in Philadelphia. Maybe we’re related.”

She took a long look at me and said,” Somehow I doubt it.” We both laughed. She was a young black student. She was eighteen years old. We both laughed and we started talking. It turns out that we had almost identical class schedules and she was also majoring in Art and Art Education. We spent the better part of the next four years together. We became great friends despite the age difference. We even did our teaching practicums together in our junior and senior years. She was extremely talented, and intelligent. She even enjoyed my sarcastic sense of humor.

One of the promises I made to myself before I started my student career was to make friends with as many people as I could while I was a student. This was not an easy challenge for me since I spent my entire life up to that point being quiet and reticent with people I didn’t know. But starting from that first day of school I made it my business to introduce myself to every student I came into contact with and most of the staff at the campus.

When I went to the student lunchroom for break or lunch if there wasn’t an empty table, I would walk over to one of the tables with an empty seat and say,” Hi, I’m Susan Culver. Would you mind if I sit here and have lunch with you?’ They always said, “Yeah, sure.” And then I would ask everyone at the table, “what class are you taking?” And this is how I became acquainted with every student at the school.

The teachers kept it professional at all times. Even though quite a few of my teachers were about my age. They soon realized that I always had my assignments done on time. And they would call on me to put my artwork up to be critiqued first. And they showed me no pity. I believe all the other students benefited by these critiques because they didn’t want their work to be so harshly critiqued as mine was every day. They learned what not to do, and what was expected by my mistakes.

That first day was only a small taste at what I would experience as an art student. But by far Freshman Life Studies Drawing class was the most challenging for many reasons. It was four hours every day. You had to draw standing up at an easel and the models were mostly young people male and female. One time one of the maintenance workers modeled for our class and he was about fifty. I had a hard time talking to him when I met him in the hall after that. The models had to stand for hours in the same position and they were nude. About five of the Freshman students dropped out of class that first day because they were not prepared to draw nude models. After a time, I started looking at the models as just one more object to draw that reflected light and shadow. And it stopped bothering me altogether.

And so, ended my first day. It was a day that challenged me and changed me for the better.

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