COLLEGE-Hygiene School

“The only way to see yourself clearly as who you truly are is to take off the glasses of society and see yourself through the eyes of Love.”

     How I was accepted into The University Of San Francisco, California is still beyond crazy. Being on the Dean’s list at UCSB didn’t hurt, but my national test scores were below average. UCSF only accepted eighteen students for their one and only undergraduate hygiene program, and I squeezed in. My mom and I were told that the curriculum would be like a full time job. My classes would be from 8-5, and I would be taking TWENTY-SEVEN units a quarter. WHAT! How is that possible? I could only handle twelve units at UCSB. There is NO way I am going to be able to do this.

     “Do your best, Kathleen,” My dad said. “That’s all we ask.”

     Being (what seemed) to be the only blonde in the foggy Sunset District of San Francisco, I created the experience of being a total outcast. My jean shorts and flip flops were quickly replaced with blazers and closed toed loafers which killed my feet. Every student seemed over-the-top appreciative of being the chosen one, and talked about teeth like I talked about my new boyfriend.
     Jay would come up monthly, and we would disappear into my bedroom all weekend long. One time, he even surprised me with a two-night stay in Las Vegas, making sure that we had sex prior to handing me the tickets. “Pack your bags, muffin.” He said. We’re going to Excalibur!” I had never felt more high. That was definitely one of the two highlights in my two years of hygiene hell. The other was modeling for a Nike catalog. A representative for the company approached me at the gym. My father told me that it must be a scam. I fearfully accepted anyway. After they paid me $200, I was asked to pose for The Gap. My father freaked. I was not to miss class, and I declined the offer. Now, I know that I was never going to be a model, but...THE GAP!?! Bummer. I remember another classmate asked me why I listened to my parents so much. It had not been the first time I had been asked that question. My imagined future answer was always the same, “They are paying for me, and I don’t want to be an ingrate. I will do what I want and start MY life once I graduate.
     Meanwhile, I continued to “do my best,” taking Head and Neck Anatomy, Neurology, and all the other hygiene courses. The hygiene students took many classes with the dental students, but the tests had a different curve for us girls. There is a God! After each test, I thought I had flunked. I hated the subjects, and my mind would wander. I ended up being the annoying classmate who got straight A’s. 

     But...but...I really thought I got an “F,” I said and meant it. 

     My experience was that I had to study twice as hard as everyone else, even asking my two besties (Tanja being one of them) if I was...stupid? Their mouth dropped, “Stupid?” After they could clearly see that I was serious, they validated, “You are going to UCSF. You would have never been accepted if you weren’t smart!” It didn’t matter. I was dumb, and they just didn’t get it because I told myself the story that they were dumb, too. Comparison is a killer, and I was amongst brainiacs that actually dug and understood a language that I didn’t comprehend nor wanted to. 
     Days before our graduation, our hygiene class gave one another gag gifts. I was given a huge “F” made out of cardboard. Everyone laughed and said, “Here, Kathleen, you finally get your “F.” My heart dropped, and I had to force myself not to cry.

      I graduated with honors, but I was still an “F” in my illusory mind. Nothing outside of myself could prove to me that I was worthy. No matter what title I achieved, I still felt a void. I had a secret that no one either wanted to say out loud or would soon find out. I was stupid. A not enough story that at times surfaces to this day.