“You can’t do that” …. words that make my heart sing!
I simply love it when people say things like this. It makes me realise that I am on exactly the right track and should continue what I am doing! It makes me realise that by thinking just a teeny weeny, OK sometimes completely, out of the box, that you see, hear and feel things that are amazing and might have otherwise gone unnoticed and unexperienced. These words also galvanise me into action far more than encouraging platitudes!
I was 33 when I went to university. They told me I was a mature student. I disagreed vehemently, I told them I was merely older and not to condemn me to a life of maturity thank you!
They told me it would be a challenge to live in Bermuda and study abroad.
“Yes”, I replied, “And your point is what exactly?”
There is great joy in stretching yourself, in pushing yourself a bit harder to achieve something you really desire and in my case that people suggested was out of my reach. Being able to simply do stuff is comforting and offers a safe haven for us to return. It’s a place where we can enjoy a level of certainty and accomplishment and know that we don’t have to worry about this particular thing. Like washing up. You can do it easily and will have security in the knowledge that it will get done. It’s not going to set your world on fire but it is achievable and therefore in many ways enjoyable. Once completed you can enjoy a sense of satisfaction.
Getting a degree isn’t like washing up. It’s difficult. And with the prestigious University of Durham as my goal, as my chosen place of study, the road there was fraught with danger. When I left school after a year at 6th form college ‘learning about myself’ (mainly in the sociology department, smoking weed & talking hippy waffle with my mates and pretending I understood existentialism) I didn’t have an A-levels so needed to do an access course at Bermuda College. There are many stories from this time in my life but the most gratifying is when my lecturer in Algebra said the immortal words
“I don’t think you will be able to complete this module”.
I got cross and even more determined. I needed basic algebra to complete my Associates Degree in Bermuda which would then offer me access to the world of university. Without this component I would not graduate. I would not achieve my dream. It needed to be conquered. Algebra, which in Arabic literally means ‘the reunion of broken parts’ is one of the broad parts of mathematics and deals with symbols and numbers and the rules regarding them. It is, according to Mr Google, a unifying thread in almost all mathematics. It is, according to Stephanie Hill, the worst correlation of numerical conundrums and therefore a nightmare from which I begged to be released. I offered to do extra English modules, extra science, extra flippin anything but NO MORE ALGEBRA!!!
“Sorry” said my lecturer
“Sorry” said the Dean
I had to complete this horrendous task to follow my dream of studying at Durham. I was determined that even though I have dyslexia and dyscalculia (dyslexia with numbers) I would not be beaten. I would NOT let some jumped-up, disparaging, demeaning little man berate me into thinking I could not do something. Every evening, I practiced Algebra. At weekends and holidays, whilst others lounged on the beach, I was having extra lessons with the fabulous tutor at the college. Every night I dreamt about little symbols and parentheses (brackets in English) around numbers and letters. I had algebraic equations on the kitchen cabinets, on the doors, on the bathroom mirror. I was going to pass this exam if it killed me.
Exam day came and went. I had failed. I knew it. I felt it. I was so very sad and so very disappointed with myself I remember huddling outside the exam hall just wondering why it was that I was so thick.
Results day came. I had passed. I saw it. On the board with all the other names of all the other brilliant people who had passed their exams. We had worked, we had overcome adversity. We had battled and shown ourselves as winners in life. I rejoiced. I hugged my tutor. I went in search of the Algebra lecturer who was sadly nowhere to be found…. probably best.
Graduation day came. I was to be first on stage. My parents were there. My hubby and friends were there. The algebra lecturer was there. Sweet justice was mine on that day. I led my fellow graduates through the audience to the stage and there he was, sitting sweating in the 95 degree heat which is Bermuda summer time. He looked uncomfortable. I looked jubilant. I sauntered onto the stage and just as I turned towards the Dean who would bestow my much sort after Associates Degree, I looked over my shoulder and gave that man the biggest smile he has ever known. My right middle finger may have raised itself just a wee bit too but the smile was all he needed to realise I would not be told ‘You can’t’.

Please do not listen to naysayers.
Use their negativity to move you forwards towards a goal or an objective
Enjoy the power of choice and the euphoria of carving your own path