Bureaucracies And Detour Signs Don't Mix

Life doesn't turn out the way you expect it to... at least for most people. There's the famous Lennon quote to that effect, beyond the much older "best laid plans" adage.

So why is it that if your life doesn't follow that of Joe Average, the whole bureaucracy comes down on you? There is such a thing as being penalized, however unintentionally, for having some unexpected development in your life, whether pregnancy or illness or natural disaster. For the latter case, in particularly spectacular circumstances, support groups come up and help people put their lives together... but every day, someone's spouse is dying of a terminal illness and they're facing reentering the workforce after being a stay-at-home for fifteen years. Who's going to stand up and guide them through the maze of paperwork and resumes and interviews?

Bureaucracy lurks everywhere, too. I had the seven-year roadblock of chronic illness that stopped me in my tracks just as I was starting to get into the adult world. I've solved many of my health problems and I'm ready to end the hiatus; I don't have a lot of the problems others in my shoes have, since my living situation is stable, I have no children, and my debt is very manageable. For the most part, people have been pretty sympathetic about the fact that I lost seven years, and try their best to get me back on track.

What set off this rant was school. I was in college for two years before I had to quit because of illness; I tried one more year, pulling half-time at another school before I quit again. Five years later, I'm threading my way through community college on my way to a state school, trying to complete my Bachelor's with my eye on a Master's. So I'm at my third school, with plans to transfer to a fourth.

I'll tell you, they don't make it easy. The good part is that I've already had financial aid, so the government knows me. The bad parts.... well, beyond the fact that no job or academic application has room for four colleges plus high school, Diablo Valley College is not exactly the best guide through the back-to-school process. Don't get me wrong, it's a great school academically, but the office staff is kind of hit-or-miss.

I applied for financial aid, which took a half-hour counseling appointment. We figured out what classes I was going to take, and that was that hoop.... but my target school, UC Davis, has a policy that transfer students who have "too many units" have to go to a private school instead. Do I have too many units? I dunno; I'll end up driving the fifty miles to a counseling appointment there to find out.

It's not looking too bright, though, considering I went in the other day and was told I'd be getting financial aid for last semester (don't ask what that took), but I wouldn't be getting any more until I got a waiver on the 90-credit limit for DVC. Apparently, I've taken too many units for DVC to tolerate, so I basically have to plead my case, telling them that I'm picking up the pieces and switching majors after a major life upheaval. And to do this, I -- ta-daa -- have to get myself another counseling appointment, a full hour this time, to cover all the ground we already did in the half hour. And oh, by the way, I'm not allowed to even schedule that appointment until classes start a week later.

I registered for classes this afternoon, one of which being the second English class required for transfer. I was told there was a prerequisite, and I answered that I had taken it at a previous school. Did I have transcripts on file? I damn well should. So off went the registration fellow, and thirty patient minutes later returned to tell me someone was checking my records. In short order my little form was signed off and I was registered for the class... I muttered that at least it was a relief that my transcripts really were there, since I have learned over the years not to take staff offices at their word (especially one office in particular at DVC). And the guy behind the counter tells me, kindly, as my receipt prints out, "Actually, you shouldn't have had to go through any of that at all." What a surprise. That's turning into a kind of chorus, punctuating my efforts to get back onto academic whitelists.

There is an office offering a huge number of support programs, from specific counseling to book vouchers to child care and financial aid opportunities... but they won't talk to you unless you're full-time, as in four classes a term. I'm taking two classes, as is my SO, Nick. I'm taking two because I'm still wary of my health, and I'm hoping to get a part-time job. He's doing it because he doesn't want to burn out by plunging back into school too fast. As a result, neither of us can get any of this fruit hanging so tantalizingly out of reach... because it's assumed that anyone attending less than full-time either has a job, or is merely enriching themselves with a class or two on the side. What about us? What about mothers who can't (or won't) put their children in child care? What about those with health issues -- oh, wait, all of them have qualified for disability or Worker's Comp and are getting income. Silly me.

School is important to me, and having to jump through ever smaller and more convoluted hoops is driving me to screaming frustration. But I can't help but think about the people who have become victims of identity theft, or unexpected bankruptcy, or a house fire that destroyed irreplaceable documents. What are they having to do to simply get their lives into enough order again to just be able to work, or buy groceries, or cash a check? There's an old lady who was featured in the paper who just won something like an 18-month fight to keep the house she lived in, after doubts came up that she owned it. After her plight was detailed in the news, money and legal expertise showed up, and she's living in a house now that will have much-needed renovations done with the small amount of money won in the case. A very happy ending, but she didn't know it would be that before the fact... Think about it: a year and a half of suspense, wondering whether you're going to be homeless at seventy or so, trying your best to hang on in a tug-of-war against the tireless machinery trying to take your house away. How many others are living that nightmare, because of a mistake, or because something unforeseen happened?

The things you worry about almost never happen, and the things that happen are almost never the things you worry about. Nobody can guess that life is going to take a left at Albuquerque, and you're going to end up someplace you never heard of. It's made all the harder when people -- and especially the social and bureaucratic engines -- fail to understand that you're now at point D on your way from A to B. As money gets tighter and companies consolidate into ever more impersonal corporations, the cracks widen and get more treacherous. I'm just doing my best to straddle my own small chasm, and try to spare a thought for those who don't have the means, energy, or choice to hang on.

--A