Well, I finished my last class of the semester today, which means it’s time for a bit of reflection.

As you may remember, I got off to a somewhat rocky start with my classes this spring (okay, so I’m understating things a little bit. What’s the literary term for ‘opposite of hyperbole’? Whatever it is, I’m using it.)

To be blunt, midterms were a nightmare. I felt just like I did when my husband was trying to teach me how to drive a stickshift in a parking lot that was uphill in every direction–“I will never be able to do this!”

Apparently, I wasn’t very good at hiding my deep distress from my classmates: the first class after our midterm, one of them said to me, “Wow, you’re back! I thought for sure you’d be dropping out after that.”

Yeah. Dropping out. If you read my “big-girl panties” post from the beginning of the semester, then you know that all comments like that do is make me angry enough to push on.

So I didn’t drop out. I worked harder, practiced more, cursed a lot, worked some more, cursed some more–call it my “blue period”–and eventually, over the past few weeks, I felt like I was slowly learning how to get myself up those hills.

That’s not to say that I didn’t still backslide occasionally or grind the gears (anyone who watched me trying to print out my project last week in the lab will vouch for the smoke pouring out of my ears), but I finally felt like things were starting to chug along the way they were supposed to.

And of course, timing being what it is, the classes are now over for the summer, just as I was starting to get the hang of them.

So–was it a worthwhile endeavor? Absolutely. I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. In fact, I’ve already registered for a class in the fall (only one, though–I know my aggravation factor now and will respect it).

What made it worthwhile? Well, I learned.  A lot.

A sampling:

Everything has an on switch, including people; some are just harder to find than others.

Throwing your shoe at the thing (or individual) causing your problem rarely helps solve it.

There’s no crying in software class.

Save first, save often, save last, and save even after you think you’ve already saved. If you forget to save, see previous item for advice on how to proceed.

The best teachers are those who know how to push you out of your comfort zone without pushing you over the edge.

You never know if you don’t try. And sometimes, even when you do try, you still don’t know. It’s okay–that’s part of the learning process.

You have to learn to crawl before you learn to walk; you have to learn to walk before you learn to fly; and you have to learn how to do approximately 1 million boring, mundane, and insanely repetitive exercises before software teachers show you what truly cool stuff the software can do.

Skilled is good, but skilled and fast is better.

There’s a reason they call it the “spinning wheel of death” (Mac) or the “black screen of death” (PC). If either one appears on your screen, run, do not walk, to the nearest lab assistant.

Software manuals are impossible to read in a doctor’s waiting room.

Technology is not the enemy (most of the time).

User groups are scary. (I don’t actually know this for a fact; I was too scared to attend mine–maybe this fall.)

In the end, I think I learned more about myself than I did about the subjects I was studying–some of what I learned was good (I will not spontaneously combust through use of the Pen tool); some of it–well, let’s just say there will always be room for improvement (I’ve registered for that course this fall.)

And there is, of course, the illuminating fact that I did, eventually, master driving a stick shift–and wound up loving it. I’m not saying I’m going to love technology at any point in the near future, but at least I am no longer afraid of it. That right there was worth the cost of tuition.