Sometimes the long way around is the only way forward.
The First Fall
I was eighteen and convinced I knew everything. College felt like a waste of time when I could be out in the “real world” making money and living my life. But honestly, the bigger issue was that college requires a level of self-discipline and personal responsibility that no one prepares you for. There’s no teacher hovering over you, making sure you get up and go to class. No one checking that you’ve done your homework or stayed awake during lectures.
I wasn’t ready for that freedom and responsibility. And there’s actually science behind why: the prefrontal cortex, which controls executive functioning and long-term decision making, isn’t fully developed until around age 25. At eighteen, I literally didn’t have the brain development to consistently make good choices about my future over immediate gratification. So I dropped out. Just like that. My parents were disappointed, and everyone talked about all that wasted potential.
Looking back, I did regret it. But not for the reasons everyone thought I would.
The Second Fall
Fast forward a few years. I was in my early twenties, a new parent, and finally ready to admit that maybe I needed that degree. So I tried again. I enrolled in classes, bought the textbooks, and showed up with the best of intentions.
But here’s what I didn’t understand then: being exhausted from new parenthood while trying to juggle coursework is nearly impossible. Add to that the fact that my brain still wasn’t fully mature (remember, that prefrontal cortex development), and I was trying to manage competing priorities without the neurological tools to do it well. I was overwhelmed, struggling to keep up, and frankly, I just couldn’t handle it all. So I dropped out again.
(And yes, there was also an embarrassing coffee incident that became the final straw – but that’s a story for next week’s post.)
Two strikes. In most people’s minds, I was out.
The Years Between
What happened next wasn’t glamorous. I worked. I struggled. I made mistakes and learned from them. I got married, and when my husband joined the army while I was pregnant with our second child, I learned what it meant to manage everything on my own during his deployments to Iraq. Those years of solo parenting while he was in a warzone taught me resilience I didn’t know I had.
I got involved with the PTA and discovered I loved working in schools. That led to becoming a paraprofessional, which opened my eyes to education in a whole new way. By the time my husband was medically retired, and I could finally focus on school again, I wasn’t just ready – I was hungry for it.
Those years weren’t wasted time. They were preparation time.
While my high school classmates were earning degrees and starting careers, I was learning lessons you can’t get in a classroom: patience, resilience, humility, and most importantly, the value of education itself.
The Third Time’s the Charm
When I finally returned to college in my thirties, everything was different. I wasn’t the same person who had walked away twice before.
This time:
- I knew why I was there
- I understood the sacrifice involved
- I could delay gratification for long-term goals
- I had real-world experience to connect with academic concepts
- I appreciated every opportunity to learn
The coursework that would have felt impossible in my teens and twenties now felt challenging but manageable. Not because it was easier, but because I was finally ready for it.
From Student to Scholar
That bachelor’s degree led to a master’s degree, which led to a teaching career, which eventually led to doctoral studies. Today, I’m Dr. Katie Fields, a professor and author specializing in trauma-responsive education.
But here’s the thing that makes me good at what I do: I understand struggle. I understand non-linear paths. I understand that timing matters more than talent.
When I work with students who are struggling, when I see kids who don’t fit the traditional mold, when I encounter educators who feel like failures, I get it. I’ve been there. My own winding path taught me that there’s no single timeline for success.
What I Learned About Timing
Your timeline is not my timeline. In our achievement-obsessed culture, we’ve created this myth that there’s a “right” way and a “right” time to accomplish things. Graduate high school at 18, college at 22, career by 25, etc.
But human development doesn’t follow a checklist. Some of us are late bloomers. Some of us need to take the scenic route. Some of us have to fall down twice before we’re ready to stand up and stay up.
The detours taught me what the straight path couldn’t. Those years of “failure” gave me:
- Empathy for struggling students
- Understanding of different learning styles and needs
- Appreciation for education as a privilege, not a right
- Real-world perspective that enriches my academic work
- Stories that connect with students who feel like outsiders
For Anyone on Their Own Winding Path
If you’re reading this and you feel behind, if you’ve started and stopped, if you’re wondering if it’s “too late”, let me tell you something:
It’s not too late. It’s exactly the right time if you’re ready.
The students who inspire me most as a professor weren’t the traditionally successful ones. They were the ones who had taken the long way around—the single mothers returning to school, the veterans starting over, the career changers pursuing their dreams.
They brought something to the classroom that eighteen-year-olds couldn’t: purpose, perspective, and appreciation.
The Bottom Line
My path from two-time dropout to PhD wasn’t a failure followed by success. It was all part of the same story – a story about finding your readiness, your purpose, and your time.
The eighteen-year-old who dropped out wasn’t wrong. She just wasn’t ready. The twenty-something who tried again wasn’t a failure. She just needed more time to grow.
And the thirty-something who finally succeeded? She was the same person, just ready for the journey.
Sometimes the best thing you can do is trust your timing even when it doesn’t look like anyone else’s.
Dr. Katie Fields is the co-author, with Dr. Jill M. Davis, of the forthcoming book “From Breakdowns to Breakthroughs” and specializes in trauma-informed education. Her non-traditional path to academia informs her work with struggling students and educators. She believes that everyone has their own timeline for success, and that’s exactly as it should be.
Want More Stories About Non-Traditional Paths?
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