What’s worse than being misidentified as a former patient of a mental health facility? Having it happen on the first day of college. Our Memoirs of a New Dad columnist skips down memory lane
Chris Hunt graduated from Algonquin College’s journalism program in 2010. Photo Credit Angela Jacques
My very first day of college ended with my professor believing I was a long-term mental patient.
Enrolling in the program as a mature student was a very difficult decision for me. I went directly into the workforce following high school, but I always had an inkling that I was missing out by not going to college.
I was working at a post-psychiatric care centre. It was a rough job, but I learned so much. I didn’t understand what mental illness was until I started working at this facility and foolishly believed the stereotypical portrayal of mental illness in movies and media to be true.
I was incredibly nervous my first day and my selfish psyche was peppered with the same thoughts I had when I attended grade school: Will I fit in? What if I don’t take to the subject matter well? Should I take my Scooby-Doo lunch box to class?
It’d been almost a decade since I was last in the scholastic system and it showed. I had zero experience with any of the platforms that were currently in use, such as Adobe and InDesign.
I felt lost in every class and was sure I was going to fail out of the program. I recall sadly wondering how much money I’d be out if I dropped out immediately.
The teacher of my last class was Mark Anderson. He was funny, quirky and one of the best writers I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. He asked us to pair up and interview each other about our lives and then write a brief profile of that person.
I was partnered with a young man named Marc, who told me about his life in his small hometown and what he was hoping for from the program.
I, in turn, detailed my time in a psychiatric institution, though in my awkward nervousness I may have omitted the fact that I worked there.
At the end of class, I was the last one working as the prof read the assignments. “Wow,” he said. “There’s someone who spent 10 years as a patient in a mental institution.”
My heart dropped. I asked if it was written by Marc. He nodded and asked if I was Marc. I shook my head and said: “Nope. I’m … I’m the other guy.”
To his credit, the prof had an amazing poker face. He just pursed his lips and nodded. Part of me didn’t want to tell him the truth, if only to see how awkward things would be if I stuck the program out.
Instead, I clarified the issue which led to a genuine conversation about life experiences. It was that conversation that convinced me to stay with the program.
I was very fortunate to have had Mark Anderson as one of my teachers. He, along with former Parenting Times contributor Joe Banks, provided me many memorable moments. However, few will ever top the time I was mistaken for a mental patient.
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