"We think you would benefit from our work-study program." He said to me. He wasn't my high school counselor, and I wasn't eighteen. He was the division manager, and he had just offered to pay my expenses for attending a local community college. At thirty-three, I was working for a large company in a dead-end job, dead-end because I wasn't qualified for any management positions. Naturally, I enrolled in college. More benefits than I expected were to follow. I had hardly started when the first response greeted me: my family was clearly proud. I heard my two kids in elementary school bragging about me to kids in the neighborhood. They even brought me some of their tough homework questions. My wife had lots of questions about college. We talked about taking a class together. Unlike me, she had been a good student in high school. Then I had no interest in going on to college. Now I did, and one thing led to another. A geography class connected me with a geology class. A political science class moved me to subscribe to the Los Angeles Times. I became more curious about a variety of subjects, and I felt more confident in dealing with ideas. At work, my supervisors started asking me to become more involved in ongoing projects and planning. By the time I had taken my second English class, I was writing reports with much more confidence and skill. Now, after receiving a good job review and being interviewed by my plant manager, I am in line for a promotion that I once thought was beyond my reach. I had expected a classroom. I found much more.