The Sixth Year

Excerpt of Chapter One

It was the sixth year. Spending five years in college was acceptable if you made last minute  changes  to  your major or if your finances became challenging. Being in school for a sixth year was unbearable and simply embarrassing. I was happy to live off campus because it was much easier to hide from the “classification police.” You know those people. The ones that would make comments like, “Dude you still here?” or “Weren’t you a senior last year?” It seemed as though everyone was wondering why I was still there. 

The huge expanse of tall corn stalks behind the Oakwood College Church  provided a welcome respite from those that sought to ask about my presence on campus. Taking this shortcut to the apartment I shared with my older brother ensured that I wasn’t seen, wasn’t offered a ride, and wasn’t asked any potentially embarrassing questions about overstaying my welcome. Either way, this route was a much shorter distance and great for disappearing acts. 

All of my spring classes were held in the Mosley Complex, a cluster of classrooms adjacent to the Black Adventist Mecca, Oakwood College Church. In my last semester, I wanted to graduate so badly that I overloaded on twenty-four credit hours of coursework, which consisted of a compilation of two Griggs Homestudy courses and sixteen hours of on-campus classes. It was absolutely mind taxing. As I reflect on that sixth year, I wish I had the tenacity in the previous five years that I had in that last year, and specifically my last semester. Those nights were long, late, and arduous. The days were insufferable. As the semester drew to a close, it was time for me to submit my intent for graduation. My advisor and I combed through the six year long transcripts, paying close attention to the courses in my field of study, Theology and Biblical Studies.

Rule#1. All grades for courses in your major must not fall below a C average. Talk about pressure.

 I remember as though it were yesterday. It was at the end of this rigorous final semester and all of my exams were finally over. The main halls of The Moseley Complex are lined with portraits of great professors of Religion and Theology past and present. As I walked past each of them, it felt as if they were all glaring at me. Each pair of eyes followed me with extreme displeasure.  I vowed never to visit the campus of Oakwood College again.  I had spent six years there and wasted at least two of them in riotous living (Luke 15). I spent one year in the DLRC learning center due to being on academic probation and another year pining over a girl I thought I would marry. 

 I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn’t notice the tall, distinguishable man treading softly through the hallowed corridors toward me. An extremely confident man, he had the ability to come across as arrogant, but he was nonetheless, very well respected. 

 “Young twin,” he said. “Which conference would be so blessed to have you as their pastor?” Looking up at this gentle giant, I swole up and stood my ground. 

 “I’m not planning on entering ministry,” I replied to Dr. E.E. Cleveland as confidently as I could. 

 While at Oakwood, I worked at Sound Cell Recording Studio in Huntsville, AL with my mentor Doug Smith, where I learned everything that I needed to be the premier music producer that I felt I was destined to be. I had the opportunity to record music with a variety of artists and experience the development of a catalog of music. I even had the opportunity to listen to Brian Mcknight record songs that have never been released. I was never one that wanted my name in lights, but I was certain that I was destined to be the next Mervyn Warren, an Oakwood alumnus, whom I considered to be the greatest music arranger/producer of all time. 

 I might as well have punched Dr. E.E. Cleveland in the stomach! What a stare! It was as though he stopped breathing.  The Great Evangelist’s pupils seemed to be dilated as he muttered, “You must preach the gospel, or God will see to it that you do...even if it’s from a wheelchair.” 

 His statement frightened me, but I went along in my rebellious way. I was set on doing what I wanted to do, and no one, not even the great Dr. E.E. Cleveland, could tell me otherwise.

 There were only a few days left for all the grades to be calculated before graduation. My twin brother Paul, eldest brother Garry, and I were all about to graduate together. For this triple graduation, we had relatives and church family coming in from all over the country. 

 Then the news came that I earned a grade which would not allow me to take part in the graduating class of 1994. I had to wait for the next year to graduate and receive my degree. I felt crushed, embarrassed, and broken. As I sat in the backseat of the van for the long ride home, I remember looking through the rear window as I pulled out of a city I vowed never to return to.