EDITOR’S NOTE: This story is one of a collection written by University of North Texas journalism students as part of a feature writing course. This year’s stories deal with the challenges facing everyone in light of the global economic downturn.

Fifty-two-year-old Judy Plank is ready to get back on her feet.

Two decades ago, a car accident left her with a chronic neck injury. After two years of being out of work, Plank returned, working briefly in the airline industry. But the demanding work took a toll on her injured spine.

Unable to find another job, Plank packed up and moved to Indonesia to be with her husband, who was working on a geothermal project at the time.

Three years and a messy divorce later, Plank found herself left with nothing but spousal support and a painful spinal disability.

“I’m limited by my disability, and [therefore] jobs are limited,” said Plank. “It’s really discouraging when you have a four-page resume and you can’t get a call for an interview.”

But Plank says she has never been the type to give up. She knew she needed to obtain marketable skills so she could overcome the limitations she faces in having a disability.

Today, Plank is attending the University of North Texas as one of the many nontraditional students seeking to launch new careers. More than 4,500 of UNT’s 28,500 undergraduate students are classified as nontraditional.

Bonita Jacobs directs the UNT National Institute for the Study of Transfer Students. She spent 11 years as the university’s vice president for student development.

Jacobs said that while the term “nontraditional” is highly diverse and not easily defined, most simply put, it refers to “an undergraduate student who is 26 years old or older.”

The term, however, is typically expanded to include married students, students with children, and those in other atypical circumstances.

“Nontraditional students bring a wealth of diverse backgrounds and experiences to the university community,” Jacobs said.

The dean of students office works with nontraditional students, including military veterans. The office helps UNT cater to these students’ needs and aiding with any challenges they may face in returning to school.

‘Age is a state of mind’

David West rides the Dallas commuter bus to and from school each day.

The 47-year-old had toyed with the idea of going back to college when he realized he wasn’t happy working service jobs. When West lost his job, he finally put the ambiguous idea into focus.

He is now taking sophomore-level language classes and pursuing a degree in French at UNT. His plan is to become a translator, with a backup plan of teaching.

Back in the ’80s, West was a young art major at UNT. But West said that when tuition tripled, he dropped out.

Maybe it was his self-proclaimed “insatiable curiosity” that drew him back to a life of textbooks and homework. But while many people his age might cringe at the thought of being surrounded by 20-somethings each day, West embraces it.

“Age is a state of mind — you’re only as old as you think you are,” West said. “I haven’t felt any different than I did in my early 20s.”

There’s only one thing that West can’t seem to get used to.

“This right here,” he said with a laugh, holding up his laptop case.

Even still, West is a fortunate man. Upon returning to UNT, he learned that the elective credits he took back in the ’80s now count toward the core curriculum requirements.

As for those hours of art credits, West now has a minor in art to complement his French major.

“It’s almost like it all fell into place the way it was supposed to,” West said.

Finding security in the recession

Pam Hinterscher has been a stay-at-home mom for the past seven and a half years. When a massive downsizing at her husband’s company threatened the family’s livelihood, Hinterscher recalls it as “the most frightening layoff we’ve ever endured.”

Fortunately, her husband’s job was spared, but Hinterscher realized that she needed to be employable and have a job in case the unthinkable ever did occur.

Hinterscher is pursuing an English/language arts degree at UNT. Upon completing the teaching certification, Hinterscher plans to teach high school English.

Cited as one of the top “recession-proof” careers in America, education degrees are being pursued by 12.6 percent of the nontraditional population at UNT.

“I have an 8-year-old daughter, so it makes sense to have a schedule that would mimic hers,” Hinterscher said.

Between soccer games and volunteering at her daughter’s school, Hinterscher squeezes in time to study. But the hardest part for her hasn’t been time management, but getting back the “ability” to study.

Because it’s been years since she has used her brain the way students fresh out of high school have been trained to, she said, she sometimes struggles with figuring out what to study for tests.

Hinterscher sometimes feel a bit out of place, too, jokingly referring to herself as the “old lady with the red lunchbox.” But it doesn’t seem to faze her too much.

“Do people really talk to me? No,” Hinterscher said. “But I’m not here to socialize. I’m here to get an education.”

Hinterscher is currently pulling from savings to pay for school. She worries that tuition will eat up a lot of her family’s savings, so she is hoping to receive financial aid in the future.

Lacey Thompson, UNT’s assistant director for student financial aid and scholarships, said that a change in household income is a common reason nontraditional students return to school.

She advises students seeking federal financial aid to complete the Free Application for Federal Student Aid, and then contact the UNT financial aid office for more information on how to report changes in income.

Dorm life

Like Hinterscher, Plank also worries about money.

Being jobless and without insurance to cover her medical expenses, Plank knew that she needed to save every penny, so she took full advantage of the scholarship offered to her from UNT.

That meant living in a dormitory on campus.

Plank chuckled as she recounted the day she met her 21-year-old roommate.

“You should’ve seen the look on her face,” Plank said. “I could tell she was thinking, ‘Are you my roommate’s mother or my roommate?’”

Plank lives in Legends Hall, one of the newer residence halls on campus. While dorm life is challenging because Plank has had to give up having her own place, she said she finds it quite convenient.

After long, grueling days of class, Plank is happy to be so close to “home,” where she can immediately find respite and relief for her back, lying on her preferred place — the floor.

“My spine is so screwed up,” said Plank. “You do the best you can, but when your back is messed up, everything hurts.”

This is perhaps an understatement, in her case. On top of her spinal injuries, Plank has a broken leg.

“I hobbled around for three months before I knew it was broken,” she said.

Plank’s fibula had snapped, but because it is a non-weight-bearing bone, she managed to get by without treatment. But the bone requires surgery before it will fully heal, and lack of finances and medical insurance have kept Plank from receiving proper medical attention.

“I don’t have ten grand to throw at my leg. If I had ten grand, I would probably be living in an apartment,” she said.

So Plank spends most of her time alone, studying in her 10-by-10-foot dorm room, working toward her pre-pharmacy degree.

“I always wanted to go to medical school, but doctors told me my spine wouldn’t take it,” Plank said. Instead, she plans to become a clinical pharmacist, which will allow her to work one-on-one with doctors and patients in an office setting.

Alongside education, medical professions are also in high demand despite the down economy, so Plank feels security within this vocation.

Until then, six more years of schooling are in Plank’s future. And until financial relief comes her way, so is living in the dorms.