(BALTIMORE – May 17, 2026) – One year ago, I was preparing to walk across the stage at Morgan State University for a Master’s degree I had started in 1996.
Think about that for a second.
Nearly three decades after beginning the journey, I was finally about to finish.
Morgan has a program called Morgan Completes You. Dr. Helen Harrison introduced me to it. Dr. Carla Jackson welcomed me with open arms. Dr. Sims, Dr. Bradley, Dr. Metaferia, Dr. Westrick, Kecia — and even the president himself, Dr. David Wilson — poured into me until I crossed the finish line.
And I was about to turn 60.
I still remember the excitement of “finally.” I remember asking questions about everything connected to graduation — all the way down to the gown I had to buy. Honestly, that whole graduation gown business feels like a hustle we need to get some Big Mamas together to investigate. Way too much money for a thin piece of fabric. But I digress.
The real question was: what’s next?
That part weighed on me more than people knew.
At that age, after that accomplishment, I felt like I should already know my next move. But I didn’t. I just knew whatever came next had to make sense — not just emotionally, but strategically. It had to sharpen my strengths and help me build a stronger foundation for BMORENews.com long after I am gone.
That has always been the mission.
Not fame. Not ego. Legacy.
And let me be clear: BMORENews did not get here on my back alone. I have been blessed to work alongside some of the best journalists, photographers, videographers, thinkers, and creators anywhere in the world — many of them right here in Baltimore.
So yes, I applied to both law school and business school.
And you already know which one I chose.
Truthfully, the hardest part about not choosing law school is wondering whether I still should one day. Maybe that chapter is still ahead of me.
But for now, I can honestly say I am having the time of my life at the Robert H. Smith School of Business at the University of Maryland.
In earlier columns, I wrote about the school’s history — including how Parren J. Mitchell sued the institution in 1950 after being denied admission because he was Black.
Seventy-five years later, that same school admitted me.
I do not take that lightly.
I know I stand on broad shoulders. I know sacrifices were made by people I will never meet so opportunities like this could even exist. And I also know God has a way of blessing people who are willing to confront life’s challenges head-on.
Ironically, it was a chair at another business school in another state who first recommended the Smith School to me. I followed up, did my homework, and the decision changed my life.
What makes the experience special is not just the coursework. It’s the people.
Every week, I sit in rooms with brilliant minds from different industries, backgrounds, and walks of life. Every person belongs there. You can feel it. We challenge one another. We push one another. Respectfully. Thoughtfully. Constantly.
It is easily the most intellectually stimulating academic experience of my life.
And somehow, it arrived exactly when it was supposed to.
So if you are thinking about going back to school, let me save you some time:
Go finish your degree.
Seriously — what are you waiting for?
What excuse are we using this time?
I’ve heard most of them already.
But I have also seen what determination looks like.
I remember a young woman from Kenya named Patricia Njenga back in 1993. She was only 20 years old, raising her two younger sisters while carrying an average 22-credit course load. She was also a fellow Ronald E. McNair scholar, just like me. She graduated with honors and never once carried herself with entitlement.
I watched greatness up close.
And I will never forget Ms. Regina, a 75-year-old woman I met at Coppin State University who returned to the classroom simply because she refused to quit on herself.
People like that stay with you.
They remind you that purpose does not expire.
So yes, at nearly 60, I went back to school again.
And if I can do it, so can you.
Especially if you’re 60 like me.
What else you got to do?
