A Higher Degree of Determination

When Gladys Battle graduates from Cal Lutheran University today she may have more reason to celebrate than the typical student.

Her graduation day has been about 29 years in the making. Twenty-five spent coming up with the courage, time and money to return to college after dropping out of school. And the last four struggling to overcome problems ranging from passing a calculus course to convincing her welfare caseworker of the importance of a college education.

“My diploma will say ‘Gladys Dunn Battle,’ ” she quips. “Ain’t it the truth?”

In honor of her late father, Thomas Dunn, she asked that her maiden name be included on the long-sought-after piece of paper that she hopes will earn her increased respect, inspire her children and others, and most importantly, lead to higher-paying jobs.

At 48, Battle is one of a growing number of students at colleges nationwide who return to school after being away for years.

There are about 400 such students at Cal Lutheran alone. Out of this year’s 586-member graduating class, more than 100 are reentry students.

“Each story is different,” said Kathryn Sawnson, director of the school’s reentry program. “But we have a lot of single parents going back to school who were suddenly single for one reason or another who chose or needed to go back to school.”

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Battle moved from Los Angeles to Thousand Oaks to enroll in CLU in 1992 and spent two rocky years getting used to being a college student again.

When interviewed by The Times last year, she and her then 13-year-old son, Henry, had just been evicted from their apartment because she could not pay the $625 rent with her $496-a-month welfare check.

In addition to searching for another place to live, she was struggling to avoid academic probation and saw no end in sight.

Looking back, she says that was her lowest point--the only time that the stress of trying to raise her son on welfare while going to college brought her to tears.

“I was sitting on a bench crying and somebody came over to put their arm around me,” she said. “It was the only time I thought about stopping.”

But listening to Battle speak about leadership during a senior dinner last week , it’s difficult to imagine her ever being so depressed.

Days before graduation, she had already interviewed for a management position in Cal Lutheran’s human resources department--while keeping her eye on openings at several companies.

“Consider it a metamorphosis,” she told her fellow students. “Consider the caterpillar. It goes into its cocoon and doesn’t know if it will come out alive or not. There are times when we don’t know whether we will come out alive or not. Then we learn how to deal with change.”

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Gladys Battle said she knows change.

At 18, she graduated from Regina Caeli High School in Compton and went straight to Los Angeles City College. But she dropped out one year later in favor of a job at the U.S. Postal Service as a mail sorter.

Within a few years, Battle got married and then had a daughter, Crystal. At that point, she said, there was no going back to school. “I needed to be working.”

A divorce came soon after her child was born and led Battle to more than two decades of various secretarial jobs, a second marriage, a second child and a second divorce.

Battle, who saw her own daughter drop out of high school, realized that she had little chance of earning a higher salary in clerical positions without a degree, so she decided in her mid-40s to return to school.

But not without some prodding from a friend.

“Going back to school?” Battle asked her friend. “Forget it. I was 45 years old.”

Finally she relented and filled out an application to attend Cal Lutheran University.

Once admitted, there was no going back, Battle said.

For her, that meant quitting a $16,800-a-year job as a clerk at a Thousand Oaks insurance company to begin receiving Aid to Families with Dependent Children. Loans and scholarships of more than $50,000 have paid for her tuition and some books.

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“I saw no way to work and go to school and be there for my children,” she said of her decision to go on public assistance.

Taking night classes and continuing to work was not an option, according to Battle. “It would have taken me 20 years,” she said. “And I’d be 68 by that time. I had no time to fool around. I have to get a job and start saving for my son’s [college] education.”

Because Cal Lutheran did not provide Battle with housing, she had to rent a series of rooms in private homes for herself and her son.

Meanwhile, she struggled with some courses--particularly math--and excelled in others.

“It wasn’t like walking through the tulips,” she said. “My teachers didn’t say, ‘Gladys, you are having a hard time, so we are going to give you an A.’ Uh-uh, you got to do it like everyone else.”

But the investment has paid off. Battle said she plans to get off government assistance as soon as she finds a job--and start saving for her son’s college tuition.

“I expect to earn $60,000 one of these days,” she said. “That’s my goal.”

And she said, her success seems to have inspired her children.

“They might not have known the importance of an education,” she said. “And that [they] too can do it.”

Her eighth-grade son is planning to become an architect. Battle is still working on persuading her 23-year-old daughter, who is now raising four children as a single mother, to get a college education.

“She will eventually go back,” Battle said. “I don’t want her to wait until she is 40.”

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Walking around the campus last week, Battle met hardly a single person whom she did not remind of the upcoming graduation--or give a hug.

“We are getting to the end,” she told friend Jalane Scalfani. “Only eight more days.”

In her time at Cal Lutheran, Battle has made dozens of friends and earned a reputation for freely dispensing hugs and good advice.

“Many people worry about the little things,” said Stephen Seper, a junior. “She has a way of putting things in perspective, telling them it’s not the end of the world and they can move on.”

Friends said her constant refrain to those doubting whether they would ever see a degree, has been: “You can make it, honey.”

Still, even with a bachelor’s degree in communications in hand, Battle said her struggle isn’t over yet.

For starters, she has no automobile, and with tens of thousands of dollars in outstanding student loans, there’s little hope of buying one soon. But, like with most things, Battle said that won’t keep her from moving forward.

“I have made it this far,” she said. “I’m not going to let a car stop me from getting to work. Whatever it takes.”