Max Kim had this dream. He’d harbored it for all of his married life, but the timing never seemed right to pursue it. He and his wife, Bonnie, had kids to raise. A house to run. Jobs to hold. Then Max would look at a couple of old photos of his graduation from the University of Illinois, with he in his gown and Bonnie in her dress standing proudly at his side, and the dream would stir.
They had a good life. They’d both immigrated at a young age to America from South Korea and met at U of I in 1977 during Bonnie’s freshman year. Max, a couple of years older, was president of the Korean Undergraduate Student Association and one day Bonnie came to a meeting. It was one of those moments that last a lifetime.
“I fell,” Max said, “instantly in love.”
Max earned his degree in chemical engineering in 1979. They married and Bonnie withdrew from U of I to join him as he pursued his career. Eventually Max became a dentist, and Bonnie, bright and adaptable, worked a variety of jobs, including as a licensed Realtor, financial advisor, and insurance broker. They had three kids and six grandkids.
It always bothered Max, however, that Bonnie hadn’t earned her college degree. He felt responsible. Finally one day in December 2023 it was time for the dream to set sail. Max approached Bonnie with a twinkle in his eye. He knew that for Bonnie to agree he’d have to surprise her.
“Let’s go to Champaign,” Max said.
“Why?” Bonnie said. They lived in Chicago.
“Because that’s where we began,” Max said. “That’s our hometown.”
“But why?” Bonnie said.
“Come on,” he persisted. “Let’s just go.”
So they went, Bonnie bewildered, and Max, unbeknownst to her, carrying her old I-Card in his pocket. She didn’t even know that he still had it.
They arrived on campus and looked around a bit before Max brought Bonnie to Lincoln Hall. They went to the LAS Student Academic Affairs Office. At some point Bonnie realized what Max was trying to do: He wanted her to go back to school.
It took some digging in the archives but they found Bonnie’s old academic records. A senior academic advisor, Anna Chovanec, determined that, while they were past the spring semester re-enrollment deadline, the college could make an exception since she had left the university in good standing. If she agreed, Bonnie could start taking classes within a few weeks.
It wouldn’t be easy. Even with a packed schedule it would take Bonnie a year and a half to earn her degree. Max was right, however: Bonnie, with the opportunity suddenly before her, decided to come back to school.
They rented her a small apartment, and by last January Bonnie, then 65, was re-enrolled full time as an undergraduate. She signed up for five classes in communication and psychology—a heavy course load even if it hadn’t been more than four decades since she took a class at U of I.
The first day back was like a dream, and not a good one. Bonnie remembers walking on the Main Quad among waves of college students. They were younger than her children. They were almost as young as her grandchildren.
“I asked myself, ‘What am I doing here?’” Bonnie recalled. “It was like a time machine where I just came to a future world.”
She went to her first class. Bonnie didn’t take refuge in the back row, as one might have expected; she marched to the front and sat in the middle.
“I was scared to sit in the back because if I had a question, I was afraid that people were going to turn and look back at my face and I would be really embarrassed,” Bonnie said. “So every class I sat in the front row, in the middle. I had direct eye contact with the instructor.”
There was so much to learn. Aside from the subject material itself the classes relied on apps and online programs that Bonnie had never heard of. Her hand kept flying into the air. What’s Canvas? She asked. What’s Moodle?
Bonnie, however, possessed one skill that transcended time. She made friends as naturally as a tree makes leaves. As the spring semester progressed, Bonnie’s circle of support bloomed.
“Every time when I would walk in, I would say good morning to everyone,” Bonnie said. “Then I introduced myself to the people sitting around me. I would say, ‘Hey, my name is Bonnie. What’s your name?’ I would give each one of them compliments.”
Classmates turned into friends and study partners. This helped when, in a psychology class, she was assigned a PowerPoint presentation. Bonnie was terrified. She knew nothing about PowerPoint, so she went to the Paul M. Lisnek LAS Hub where undergraduate students can receive support. Steven Cox, the assistant director of student engagement, introduced her to a student, Elizabeth, who walked her through PowerPoint. A classmate in a communication class, Mateo, also caught wind that Bonnie was worried about her presentation.
“He said, ‘Bonnie, I am going to make sure that you get it,’” Bonnie recalled. “Everybody tried to help me.”
Her presentation grade came back, and Bonnie was overjoyed with the result.
“I was like jumping up and down with joy,” Bonnie said. “I was calling Max and my kids and shouting. I sent my project to them. Even my granddaughter called. She said, ‘Hahl-mo-nee’—that’s Korean for grandma—' I am so proud of you.’”
It seemed that everyone rallied behind her. Communication and psychology professors and instructors gave her time and encouragement, and Bonnie also remembers the names of many helpful students. Along with Mateo and Elizabeth, she said, Regan in her psychology classes and Caroline in her communication courses gave her support and kindness throughout the semester. One day one of Bonnie’s classmates from Italy stopped her.
“She said, ‘Bonnie! You are becoming internationally famous,’” Bonnie recalled. “I said, ‘Why is that?’ She said that her mom was so inspired by my story that she started talking to her relatives.”
Others said the same thing. It turns out that Bonnie had supporters she didn’t even know about, all over the world—in Italy, China, Africa, and elsewhere, the parents and grandparents of her classmates were cheering her on.
On the final day of the spring semester, everyone in one of Bonnie’s communication classes gathered at her request for a photo.
“I said, ‘By the way today is my birthday and it is the first time I have been away from my husband and my family and friends. I am spending my birthday alone on campus by myself,’” Bonnie recalled. “So they all sang happy birthday. I heard happy birthday from over 30 students and then we took the class picture.”
Bonnie’s return to campus has inspired many. Anna Chovanec, the advisor who readmitted Bonnie back in December, said that Bonnie is dedicated and hard-working, and that her instructors appreciate the point of view that she shares in the classroom.
“Bonnie is a one-of-a-kind person,” Chovanec said. “She has such a bright, gentle, and nurturing soul that has added so much positivity and joy into my day-to-day work. We check in quite often to make sure she is adapting to campus and managing her coursework, but also she checks in on my family and shares recipes for me as well.”
She added: “Bonnie is such a wonderful advocate for herself and utilizes all of the resources that LAS has to offer. It has been an absolute pleasure to help Bonnie and I will be her proud ‘surrogate mother’—that is what she calls me—when she walks across the stage to accept her diploma.”
One day last May, Max and Bonnie were on campus to wrap things up before Bonnie went back home for the summer. She would come back in August for the fall semester with ambitions to graduate in spring 2025. They sat on benches on the Main Quad.
“She is very famous now,” Max said, with a smile.
Bonnie did well in her classes, but she didn't want to dwell on what she'd accomplished. She still has a year to go, after all. "I want to stay humble," she said. Bonnie was touched, however, that others found her story inspiring. She talked of Mary Davis, the admissions and records officer who dug her class records out of the archives during that trip to Lincoln Hall back in December.
"Whenever Mary sees me," Bonnie said, "she says, 'Bonnie, you know what? Your story is a love story between your husband and you."
Max and Bonnie looked toward the spot where 45 years before they’d posed for Max’s graduation photo, near the Diana Fountain. Someday very soon, Max said, they would pose for another graduation photo. . Once again they would stand proudly side by side in the springtime, but this time Bonnie would be wearing the gown.
Editor's note: This story was originally published by the College of LAS.