I’m pretty forthcoming with the details of my
life. I share openly. Some might say I overshare and that’s okay. I’ve been quite proud of the life Jason and I
have shared since we married so what’s to hide?
However there is one grim, little detail that has haunted me for many
years. It’s been my dark, dirty little secret
that I’ve done my best to dismiss. If I
never acknowledged it, I was certain I could make it go away. It’s not something I’m proud of or like to
talk about. As much as this hurts, I’m
going to just rip off the band-aid… So
here it is: I never received my high
school diploma. There, I’ve said
it. Now that you know, I’d like to first
tell you how it came to be and why it came to feel like a huge, embarrassing mountain
I was sure I would struggle to move. As
of yesterday, I received notice that I’ve finally rectified that situation, but
let’s start at the beginning…
My grades from k-9th weren’t great. I did not excel in school throughout any of
that time and I can honestly say it’s not because I lacked the ability. I just really, really lacked interest. It was a total case of pure apathy. I didn’t care nor did I try but I got decent
enough grades to get by. I only cared
enough to pass, as to not be left behind by my class – embarrassing, much? Teachers, who had my brother prior to me,
were not my biggest fans. Ryan was a
G.T. student who exceeded expectations.
I guess they figured I would follow suit. I did not.
Once they saw my very blasé attitude about school, I could see the disappointment
wash over them and then they would pretty much leave me for dead. I don’t blame them. I was useless and I wholeheartedly admit that. I went to Flippin, AR elementary k-6 and then
moved to Conway, AR for 2 years for mom to finish up college. I was very happy in Conway. We were poor as church mice but I didn’t
care. It was an entirely different
experience and I started to participate in school activities. Pep squad, etc. My last name meant nothing there. No one knew who I was so I could be anybody I
wanted to be and I came alive. I formed
strong friendships that still exist to this day. I was happy there. After those 2 years, mom finished school and
graduated with honors. I guess I should
have seen mom going back and striving for her dreams as motivation and used it
as an example to apply myself now so that I don’t have to backtrack later in
life. But alas, I cared not.
After those 2 years, we moved back to Flippin. No offense to my fellow Flippin Highers, who
may read this, but I wanted to die. I
will never forget how I felt on that first day back. Same familiar people… Same smells, same HALL, same tug in the pit
of my gut. I was never happy there. I’ll avoid getting into why, but I’ll just
use a few buzz words like, ‘politics’ and ‘favoritism’ and move on. Yes I was miserable and my grades took an
even further nose-dive than even I thought possible. English was always my strongest subject and I
could hold my own in most of the other subjects – all subjects, OTHER than
math. I went straight into Algebra 1. Dr. Hurst might as well have been speaking Farsi
for all the sense it made to me. It didn’t
help that while he was speaking in a monotone I just couldn’t tune into, I was
off thinking about other things. While
his markers were squeaking and there was talk of simplifying fractions, I was
in my own head. I was thinking about
boys, clothes, music and plotting the confrontation between me and my closest
frenemy in 3rd period. Man… What a bitch.
(Sorry had to get that one in there.)
I’m back now… That year was
brutal. I was adjusting to being back at
that school and I had begun dating. I
proceeded to get into the most highly volatile relationship of my life that
year. It was everything. It was love, it was hate, and it consumed me
and everyone around me. Whoever thinks
you can’t have real feelings at 14 is inaccurate. The relationship became so out-of-control
that my family had to step in. Hell, the
local police had to step in. It was all
I thought about. It was all I cared
about. It became the stereotypical pull
for male affection from the broken little girl with daddy issues. If we were in a good place and he loved me,
life was right. If it felt like he didn’t
want me that week, I was destroyed. It
was a constant game of push and pull and I became a willing participant. There was no room for anything else. In summation, I was an absolute fool. The relationship ended by forces intervening;
those forces being my mother and most of my family. The damage however, had been done. Needless to say, throughout all this, school
was my very last concern. I flunked a
semester of Algebra as a result. I gave
no thought to my future whatsoever. My
only concern at that time was the here and now, my friends, my boyfriend, and
my wardrobe. I wish I had woken up and
realized the here and now will later affect me then and there.
So the relationship ended and I get put in applied
math. I no longer had the distraction
and my grades began to rise. In fact, I
went on to get A’s in math for the remainder of high school. During this time I met Jason, who always did
well in school. He had a bright future
ahead of him and I didn’t want to be the flunky girlfriend dragging him
down. I didn’t want to disappoint him
and bad grades did. He cared, would ask
about my grades and he did scold me if they weren’t up to par. I don’t think anyone realizes the profound
affect Jason had on me. When we got
together, I went on to make honor roll in everything except gym. Yes, gym.
(I’m not going to explain myself on that…)
By the end of senior year I knew Jason and I were
getting married just weeks after graduation.
I had already mentally checked out of school and Flippin, AR. But then it was brought to my attention a few
weeks before graduation that I still lacked a half a credit from the semester
of Algebra 1 I failed. They ordered a
correspondence course for me to try to make it up in time for graduation. I don’t even know what to tell you about this
part. I tried to take those tests but I
failed them – point blank. My mom was
convinced they had ordered a college algebra course but she may have just said
that to make me feel better. I suffer
from pretty severe test anxiety and if I can’t solve something right off the
bat my pulse races, my face flushes, I panic and things I know I KNOW just
leave me. All rational steps to solve a
problem literally just vacate my head and I become a panic stricken mess. I had made A’s in all my math classes but
something happened here… It was the
pressure of this, do or die moment. I
flunked those tests and I received the call days before graduation that I would
not walk.
I managed to somehow convince myself this was a
minor fork in the road to be taken care of at a later date. No big deal, right? After all, I had a wedding to plan! The wedding came and went and I honestly got
pregnant immediately. Married May 16,
1998 and Drew was born February 15, 1999.
We became a family almost instantly.
I stayed home with Drew and just focused on being a wife and mother for
a long time. No need for a diploma to do
that! After we moved to Dallas and Drew
was a little older I decided I wanted to go to work. I was intimidated by the area at first but I
knew if I was ever going to get established here I would have to get out there
and meet people. I wasn’t qualified for
much. Up to that point I had worked at
fast food chains and a little retail. I
started as a cocktail waitress at a seedy dive bar and later went on to
bartend. I eventually began waiting
tables in fine dining establishments. I
can dish vichyssoise with the best of ‘em.
I made pretty decent money so I had managed to still be unscathed by the
lack of a high school diploma. I was
still a server when I got pregnant with Lily.
I worked up until about a month before she was born. After I had Lily, Jason and I agreed it was
actually more cost effective for us if I stayed home. The cost of childcare is outrageous and since
I was never going to make what Jason did, I would almost just be working to
afford the daycare. I believe this is
called redundancy. I stayed home and not
long after discovered Reid was on the way; all the more reason to continue
staying home. For the past 8 years I
have put my heart and soul into this family.
I have been “Suzie Homemaker” and tried to give them a home-life they’ll
always look back and feel good about. I
have been there for everything; every milestone, every school program, every
sneeze, every step. They can never look
back and say I wasn’t there. I have been
and I have wanted to be. I needed that
time and I’ve been blessed to be able to have it. However, I knew there would come a time when
all the kids would be in school and I needed to regain some sense of
myself. There would be a time when I
would need to go out there and find out who I am outside of this house. I knew I didn’t want to go back to bartending
or waiting tables. I’ve worked with older
people in the past, who have waited tables their entire lives and they weren’t
what I would describe as content in life.
That field does something to you and it makes you an expert on human
nature and not in a good way. I have
always felt that every person should have to work a stint in the public service
industry and they would be forever changed and would eternally treat strangers
differently. So I knew I could veto that
but what’s left? Nothing I want to do, I’m
qualified to do. I’m not even qualified
to go to any type of trade school or college yet. Houston, we have a problem…
The knowledge that I would always have to get my GED
in order to move on with my life was always there. It was always looming in the back of my
mind. As the years passed, with them grew
the shame of not having it and the self-assurance that I hadn’t retained any
knowledge from school for which to pass the test. I would express my concern to those close to
me, who knew my secret, and they would tell me I was being foolish and I was
one of the smartest people they know.
But they didn’t know what it felt like inside me when test anxiety set
in. I am my own worst enemy and once
that feeling sets in, I shut down and it’s just a downward spiral from
there. The more time passed, the larger
I allowed this test to get in my head. It
had become my own personal shit demon. I
had managed to make it 15 years with no one being any the wiser. I had fooled them all. No one knew I was an undercover failure. Jason’s success had been all the mask I needed
but my time ran out. I couldn’t hide
forever, but believe me I put it off for as long as possible.
I went to lunch with Jennifer one day feeling
incredibly low about myself. I had a meltdown
of sorts and spilled my guts over nachos about the changes I need to make and
how I’m mostly just a big chicken shit. After
lunch, we went directly to Barnes and Noble where I bought a GED prep
book. I came home and began
studying. I went through each section
with ease and thought, “Wow, this is going to be a piece of cake”. I intentionally saved the math for last. Math is my arch nemesis, or so I’ve told
myself. I went through each section of
the math portion carefully. I was
impressed with some information that had stuck around and some that hadn’t. I went through periods of feeling confident
and some periods of slinging my book across the room and ranting about
isosceles triangles and bullshit knowledge I’ve made it 15 years and never
used. I had a particularly bad episode
one day and had a screaming fit. I
realized later our windows were open and our neighbors were outside. Great, now I was without a diploma AND the
trashy neighbor. Not being trashy was
the only thing I had to cancel out the first part and allow me to have some semblance
of dignity. I took practice tests and
retested practice tests but could never convince myself I was ready. Even after I felt like I’d brushed up on each
subject enough I became consumed with the humiliation of actually having to go
in and take the test. I pictured sitting
at a desk again. I tried to picture who
I would be among. I wondered what the
teacher would think of me. Would she
look down on me? Would she think I was
pathetic? I had the dates of when the
tests were given. I let two pass me by
out of fear. I’m impulsive so one day I
just made the call. I needed to get some
information on testing procedure, etc. A
woman answered the phone and I managed to get out, “I need to register to take
the GED test”. She began giving me
details; so far so good. At the end of
the conversation I wanted to go over that I had everything I needed and began
listing what was on the website. She
stopped me and began speaking very slowly.
“Yooou wiiiiill neeeed a vaaaaaalid TEXAS I.D. and YOUR sooooocial
seeeeecurrritttty caaaaard”. In that
moment it became everything I feared.
She was speaking to me as though I was slow and I it felt just like I thought
it would. I literally hung up and said, “Great. She thinks I’m uneducated trash.” Granted, this was via phone so she probably
thought I was an 18 year old burnout forced into taking the test as stipulated
by my parole. Usually this is the point
when the humiliation takes over and I decide to bailout, but not this
time. I’ve run long enough. If this is what I have to endure for a short
while for a lifetime benefit then so be it.
I had to go to the school the next day to register
and I’m going to be brutally honest when I tell you I looked as nice as
possible so the woman would know I wasn’t trash and treat me with any kind of
respect. I filled out my forms, paid my
money and by the end she was calling me ‘ma’am’. I went home to wait. I was there to take my test at 7:00 A.M.
sharp. I was the 1st one
there and at one point a car pulls up.
It was a parent dropping off a kid and they rolled down their window to
ask me if I was the one administering the test.
I wanted the earth and steps I was sitting on to open up and swallow me
whole. I simply said, “I’m not giving
the test but this is where he needs to be”.
The first few arrivals where pretty much what I expected -- juvenile
delinquents huddled in a group talking about their probation officers with rampant
‘f’ bombs. I had the pleasure of
smelling their smoke stack aroma every time the wind picked up and wafted it
over my direction. I thought to myself, “God,
I’m the only old person here.” Then I
look over at the baseball field and lodged in the wire fence were cups that
spelled out “FHS” – (Frisco High School).
Oh, the effing irony….
As I sat waiting for those doors to open, I began questioning
how in the hell I got here when a few adults began showing up. They looked no different than me. They didn’t have shirts on that said “failure”. I wondered about what their stories were and
how they came to be here just like me. Everyone
has their story. Its funny how we all migrated
to groups of our likeness; old with the old, kids with the kids. I noticed the instructor treated us adults
differently but through those 2 days, I realized why. If those kids are our future, we should all
be in a state of panic. Those were the
most disrespectful, whiniest, sleepiest kids I’ve ever seen. They whined about everything from the temperature
of the room to needing a cigarette. They
couldn’t or wouldn’t follow basic instructions and almost had to be spoken to
like 3rd graders. That phone
call I had to make came to mind and I immediately decided to dismiss it as her
knee jerk reaction to what she typically experiences. You couldn’t pay me enough money to be a
teacher. I wanted to beat the kid next
to me on the teacher’s behalf. All I
could think was, “I’m old enough to be your mother you little twerp, which
means I’m just the person to put my foot in your ass”. The kid who sat behind me I nicknamed “Spicoli”. He was very reminiscent of “Fast Times at
Ridgemont High”. He either had a serious
case of narcolepsy or was just
legitimately the most tired kid alive, (or kind of alive…) He would finish his tests impossibly fast and
then snore at his desk in an otherwise quiet room to the point I almost flung a
#2 pencil at his head on several occasions.
The test began and first up was math. The very first question stumped me. The panic began. I could feel the heat in my face, parts of my
body went numb and my lips began to vibrate.
I had to take a few minutes to talk myself off a ledge. I could feel myself scrambling and second
guessing every single answer. Some of
the questions were nothing I reviewed. I
suddenly couldn’t remember how to find the slope of a line or much of anything
else. I did my best to calm down and
tried to rationally answer each question.
Before I knew it, time was up. That
was it. I just knew I had failed day
one, test one. I had English up after
that. English isn’t a problem. In fact all the following subjects the next
day, I knew I passed with flying colors.
That math portion, though... I really
didn’t feel good about it. I had a
feeling, I failed it. There was nothing
to do now but wait. The results could
take up to 6 weeks to come in. I had
never planned for this. I was hoping to
enroll at Paul Mitchell by mid-October but my results wouldn’t be back in time,
especially if I had to retest the math portion.
Not a big deal, just a bump in the road.
I’d resigned myself to the fact that I would take it until I passed
it. I would get this done one way or
another. Classes at Paul Mitchell start
every six weeks so it will happen soon, just maybe not this month.
Yesterday I checked the mail expecting nothing other
than bills. I pulled out an envelope
from the Texas Education Center. My
heart sank. I sat it on the counter for
a few minutes while I paced and chewed my face.
Finally, I ripped it open. It was
my certificate. I passed. I gasped and teared up. Something that had been 15 years in the
making had just been laid to rest. It
felt like a cinder block had been taken off my shoulders. Drew was standing in the kitchen and wanted
to know what all the fuss was about. My
initial reaction was to hide it from him.
I didn’t want him to know I had first, never graduated and second, that
I was just doing something about it. But
then I thought better of it. I decided
to use this to show him how the choices he makes now can absolutely affect him
later in life. I told him my story and
that I’m 33 and had to backtrack 15 years to move forward. “Don’t be me and care about your future”. He hugged me, told me he was proud of me and
I believe he is. To be honest, I’m proud
of me. He and his brother and sister are
the biggest reasons I did this.
So that’s the tale…
My tale of failure, my tale of triumph and my tale of the beautiful life
that happened in between. My tale will
continue but it’s going to be a whole new world from here on out. I leaped a hurdle and it feels
fantastic. I feel like I can do
anything, even math. I did this for me,
I did this for my kids and I did this for the weak girl who lives inside me who
tells me I can’t. I’m really sick of her
and I hope this finally shuts her up.
