my college essay

I walked quietly, almost self conciously to the seperate seating area marked ‘reserved for parents’. I had often felt as though all eyes were on me at these school functions, though none seemed quite as obvious. I was not even sixteen years old when I became her mother and I was not quite thirtyfour this over-cast June day while I sat alone, camera in hand, preparing to capture her high school graduation on both film and in memory .

It is true when they tell you that nothing prepares you for the torrent of emotion, mostly pride, when you sit watching the faces of the future and see your own little contribution in the bunch. I had raised her on my own for the majority of her years. I had been told that it was all but impossible by many family members and well intentioned professionals. I always knew that statistics were not on my side and from the beginning I set out to prove all of it wrong.

My daughter was seated in the third row from the left and the second seat from the front. She looked poised and hopeful as she and her classmates stood in unison for their march. Her beauty and strength seemed to be punctuated by the white cap and gown. I flashed back to the white blanket I first saw her in. She looked foreign and small yet over whelming in need and I knew that stepping up my game was the only option. As the first speech was delivered I recalled fifteen years earlier when I took the podium at my own graduation to deliver a speech as she sat in the front row. She was unaware of the weight of that occassion or the strength and perserverence required to get me there.

When her name was called and she walked across the stage to receive her diploma, I stood clapping with tears in my eyes and pride in my heart. They announced her plans to attend college in the fall while I snapped pictures and wiped away tears. As she took her seat again we waved to eachother and she held up her diploma just enough for me to see it from a distance. I knew then that it no longer mattered that she was born to a teenaged, single mother. Instead, from now on it would be to her credit. She had beaten the odds and jumped over the hurdles of my mistakes. The words of the nay-sayers and the professionals rang empty through my mind while fears of repeats and inadequacies fell off into the distance. I had not always gotten it right, but I was proud to prove that they hadn’t either.

Aspirations and the great thinkers

On November 7th I have an appointment with an enrollement officer at Saint Josephs college. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am so nervous. I am trying to not get my hopes up too high because if for some reason the financial aid isn’t available, then there is no way I can do it, but here are my thoughts on all of it.

I am 34 years old and have never been to college. I tell my kids all the time that that should be their goal and to stick it out because it is worth it in the end. Ive started lots of things, and had plenty of ideas to further myself, but without the education to back it up, I get stuck. I was in management with Hannaford for some time and made probably descent money, working my ass off and feeling under appreciated and felt like my skills were never completely utilized. I have this period of time to either do something to fix it and actually do something that will offer my children a better future, or I can just sit here and wait till I have to go back to work and find a job that pays just barely enough but leaves me feeling flat, again.

I have chosen philosophy, after a bit of back and forth. I hear sometimes of that being a useless degree, but I have decided to disagree. A useless degree would be one that doesn’t suit me. One that I wouldnt be passionate about, and after I read some of the class descriptions of several, I knew that was the one that held me captive, that I wanted to explore. I can choose between sociology, psychology and history as a minor as well, and that part I Am unsettled on.

I feel unsure of what I will want to do once I leave school, but I will deal with that later. One step at a time. I think I struggle with the idea of success. I feel like I am a person who watches other people succeed from the sidelines which is why any time i get close to it I tend to get affraid. While I was growing up no one ever told me that I could go to college. I always assumed that only certain people were able to attend and I wasnt one of them. I was very poor, and of course college is very expensive. I guess I wished someone had sat me down and completely explained life to me, the way I try to explain it to my kids. Only now I hope to have something to back that up.

I feel in a sense that this could be the beginning of hte end of the struggle. But mostly I am excited to see what I can learn through some of the greatest thinkers to ever live. I dont expect that I will ever be one of them, but I think “they” make a great deal of sense to me, and I have no option but to pursue it and see where it goes.

Encyclopedic Epiphonies

I was just given a book called the ‘Harvard encyclopedia of American ethnic groups’. It has every fact you could ever ask for concerning any ethnic group that entered America from the very beginning until 1980 when the book was put together.

I decided to start reading at the section concerning Education. Basically it is the story of how ethnicities affected the education system and how the education system has affected education. For someone like me, this is fascinating stuff. I didn’t come here to write down facts or numbers. I actually struggle with those things; dates, names, statistics. All the things that would be required of a doctor or an accountant, neither of which I will ever be, and for good reason. I felt driven to share my ideas of the education system in relation to this topic. I think it is an important discussion to have and I think its one people need to be more willing to take part in.

I was not raised in a racist home. I certainly knew racist influences though, and I am positive they followed me into the classroom in my early years. I was born in 1975 in Portland Maine, so truthfully my experineces would be completely different from a person born the same year in a larger city or in the south etc. But Maine is most definetely not without its racial conflicts, they just aren’t probably as pronounced. In 1980 the public school system nation wide opened up a curiculum designed to teach school aged children acceptance of other races and religions. I was entering kindergarten at that time, I dont recall even once praying in school and I only had to read about segregation in a text book. I cant even pinpoint any actual class designed to teach us about racial differences etc. but I do remember learning it. I remember feeling uncomfortable at family gatherings when race would become a topic and slurs would be joked about and an air of hatred seemed to loom when it came to other colours or cultures. And I also remember feeling oddly comfortable with the concepts taught in the classroom in dirrect opposition to those beliefs. I think it was confusing at that time also. We were being taught that our parents or family members were wrong, when we had been led to believe that they were always right.

By the time my oldest daughter entered school they were no longer teaching, in effect, against what their family believed but more so in connection to what their family did believe. The teaching continued though because truthfully, we will always have a long way to go. They were no longer teaching Im ok your ok but were then teaching the different beliefs and cultures of different cultures and their backgrounds…which did include English, by the way. Because of the age differences in my children I am able to see a change yet again…they arent actually “teaching” at all. It’s just known, and any child that goes in with an attitude of unacceptance is directly redirected in his/her thinking…this is the direct opposite of what the American school system was intended to do in it’s beginning.

Early on it was designed to seperate, not just white from black but German, Jew, Catholic (it was a protestant system, and that was the expected way of life. To be American was to be Protestant) etc. They taught white children that they were better and taught the others that it was really too bad for them. They took their cultures away from them. They sterilized and westernized the feeling and beauty and truth out of every culture and told them that to be an American meant to be like everyone else. They embarrassed them and lied about them and told our ancestors that they should consider themselves lucky to not have to be one of “them”, even though ‘they’ had been here just as long as their caucasian children.  That was a sad time in American educational history though, and thankfully one that is, I believe, quickly fading.

Last year one of my younger daughters, Caroline,  was invited to a birthday party for a classmate. I called ahead and let the birthday girls family know that she would be attending. I asked Caroline what the little girl was like and what she would maybe want for a gift. Caroline told me she was a nice girl who really liked Hannah Montanna (don’t they all, haha). On the day of the party Caroline was chatting away about her little friend and so I was excited to meet her and her mom, but the one thing Caroline never once mentioned was that the little girl was not white. I was floored…and proud. And then it hit me, this was the point. This was the result the Harvard encyclopedia of American ethnicities said was “pending” back in 1980…but it was certainly the result they had hoped for. For Caroline, her friends skin colour never came up because there is no need. She is different, but she doesnt see that as being “wrong”, and because I had been taught that as well, she had never come home to racial bashing or intollerence to confuse her and make her affraid. I am not saying that the system is all right or is perfect. Bu tI just wanted to share that for at least some people, those lessons were not taught in vain.

Bullies are people too…

Bullies are everywhere. We find them in pre-schools, elementary schools, especially in middle school and high school and then we go to work thinking we’ve escaped…but nope, they’re there too. A bully is, as most of us know, a person who likes to pick on others to any extreme. They will call names, bloody noses, steal milk money, pull hair and any other variety of things intended to make a person feel inferior, affraid and embarrassed.

This is on my mind because my eight year old daughter, Caroline, came home from school last week with some stories about a girl named Savannah. Apparently Savannah chose to pick on Caroline by stealing her package of pretzels off her desk and laugh about it while eating them in front of her which seemed to mortify Caroline because when your a “nice kid” you get confused when you finally meet one of these people for the first time and their focus seems to be on you. Don’t get me wrong, all of my kids will do anything and everything to antagonize each other at any possible moment. But to meet someone willing to do it to someone that isnt their sibling is scary.

I grew up with just the one sister, she was older than me and took any available opportunity to remind me of that fact. I would never call her a bully, though she did seem to enjoy ‘getting me’ and some minor torture was most likely inflicted, but those are all fleeting memories now in the face of our relationship being strong and steady. Plus she’s apologized about a hundred times. I was fine with it after the first apology, but I allowed her to continue with the grovelling. It was nice to finally have some leverage.

I was never really a focus of bullies, if anything I was ignored. Thinking back on it I would prefer it that way, it’s better than worrying about going around corners or protecting your lunch box. Of course, there was this one little girl in kindergarten, I think her name was Mindy, and she made fun of a pig I colored because I did it in black and experimented with my coloring in circles technique so it just looked like a black curly-haired pig. I know…I laugh now too, but in kindergarten? Come on, creativity should have been sacred. If Sheri had found out about Mindy, well…lets just say I would have felt bad for the sufferage Mindy would have faced because seriously, my sister is little, but you really just don’t mess with her.

The first thing I did when I heard about Savannah was ask questions. I will speak out right now and admit that mom’s almost always automatically assume that if our kids getting picked on, it must be by a pudgy homely kid who is jealous of our beautiful child. Which not only may be true, but  is also the same thing we will continue to tell ourselves when faced with inter-office gossip. I had a talk with Caroline about not letting her just walk on her because that would just make Savannah more powerful. I told her about me being picked on and how I know it’s upsetting but that it really would pass and that I would send a note for the teacher. Then I told Jacob, my 11 year old son, to be on the look out should his sister need him to interveign. Yes, I know it wasn’t THAT bad yet, but Jacob is a protective kind of guy, meaning only HE can pick on his sisters.

I thought about this situation through the night. I was bothered to say the least and just felt like there was something I was missing…and then it hit me. As Caroline got ready for school the next morning I brought her the snack bag and told her that today, there is an extra pack of pretzels in there for her to give to Savannah. She wasnt to wait till Savannah stole hers, but when it was snack time she was to get it out and give it to her and say, in front of others, that she knows she likes them so she wanted her to have some that day. That afternoon Caroline came home with a picture in her bag from Savannah. She told me that when she gave her the pretzels they sat together and talked. Of course, she also told me that she isn’t ready to really like her yet, but she would work on it. See, I had told her that bullies are only mean because they need someone to be nice to them. And this all translates into adult hood with the saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’…and if your lucky enough to have at least one…introduce your older brother/sister to your class mates.

My redeeming carrot cake

I am not a women who has ever really enjoyed cooking. Though on occassion I do enjoy getting into a recipee book and trying something new, and I also like pot roasts and things you can do quick like that. I actually really like Italian food, whihc is probably where my desire to go to Italy someday comes from. But I do wonder if maybe the food in Italy will be different from the kind I grab out of the freezer section to douse with a can of sauce and some cheese. For all I know I wouldnt like it at all, but still, I want to go and give it a shot. I don’t usually bake, but what made me think to write was the fact that I just had the first piece of a yummy carrot cake I just made, and it was so yummy. Dunkin hines is one of my good friends, him and Betty Crocker. We have been through a lot together what with the burnt cakes and the undercooked brownies, they have seen me at my worst and still come back to let me try again.

I dont sew very often, but when I do I am usually pretty proud of my creations. Way back in the seventh grade I made a craft bag, that undoubtedly never got used, and an apron, also unused. I made a pair of curains for a house I used to live in. I say I made them but basically I just cut the pieces to the length and width I needed and hand stitch sloppily the bottom hem and the rod pocket. Im not even certain that I hemmed up the sides and may have just left the edges freyed but I don’t think anyone ever noticed. Of course, knowing me I pointed it to anyone who asked anyway.

I have made more than one halloween costume as well. I did a pretty good job with Ashleys Dorothy costume in the 4th or 5th grade, meaning it didnt fall apart and I think she had it for dress up for quite a long time. I made Jacob an adorable tigger costume when he was one and a half as well. Now that one was really cute, and he got more ooh and aahs for that than I would have expected. Of course, this year and for the most part, I go to the store to buy them the costume of their choosing (provided there are any left because I tend to wait till Oct. 28th) which saves me the time and hassle.

I remember one year I helped Shelby make some special Valentines cards for her pre-school class. They were butterflies with felt wings and candy stick bodies. we used pipe cleaners around the edges to hold the wings up and wrote ‘Happy Valentines day’ on the wings in marker. I am pretty sure thats my most creative valentines project to date. Refer to paragraph one to answer the ‘how about Valentines cupcakes?’ question.

I write all this, not as an apology or admitance of any failings on my part. The fact is I would be useless had I been born back in the 18th century, but at least I can admit it. I write it to offer a safe haven to all the other moms out there without the green thumbs or the nack for cooking or sewing or doing great projects that wow the class room on any given holiday. We COULD do it, thats just the thing, but we don’t enjoy it and it tends to leave us feeling frustrated with ourselves for not being as crafty as the next mom. Television used to be filled with moms who started at sun up with the food and the projects and went to bed darning socks and sewing patches. Thank God for Roaseanne Bar for helping to lower the standard enough for the rest of us to accept our lots in life. OF course, I do have my redeeming qualities. I can read, speak clearly, be bossy, be studius, do six things at once and I am pretty. Look…we all have to have something. And then there is this carrot cake. My kids will hate it, because it has vegetables and raisins in it, but they will love it because their mom made it, and what else matters anyway?

Man training

My son, Jacob, is 11 and just recently became a boy-scout. Well, a webelo actually, apparently he will be a full fledged boy scout come February, but I wont pretend to understand the politics involved in the organization. As it is, I am a fish out of water as soon as I walk into the club house and I have now organized a coffee group for other moms who arent interested in sitting through an entire meeting of testosterone training.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Firstly you should know that I am truely against guns. Now dont get me wrong, I think some people can and should have guns, but honestly, to just pass it out like candy on a street corner seems irrational and just about as risky. Who are these people? And really, it turns out that I know people with these concealled weapons permits and I have to say, now I wonder if its possible that everyone I see walking down the street might be packing heat on their belt loops. I know my views make me unpopular amongs the NRA crowd, but Im just saying, I dont want anything to do with it. And much to my amazement…the boyscouts are gun enthusiasts. People seem ot hink Ive been living under a rock for not knowing this, but this is where the television comes in. How many times did you see June Cleaver hand Beaver a gun on his way to a pack meeting? I am sure some people would have loved to see it though, haha. So at last nights meeting, which was Jacobs third, they mentioned the boys bringing their b-b guns next week. I took the leader aside after and mentioned my gun aversion (he now thinks I am crazy and should have stuck to lattes) but also added that I believe JAcob should learn how to respect a firearm, but I was concerend because I would never buy him a gun so he would never have one to bring to a meeting. He said, quite seriously too, “Oh thats ok, we have plenty of them around here”. I thanked him, of course he found it funny, and then turned to another mom and asked when in the hell would they be teaching him how to tie a knot because that is what I thought I was signing him up for. It was clearly time for me to leave since the place suddenly felt like a slaughter house, and I was picturing my cute little boy scout out in the woods shooting squirrles and bringing them there to be taught how to skin and dress it.

This weekend is his first camp-out, a jamboree I guess they call it. We live in Maine, the temps drop to around 30 degrees at night this time of year, he’s probably going to hate me by the time he gets back. But whats the ONE reason the boy is excited to go? You guessed it…he gets to shoot a damn gun! And a bow and arrow! They gave me the packing list and all the instructions for the weekend. All the dad’s standing around feeling all proud of their boys up-coming “man training” and theres me…single mother of only one boy and 5 daughters…who finally says “I suppose matching outfits aren’t necessary”. You know that crickett sound in the cartoons? LMAO! I was picturing colour coordinated flannels and fun prints on his long johns, lol!

It really is going ot be fun though, helping him learn stuff so he can earn badges (I wonder if they have a latte badge?) and encouraging him to try these new things, regardless of my beliefes because honestly, that is the most important thing to me as a parent. Strong independent children who can think for themselves, not just mimic what their parents believe. I can say this though, my son walked over to me as we stood in the circle talking about scout stuff, he stood in front of me, and when I rested my hand on his shoulder, he didnt brush it off like most boys would at his age. He reached up and held my hand on his shoulder to clearly and silently state to all his buds “Hey, this is my Mom and I love her”. I have so many reasons to be extremely proud…now lets all hope the boy doesn’t shoot his eye out.

Hello world!

Finally…a platform! A place to write and feel heard! Hopefully a place to offer some advice from a seasoned mom, and really, feel free to ask! I am a 34 year old single mom of 6 children, with five still living at home. My oldest daughter is Ashley. She is 18 and attending college currently for a degree in early childhood education. Shelby is 16 and is a junior in high school. Jacob is 11, he is in the fifth grade. Caroline is 8 (going on 25) and is a third grader. Abigail is 6 and she just re-entered kindergarten this fall, and baby Anastasia is just 8 months old and will probably rule the world one day…well, at least rule Broadway as I have assumed a future in theater for her. Every one of them is so unique and delightful. The adventures and silliness is almost never ending, though some days its a bit harder to see it through the drudgery of maintianing a household of so many on my own. Let me know if there are any questions I might be able to answer for you, I can almost guarantee that if you can imagine the situation, I have experienced it. And check back often, kids grow fast!