When I was 11 years old, going on 12, I was still the baby of the family. And everyone in my family will tell you I acted like it. Tantrems were irregular but they still happened. All of my older siblings had moved out about this time... God had some great plot to put them all together, about 1.5-2 years apart from each other, a big 8 year gap, and then I come along.
Mom says when I was really little it was great. I barely had to squawk and my needs OR wants were met. The older kids helped out while she finished school (she had only just decided to go back to school before she found out I was on the way). I was always going somewhere, doing something with them, until one by one, they left home.
Now, I was alone and bored without anyone to entertain me...
So of course the next logical thing is to ask to adopt a brother or sister... And Mom and Dad liked the idea! Of course, I don't think any of us knew what we were getting into.
When we first met Heather, she was a cute looking kid and she charmed my parents almost immediately. Heather had been placed in a children's home in central Florida after a sad history. She was born to a negligent mother, abused by multiple men and finally abandoned when she was 4 years old. That's not the end. She was placed in foster care and was ultimately rejected by 6 families before going to live at the children's home (which is a nice term for orphanage.) The Children's home was nice on sight, any kids dream! They had little houses set up around a HUGE playground, a cafeteria will all the sugar to make one sick, and there seemed to be a circus there EVERY weekend! We learned later that many of the hired staff were careless in their own ways, watching R rated movies with the kids, among other things.
So, I was 12, Heather was 9. We were 3 years apart. And at first I was jealous. She seemed to have the life and now my parents were paying attention to her... But that changed. Heather started to do things. Snatching stuff from me, hitting, things that siblings do of course, but she was SO good at doing it when Mom and Dad weren't looking. So, when I told them what she was doing, they thought I was still being a spoiled "baby-of-the-family."
This continued for many months. There were still good times, Heather and I could play together and have a good time. The state had a general rule though that after you have gotten to know a child for 6 months it's time to make a decision. Adopt or move on. For 6 months my parent had seen Heather be an angel. I had seen her other side. When Mom approached me about adopting Heather I said I just wanted my room to be MY room and she was not allowed in without permission. Mom still seemed to think this had to do with selfishness but she consented.
Adoption day came and we all stood before a Judge. The Judge asked each of us individually if we wanted to go through with the adoption, including me. "What if I said no?" I asked. "Then we will talk a little more to see if this really is the right thing" He answered. At the time I was surprised that my opinion might matter enough to call the whole thing off... I hesitated to answer. Could I say "no." Could I deny Heather the chance to have a family, a home? What about me?
"Do you think your parents will keep you safe?"
How did he know to ask that? Would they? I know my parents loved me, and that if it went that far...
"Yes, they will" I said, with more confidence than I really felt.
I felt like someone had brought it to their attention that they would need to keep me safe, someone besides me that knew Heather had another side.
And after a few signatures, it was official.
And the "HONEYMOON" was over.
My parents took us out to celebrate at Dairy Queen as a surprise. This was a huge treat to me, we hardly EVER did that! The only reason my parents COULD take us there is because Mom had clipped some GREAT coupons. We arrived and Mom asked Heather what she would want... Heather looked out the window and pointed across the street. "I want pizza." My chin dropped!
"I'm sorry, but we're not having pizza. I have coupons for Ice Cream. What would you like?"
Heather raised her chin and glared. "I WANT PIZZA"
Mom was baffled. Since Heather wasn't going to choose something, she decided to make the order without heather. We sat in a booth next to the window and while the rest of us ate our ice cream Heather stared out the window at the pizza place.
My parents now saw what I did. That night the back talk started, the next day Heather started yelling. Dad had to pick her up and take her to her room because she wouldn't do as she was told. And it got worse. She threaten to kill the puppies, she threatened to kill my horse, she threatened to kill me, she threatened to kill Dad.
Mom and Dad sought help. But nothing seemed to have any affect. 2 and a half years went by. Heather threatened the foster children that had come to live with us after the adoption and the foster children had to be removed. For Mom and Dad that really hurt and Mom spent nights sleeping in the hall to make sure Heather didn't try to sneak out. Finally my parents came across some information that sounded hopeful. A treatment was being offers for kids that sounded like everything we had experienced with Heather. It was called Holding Therapy, and there were two places that did it. One in Colorado, one in Utah. We didn't know anyone in Colorado, but we had family in Utah. My parents decided it would be worth it to move across the country to get help for Heather.
There were a few things I didn't really care about... Like, I didn't really have great friends, so I wasn't going to miss them. I didn't go to public school, I hated it anyway. We lived in a double wide trailer and my parents told me in Utah we would live in a two story house. That excited me. But when I found out that we would not be able to take my horse, my tune changed. Horses were my life, instead of school I went to work at near by horse farms... I was sure Utah had horse farms, but I wanted my horse...
And so it was... The U-hauls were loaded and I said goodbye to Joey, to move across the country.
And that isn't the end....
A Work To Do
When I was in the Young Womens organization of our church and went to girls camp. It was either my first of second year, the leaders had us do a faith walk. I thought it was silly. I had done one indoors before and it has seemed really easy. This time though it was in the woods and there were some really difficult obstacles for a newly blindfolded person stumbling along.
This walk was supposed to represent us holding to the iron rod to navigate life. Each girl was assigned a 'guardian angel.' We were supposed to ask this person questions to help guide us along. I barely talked to my person, using my hands to feel my way ahead and moving very confidently along the rope. At one point there was a ledge that my assigned angel finally spoke to me unasked because she was sincerely afraid I would get hurt. Suddenly I came to the end of the rope. "Is that it?" I asked. "Yes." a male voice said. I took off my blind fold and the man, my best friend's father, chuckled and said "You didn't ask your guide if I was telling the truth. You will not be able to finish your work."
I was really mad at the time. I didn't feel like it was a fair representation of life. But the more I look back, the more I experience... The more I realize, I really am bad at thinking to talk with the Guardian and I really MUST remember the work I have been sent here to do is SO important and I MUST NOT quit early because Satan would have me think I'm done.
"Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it!... You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”
-Jeffrey R Holland
-Jeffrey R Holland
Off to the Races!
Sometime after my experience working with Julie, my mother came across someone at church who suggested she send me to work for a man named Jack Sursey.
My mother called him up and he gave permission for me to come to work there.
Jack worked with race horses. He had some horses in the races at Tampa Bay Downs, and he had a training barn and track for his "green" horses in Plant City.
Jack was an old man to me, wrinkled like leather and tough as nails but in that strangely lovable way. I only saw him ride a few times, I think it bothered his joints to ride too often, but the man was amazing. I asked him his history once and he told me how he had grown up with horses and had work in a steel mill till a horrible accident happened. There was a time that there weren't so many safety guards in place and one day Jacks hands had gotten caught in one of the giant presses at the factory. The machine had cut off and cauterized most of his figures and the tips of his thumbs. Yet, it didn't slow Jack down, in fact he could still repair most saddles faster and quicker that I could, all my fingers intact.
I mostly worked at the training barn. My work started early in the morning, feeding grain, mucking stalls and tacking up the spirited animals for the training jockeys. I was very eager to learn to ride and for some time there was no way Jack would let me on one of the green horses. He had an old retired bay gelding named Rocket that I could take out every day after chores were done. I enjoyed my time with Rocket a lot but I still craved the opportunity to be a trainer... Poor Jack. He always said to me that he didn't usually like children very much and it impressed my mother one day when he told her that I often acted more mature and responsible than many of the 40 year olds in his barn. My nagging finally got through...
One day the usual training jockey was out sick. Jack was really upset because if the horses didn't get worked they would get stiff. I begged him to let me ride. And he did.
There was a sweet little mare in the barn that I absolutely loved. Her name was Ginger and she had a beautiful chestnut color and feminine eyes. In the stall she was sweet and gentle, accept for the occasion playful nip, but the training jockey had warned me before that under the saddle she became a different horse. She liked to buck. Jack would let me take her on the track so we settled on jogging her around the paddock behind the barn. And it was rough. I got thrown about 3 times that afternoon but it was the most fun I could remember.
Then he put me on another one, this time on the track. He gave me instructions to only take the horse the left way around the track and to trot, no galloping or else the horse would get way from me... Three times around, then stop and turn toward the barn. I was happy as a dog, everything was going fine until I slipped a stirrup. Posting (a stand up, sit down motion) at a trot is hard work and requires good balance in the saddle. I couldn't risk tightening my knees to post or the horse would speed up. As I struggled to get my foot back in the stirrup I leaned forward and the horse thought I meant "go." And he was headed for the gate that led from the track to the barn, gaining speed, 25, 30 MPH and I couldn't get the stirrup. I was holding on for dear life as he rounded the gate. At that moment I saw that the gate to the pasture across from the track was open. I steered the horse that way and the realized my dilemma. There was a tree and the horse was headed so close to it I knew I would get knocked off. My only alternative was to bail early but we were crossing a concrete road.
At that moment I was overwhelmed and didn't get to decide. I blacked out.
I came to on the side of the road. The ranch hand that mended the fences and mowed the tall pasture grasses was bent over me, asking how many fingers he had up. I told him that was such a stupid question and asked where the horse was. He told me the horse has run into the pasture and would be fine. I struggled to stand up and started walking back to the barn. I was so embarrassed. I was scared. Jack was never going to let me ride again, I was sure of it. I hated that I now looked like a failure. And I didn't want to admit that my body was hurting. I still don't know how fast the horse was going or how exactly I landed on the road, but it HURT.
The ranch hand kept trying to help but it only made me more angry, and I shouldn't have but I yelled at him to leave me alone. Jack had been in the barn but could see what happened well enough. He drove out the golf cart to meet me on the road and asked me to get in. I said I didn't want to. I was determined to walk back to the barn, to show I wasn't hurt that bad and I didn't want to disappoint Jack. He asked me what was wrong and I couldn't keep up the act anymore. I started crying and told him I was afraid he would never let me ride again. Good ol' Jack: "You bet I'm making you ride again, you're getting back on that horse as soon as we catch 'im. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid to never ride again." And so it was, I got back in the saddle and walked that horse a few more times around the paddock. But I really was hurt and couldn't take anymore. We lunged the rest of the horses and finished our chores.
The next day when I woke up I couldn't move. It hurt so bad I screamed at the pain in my back and shoulders. My mother asked if we should go to the doctor but I refused, afraid she wouldn't let me ride again either. It was probably stupid. Stupid too that I still wanted to ride soo bad. But that's horse fever for ya'll...
After I recovered I continued to work with Jack for some time until once again, life's circumstances changed. Mom lost her job and couldn't afford to drive me out anymore. It was tough saying goodbye to them.
My mother called him up and he gave permission for me to come to work there.
Jack worked with race horses. He had some horses in the races at Tampa Bay Downs, and he had a training barn and track for his "green" horses in Plant City.
Jack was an old man to me, wrinkled like leather and tough as nails but in that strangely lovable way. I only saw him ride a few times, I think it bothered his joints to ride too often, but the man was amazing. I asked him his history once and he told me how he had grown up with horses and had work in a steel mill till a horrible accident happened. There was a time that there weren't so many safety guards in place and one day Jacks hands had gotten caught in one of the giant presses at the factory. The machine had cut off and cauterized most of his figures and the tips of his thumbs. Yet, it didn't slow Jack down, in fact he could still repair most saddles faster and quicker that I could, all my fingers intact.
I mostly worked at the training barn. My work started early in the morning, feeding grain, mucking stalls and tacking up the spirited animals for the training jockeys. I was very eager to learn to ride and for some time there was no way Jack would let me on one of the green horses. He had an old retired bay gelding named Rocket that I could take out every day after chores were done. I enjoyed my time with Rocket a lot but I still craved the opportunity to be a trainer... Poor Jack. He always said to me that he didn't usually like children very much and it impressed my mother one day when he told her that I often acted more mature and responsible than many of the 40 year olds in his barn. My nagging finally got through...
One day the usual training jockey was out sick. Jack was really upset because if the horses didn't get worked they would get stiff. I begged him to let me ride. And he did.
There was a sweet little mare in the barn that I absolutely loved. Her name was Ginger and she had a beautiful chestnut color and feminine eyes. In the stall she was sweet and gentle, accept for the occasion playful nip, but the training jockey had warned me before that under the saddle she became a different horse. She liked to buck. Jack would let me take her on the track so we settled on jogging her around the paddock behind the barn. And it was rough. I got thrown about 3 times that afternoon but it was the most fun I could remember.
Then he put me on another one, this time on the track. He gave me instructions to only take the horse the left way around the track and to trot, no galloping or else the horse would get way from me... Three times around, then stop and turn toward the barn. I was happy as a dog, everything was going fine until I slipped a stirrup. Posting (a stand up, sit down motion) at a trot is hard work and requires good balance in the saddle. I couldn't risk tightening my knees to post or the horse would speed up. As I struggled to get my foot back in the stirrup I leaned forward and the horse thought I meant "go." And he was headed for the gate that led from the track to the barn, gaining speed, 25, 30 MPH and I couldn't get the stirrup. I was holding on for dear life as he rounded the gate. At that moment I saw that the gate to the pasture across from the track was open. I steered the horse that way and the realized my dilemma. There was a tree and the horse was headed so close to it I knew I would get knocked off. My only alternative was to bail early but we were crossing a concrete road.
At that moment I was overwhelmed and didn't get to decide. I blacked out.
I came to on the side of the road. The ranch hand that mended the fences and mowed the tall pasture grasses was bent over me, asking how many fingers he had up. I told him that was such a stupid question and asked where the horse was. He told me the horse has run into the pasture and would be fine. I struggled to stand up and started walking back to the barn. I was so embarrassed. I was scared. Jack was never going to let me ride again, I was sure of it. I hated that I now looked like a failure. And I didn't want to admit that my body was hurting. I still don't know how fast the horse was going or how exactly I landed on the road, but it HURT.
The ranch hand kept trying to help but it only made me more angry, and I shouldn't have but I yelled at him to leave me alone. Jack had been in the barn but could see what happened well enough. He drove out the golf cart to meet me on the road and asked me to get in. I said I didn't want to. I was determined to walk back to the barn, to show I wasn't hurt that bad and I didn't want to disappoint Jack. He asked me what was wrong and I couldn't keep up the act anymore. I started crying and told him I was afraid he would never let me ride again. Good ol' Jack: "You bet I'm making you ride again, you're getting back on that horse as soon as we catch 'im. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid to never ride again." And so it was, I got back in the saddle and walked that horse a few more times around the paddock. But I really was hurt and couldn't take anymore. We lunged the rest of the horses and finished our chores.
The next day when I woke up I couldn't move. It hurt so bad I screamed at the pain in my back and shoulders. My mother asked if we should go to the doctor but I refused, afraid she wouldn't let me ride again either. It was probably stupid. Stupid too that I still wanted to ride soo bad. But that's horse fever for ya'll...
After I recovered I continued to work with Jack for some time until once again, life's circumstances changed. Mom lost her job and couldn't afford to drive me out anymore. It was tough saying goodbye to them.
Horses of courses
When I was 11 yrs old my mother was struggling to keep me interested in my own education. Mostly, I was bored. School was a bunch of useless information to me and I needed experiences to learn from. Mom came up with the brilliant idea of having me "intern" or volunteer somewhere, trying out a profession I might was to do as an adult.
From the time I was 6-10 yrs old we had lived Chapman Rd., one side of Plant City, FL.
We lived in the Strawberry and Lightening capital of the world but were surrounded by pastures full of grazing horses and groves of orange trees draped in moss.
While my playmates were often too afraid to go near these giant animals, I was fearless. I lacked any concept of these animals having an intention to harm me. Mom would often come home to find that the carrots and apples were gone from the fridge. I had used them to lure the animals to me. My hands would be covered in dirt and slobber, and my clothes matted in horse hair, manure clinging on my tennis shoes.
So when she proposed to me what I wanted to learn, I said horses!
At 11 we had moved to Colson Rd. on the other side of Plant City.
We had an acres of land, pole barn full of chickens and cages with rabbits, dogs in the yard, cats in the double wide prefab house... and now I wanted a horse.
My wonderful mother took me down the road to a field where there were always riders on horse back and surrounded by barns. They called it the Polo Plantation.
We spoke with a woman named Julie and she agreed to teach me in return for hard work. I learned to clean stalls, clean tack, clean the horses that Julie exercised to their owner and when the day was done I rode a sweet school mare, a retired polo horse that Julie brought to the barn just for me!
Sadly, Julie had not thought it would be necessary to check with her employer to insure permission for me to be working with her. One day her employer showed up unexpectedly. The woman was very upset and said she never wanted to see me on her property again. I was heart broken.
Later it was explained to me that because my mother and I had not signed any papers releasing her from any responsibility she was afraid that she could be sued in the case of an accident and she was not willing to accept that risk. I understood but was still heartbroken. I kept in contact with Julie and often asked if she knew of anyone else that might be willing to have me around.
One day when I called Julie she asked if I would be interested in having a horse of my own. Would I ever! She told me to ask my parents and let her know. Mom and dad were supportive, even willing to pay for fencing our property as long as I would help built it. I helped.
Joey was a retired polo pony, 1/4 quarter horse, 1/4 thorough bred, 1/2 morgan. He was a black gelding with bad knees and a heart of gold. He was my first horse.
Later I found another barn on the plantation that was willing to have my help in return for teaching me what I needed to know. I rode Joey to and from home to work each day and became proficient at ponying 6 horses at a time to exercise. They taught me how to tack up and braid tails for game days and how to identify polo sticks. Game days were full of danger, chaos and some of the most fun!
Some time later my family went through hard financial times and we had to find another home for Joey. I gave him to my best friend Ashton. Later when we could make arrangements to have him again, Ashton surprised me by returning him on my birthday. One of the best presents EVER.
From the time I was 6-10 yrs old we had lived Chapman Rd., one side of Plant City, FL.
We lived in the Strawberry and Lightening capital of the world but were surrounded by pastures full of grazing horses and groves of orange trees draped in moss.
While my playmates were often too afraid to go near these giant animals, I was fearless. I lacked any concept of these animals having an intention to harm me. Mom would often come home to find that the carrots and apples were gone from the fridge. I had used them to lure the animals to me. My hands would be covered in dirt and slobber, and my clothes matted in horse hair, manure clinging on my tennis shoes.
So when she proposed to me what I wanted to learn, I said horses!
At 11 we had moved to Colson Rd. on the other side of Plant City.
We had an acres of land, pole barn full of chickens and cages with rabbits, dogs in the yard, cats in the double wide prefab house... and now I wanted a horse.
My wonderful mother took me down the road to a field where there were always riders on horse back and surrounded by barns. They called it the Polo Plantation.
We spoke with a woman named Julie and she agreed to teach me in return for hard work. I learned to clean stalls, clean tack, clean the horses that Julie exercised to their owner and when the day was done I rode a sweet school mare, a retired polo horse that Julie brought to the barn just for me!
Sadly, Julie had not thought it would be necessary to check with her employer to insure permission for me to be working with her. One day her employer showed up unexpectedly. The woman was very upset and said she never wanted to see me on her property again. I was heart broken.
Later it was explained to me that because my mother and I had not signed any papers releasing her from any responsibility she was afraid that she could be sued in the case of an accident and she was not willing to accept that risk. I understood but was still heartbroken. I kept in contact with Julie and often asked if she knew of anyone else that might be willing to have me around.
One day when I called Julie she asked if I would be interested in having a horse of my own. Would I ever! She told me to ask my parents and let her know. Mom and dad were supportive, even willing to pay for fencing our property as long as I would help built it. I helped.
Joey was a retired polo pony, 1/4 quarter horse, 1/4 thorough bred, 1/2 morgan. He was a black gelding with bad knees and a heart of gold. He was my first horse.
Later I found another barn on the plantation that was willing to have my help in return for teaching me what I needed to know. I rode Joey to and from home to work each day and became proficient at ponying 6 horses at a time to exercise. They taught me how to tack up and braid tails for game days and how to identify polo sticks. Game days were full of danger, chaos and some of the most fun!
 |
| For more on Polo go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polo |
1996
This was another exciting year. We moved across town, from the north side to the south side of Plant City. My grandparents who had been living in Missouri were moving to Florida and would be our new next door neighbors. My grandfather had always been into real estate and developing new properties. So the property we moved to was part of a bigger piece that was subdivided and trailers moved in. My brother Cody returned from his mission and my sister Mitzi decided to go into one of the houses with him.
Our property was HUGE. There had been an extremely run down house on the property which we tore down and brought in a new trailer. The cement foundation from the old house was so small we turned it into a half basket ball court. There was an old workshop and poll barn that we kept and used for raising chickens and rabbits. There were green houses built from pvc piping and plastic covering. They were really run down. We tore them down partway but there was water piping that had been run underground that we never did pull up. That part of the yard somehow always looked shabby... There was a line of fruit trees in the back yard and a line of pine trees in the front yard. And the road we were on was FULL of pastures with horses and cattle and orange groves.
Before my grandpa moved down from missouri we had gone to visit him and we brought home a new pet. His name was Figaro. He was a black and white tom cat with the same markings as the little cat in the disney movie, Pinocio. Figero loved the new place!
The new house seemed enormous to me! It had two living rooms, one with a GREAT fireplace, an eat in kitchen AND a formal dining area. A master suite and two bedroom with huge walk-in closets that were pretty much half the size of the bedroom. It took a while to get used to all the noises of the new house but it was worth it.
With Grandma and Grandpa next door it was nice to have them at our family dinners and holidays.
This year was one of the first times we had a family reunion at Christmas time. It was a year none of us would forget. It was a hot December. even for Florida, and a lot of our family was miserable about the heat. We went to disney world and had a blast. Then right before Christmas everyone got pink eye. It was ugly but at the same time it kept us all together.
On Christmas Eve they put all us kids to bed in the same room together. I didn't believe in Santa anymore, I had figured that one out. But a lot of the younger kids still believed and that made it magical. Then my brother had a brilliant idea and snuck away. While someone else told everyone to be quiet and listen for Santa's sleigh bells he ran outside past the house ringing some bells. The room went CRAZY with excited children but the adults warned that Santa couldn't actually come to the house till everyone was sound asleep.
I was super excited. I received a beautiful porcelain doll that year. I had wanted one for so long and I look back now and think how silly... I could even play with the pretty thing... But I was happy anyway.
Our property was HUGE. There had been an extremely run down house on the property which we tore down and brought in a new trailer. The cement foundation from the old house was so small we turned it into a half basket ball court. There was an old workshop and poll barn that we kept and used for raising chickens and rabbits. There were green houses built from pvc piping and plastic covering. They were really run down. We tore them down partway but there was water piping that had been run underground that we never did pull up. That part of the yard somehow always looked shabby... There was a line of fruit trees in the back yard and a line of pine trees in the front yard. And the road we were on was FULL of pastures with horses and cattle and orange groves.
Before my grandpa moved down from missouri we had gone to visit him and we brought home a new pet. His name was Figaro. He was a black and white tom cat with the same markings as the little cat in the disney movie, Pinocio. Figero loved the new place!
The new house seemed enormous to me! It had two living rooms, one with a GREAT fireplace, an eat in kitchen AND a formal dining area. A master suite and two bedroom with huge walk-in closets that were pretty much half the size of the bedroom. It took a while to get used to all the noises of the new house but it was worth it.
With Grandma and Grandpa next door it was nice to have them at our family dinners and holidays.
This year was one of the first times we had a family reunion at Christmas time. It was a year none of us would forget. It was a hot December. even for Florida, and a lot of our family was miserable about the heat. We went to disney world and had a blast. Then right before Christmas everyone got pink eye. It was ugly but at the same time it kept us all together.
On Christmas Eve they put all us kids to bed in the same room together. I didn't believe in Santa anymore, I had figured that one out. But a lot of the younger kids still believed and that made it magical. Then my brother had a brilliant idea and snuck away. While someone else told everyone to be quiet and listen for Santa's sleigh bells he ran outside past the house ringing some bells. The room went CRAZY with excited children but the adults warned that Santa couldn't actually come to the house till everyone was sound asleep.
I was super excited. I received a beautiful porcelain doll that year. I had wanted one for so long and I look back now and think how silly... I could even play with the pretty thing... But I was happy anyway.
4th Grade
Lincoln Elementary School.
I started out the year really excited. It was a new school, a new teacher, new classmates! I was even going to have guitar lessons in my music class! But as the year progressed I found myself getting bored. The class sizes really weren't that different, the teacher was nice but the lessons weren't usually very interesting and the other children were still just as rude as ever.
On my bus, the driver had chosen me to be one of the bus patrols... At first this was exciting too! I got to be helpful and had the responsibility of memorizing the route in case the driver got sick and we had a substitute driver. But I soon found out this wasn't so great either, because the other kids on the bus didn't like that I would remind them to sit in their assigned seats or ask them to quiet down when it was getting too noisy. But I was only doing what the driver asked me to...
The last straw for me happened on the bus. The day came that our regular driver was sick and we had a substitute driver. This was the MOST important part of my job as bus patrol. I had the route memorized and everything was going fine until one of the older girls on the bus realized I was giving the driver instructions and decided to get out of her seat to give the driver instructions too. Pretty soon the driver took a wrong turn and we were lost. I was really upset with the older girl for what she did. I told her she should get back in her seat so I could help the driver get us home. She knew the driver was worried about finding the route and wasn't watching so she slugged me in the gut and told me to shut up.
The rest of the ride I didn't say anything. I didn't bother trying to help the driver at all. The driver had to call the bus headquarters to get back on track several times. Normally I would get home by four o'clock, but that day it took a whole extra hour. When I came home at 5 o'clock my mother was very worried and asked what happened. I told her what happened and that I never wanted to go back to school again. She had homeschool her other kids before me and was fine with allowing me to stay home. But when the driver found out what had happened she called and begged me to come back, even the school called. But I was done. I appreciated that the adults cared, but I just didn't want to deal with the other kids.
So it was that I began my homeschooling. I found it way more enjoyable because it usually meant playing educational games with my parents and when we came across a question we didn't know the answer to we would do research. I loved it.
I started out the year really excited. It was a new school, a new teacher, new classmates! I was even going to have guitar lessons in my music class! But as the year progressed I found myself getting bored. The class sizes really weren't that different, the teacher was nice but the lessons weren't usually very interesting and the other children were still just as rude as ever.
On my bus, the driver had chosen me to be one of the bus patrols... At first this was exciting too! I got to be helpful and had the responsibility of memorizing the route in case the driver got sick and we had a substitute driver. But I soon found out this wasn't so great either, because the other kids on the bus didn't like that I would remind them to sit in their assigned seats or ask them to quiet down when it was getting too noisy. But I was only doing what the driver asked me to...
The last straw for me happened on the bus. The day came that our regular driver was sick and we had a substitute driver. This was the MOST important part of my job as bus patrol. I had the route memorized and everything was going fine until one of the older girls on the bus realized I was giving the driver instructions and decided to get out of her seat to give the driver instructions too. Pretty soon the driver took a wrong turn and we were lost. I was really upset with the older girl for what she did. I told her she should get back in her seat so I could help the driver get us home. She knew the driver was worried about finding the route and wasn't watching so she slugged me in the gut and told me to shut up.
The rest of the ride I didn't say anything. I didn't bother trying to help the driver at all. The driver had to call the bus headquarters to get back on track several times. Normally I would get home by four o'clock, but that day it took a whole extra hour. When I came home at 5 o'clock my mother was very worried and asked what happened. I told her what happened and that I never wanted to go back to school again. She had homeschool her other kids before me and was fine with allowing me to stay home. But when the driver found out what had happened she called and begged me to come back, even the school called. But I was done. I appreciated that the adults cared, but I just didn't want to deal with the other kids.
So it was that I began my homeschooling. I found it way more enjoyable because it usually meant playing educational games with my parents and when we came across a question we didn't know the answer to we would do research. I loved it.
3rd Grade
Something exciting happened this year. Since Kindergarten I had been attending Knights Elementary. But a new school was being built in town and they were inviting children that were gifted to attend their school. It was called Lincoln Elementary and they called it a "magnet" school. They were going to offer smaller class sizes to provide more opportunities for learning.
My mom took me to the building one day and we spend the whole afternoon doing brain puzzlers and answering questions. I didn't even realized I was being tested, I had so much fun!
Later we received a letter inviting ME to attend the new school the next year! I was SO excited!
My third grade year had all ready started at Knights Elementary and my teacher's name was Mrs Everett. At first she wasn't so bad, we did some fun things. As we learned about rain forests we built a paper maché model around the doorway so it actually felt like walking through a rain forest. It was so big we were featured in the local news.
But that year we were also learning about multiplication tables and I was struggling.
This was also about the time that a lot of other things in my life were changing. My faithful canine companion, Ramseys, who had been with me as long as I could remember, went missing, and never came back. I was VERY sad.
And I was 8 yrs old now. I had been baptized, become an official member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and started attending Achievement Days, an activity night for girls 8-12 yrs old. I liked the leaders of the youth group but I didn't get along very well with the other girls. They all went to different schools and talked about things I just couldn't get interested in. I felt very excluded.
My brother Cody turned 19 and left to serve as a missionary in Mexico for two years. This meant I no longer had to share my room but at night I wasn't sure I liked sleeping in there alone.
With all of this going on, multiplication was the least of MY worries... Usually I was VERY good at memorization. So when I told Mrs. Everett about getting invited to attend the new Lincoln Elementary, she became upset. She pulled out my multiplication quizzes and said "Do you really think they want a stupid child like you that can't even multiply?"
I was heartbroken. She thought I was stupid. What if she was right? What if the new school would find out I couldn't keep up?
When I got home that night I told my mom my concerns and what had happened. Mom was upset and told me not to worry about it. The next day we had a meeting with the school principle, Mrs. Everett and my parents. I sat and listened as they discussed what happened and Mrs. Everett apologized.
The very next day however Mrs Everett called me to her desk at the front of the class. "Are you trying to get me in trouble?" she asked. I shook my head, I hadn't MEANT to get her in trouble, I thought, but I knew now, she should never have called me stupid. I didn't say anything to her though and she thought I was being rude. "When you get to that new school, you'll see I'm right."
I knew I wasn't going to say anything about this to my parents, or Mrs Everett would think I really was trying to get her in trouble. But she WAS wrong and I was going to prove it!
End of year testing started that week. I tried my absolute best, hoping that if the new school say my test results they would still be impressed.
Everything came back fine and I never had to worry about seeing Mrs Everett again!
My mom took me to the building one day and we spend the whole afternoon doing brain puzzlers and answering questions. I didn't even realized I was being tested, I had so much fun!
Later we received a letter inviting ME to attend the new school the next year! I was SO excited!
My third grade year had all ready started at Knights Elementary and my teacher's name was Mrs Everett. At first she wasn't so bad, we did some fun things. As we learned about rain forests we built a paper maché model around the doorway so it actually felt like walking through a rain forest. It was so big we were featured in the local news.
But that year we were also learning about multiplication tables and I was struggling.
This was also about the time that a lot of other things in my life were changing. My faithful canine companion, Ramseys, who had been with me as long as I could remember, went missing, and never came back. I was VERY sad.
And I was 8 yrs old now. I had been baptized, become an official member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and started attending Achievement Days, an activity night for girls 8-12 yrs old. I liked the leaders of the youth group but I didn't get along very well with the other girls. They all went to different schools and talked about things I just couldn't get interested in. I felt very excluded.
My brother Cody turned 19 and left to serve as a missionary in Mexico for two years. This meant I no longer had to share my room but at night I wasn't sure I liked sleeping in there alone.
With all of this going on, multiplication was the least of MY worries... Usually I was VERY good at memorization. So when I told Mrs. Everett about getting invited to attend the new Lincoln Elementary, she became upset. She pulled out my multiplication quizzes and said "Do you really think they want a stupid child like you that can't even multiply?"
I was heartbroken. She thought I was stupid. What if she was right? What if the new school would find out I couldn't keep up?
When I got home that night I told my mom my concerns and what had happened. Mom was upset and told me not to worry about it. The next day we had a meeting with the school principle, Mrs. Everett and my parents. I sat and listened as they discussed what happened and Mrs. Everett apologized.
The very next day however Mrs Everett called me to her desk at the front of the class. "Are you trying to get me in trouble?" she asked. I shook my head, I hadn't MEANT to get her in trouble, I thought, but I knew now, she should never have called me stupid. I didn't say anything to her though and she thought I was being rude. "When you get to that new school, you'll see I'm right."
I knew I wasn't going to say anything about this to my parents, or Mrs Everett would think I really was trying to get her in trouble. But she WAS wrong and I was going to prove it!
End of year testing started that week. I tried my absolute best, hoping that if the new school say my test results they would still be impressed.
Everything came back fine and I never had to worry about seeing Mrs Everett again!
2nd Grade
Mrs. Bush
My second grade teacher's name stuck in my head because of her hair. Her hair made me think of a bush. You know the Chia heads that were SO popular for some time? That's pretty much how her hair was shaped, only her hair was blond and she was older...
She was a good teacher. Besides her name I actually don't remember a whole lot. She had to leave the classroom one day during class and decided to leave me in charge. I was to make a mark on the chalk board for anyone who misbehaved while she was gone... Of course one of the boys decided to take advantage of the opportunity and started dancing on his desk... I must have had twenty marks by his name before Mrs. Bush came back in. I think she found it rather amusing.
My second grade teacher's name stuck in my head because of her hair. Her hair made me think of a bush. You know the Chia heads that were SO popular for some time? That's pretty much how her hair was shaped, only her hair was blond and she was older...She was a good teacher. Besides her name I actually don't remember a whole lot. She had to leave the classroom one day during class and decided to leave me in charge. I was to make a mark on the chalk board for anyone who misbehaved while she was gone... Of course one of the boys decided to take advantage of the opportunity and started dancing on his desk... I must have had twenty marks by his name before Mrs. Bush came back in. I think she found it rather amusing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)