Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Condition 1 - Broken (Chapter 2 "Girl From the Ghetto")

Here is my next "chapter" to the "Girl From the Ghetto" that I am writing. It is super duper rough to say the least! LOL! If you want to read the first chapter you can find it here:

http://homefrontchick.blogspot.com/2011/03/conditions-girl-from-ghetto-1.html

Condition 1 – Broken
The summer before my junior year of high school was a life changer for me. I had gone to visit my sister (like I did almost every summer) and it was during that summer visit that a series of events started to take place. It seemed as if I was surrounded by those that believed in me and basically told me I could do anything I set my mind to. I don’t know if they realize just how profound an impact they have had on my life, but I am convinced that if it was not for that summer – the summer of 1991 I would be in a far different place than I am now. Like, I am pretty sure I would be bagging groceries at the local Safeway in my hometown, divorced with a kid or two (or never ever married).
My freshman and sophomore years of high school were a joke. I was more interested in boys than I was in education. I was more worried about where we were gonna have to move next and if my step dad and mom were gonna have a knock down drag out fight (literally) than learning Alegebra or English or any subject for that matter. I had a 1.66 GPA leaving 10th grade. I don’t even know how I passed 10th grade, but I managed to get on to 11th grade.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I was not a “bad” kid. I held down a job at a Christian preschool in which I was an aide. I did not party. I did not drink. Come to think of it, I did nothing at all other than work and make out with my boyfriend – a lot of making out we did at his house on Friday nights. We even watched the Superbowl at his house in January of 1990. It was the Denver Broncos….his team. His mom made hot wings. AND we made out on his couch a lot that day too.
I would say that he was my first “real” boyfriend. He was 2 years older than I was and the relationship lasted for 6 months. He ended up breaking up with my after NJROTC in senior hall and I slapped him (I was in my uniform too). Yeah, I slapped him so hard his glasses flew off his face and they broke. That was not one of my finer moments. My best friend was there and so was his. Pretty sure both of them were quite shocked at my behavior. Needless to say we did not get back together and his best friend teased him about that for many years after that. I did have an opportunity to apologize to him years later and he quickly forgave me (or said he did) and actually tried to make up an excuse on why I did and how he understood.

Ah shucks….
What a guy…..
Not the guy for me, but still it was awfully decent of him to at least let me off the hook on that one considering I like slapped him in front of everyone.
So, needless to say, I spent all of my sophomore year pinning over the loss that relationship. However, I am glad it came to an end. The path we were heading down would have lead to early parenthood for us and a hard life. Still letting it go and saying good bye was pretty tough.
So, comes my summer of 1991. It was a good summer and I had a lot of fun! I came back to high school for my junior year ready to take on the world. I finally had some confidance which is exactly what I needed. I had taken Spanish in junior high and did not do well at it AT ALL! I knew I needed two years of foreign language in order to get into a college. I was terrified of French, but….wait……what was that? Is that German? Yep! My high school was offering German and I signed up for it AND I did really well! I earned straight A’s in it for two years. My teacher was amazing and even hooked me up with some babysitting jobs in her neighborhood.
The first week of school I was placed in the “resource” math class…you know the “stupid” class. Anyways, I made an appointment with my guidance councilor and told her I wanted to take Algebra. She told me my testing and grades would not allow it. I then told her to give me three weeks. She was so impressed with my “balls” that she agreed to it. Within those three weeks I was actually advanced to the next math class and got into grade level college prep English.
I could not believe it….I mean, I had dyslexia and I was stupid! My Mom always told me that math and science were too hard. I just figured that since the apple did not fall far from the tree I would not be able to be successful in those areas and everything would be too hard for me.
By the end of my junior year my GPA for that year (not cumulative) was 3.8. I started to toy with the idea that maybe I really was not dumb and probably of average intelligence. Whenever I started to fall back into self doubt I would cling to the summer of 1991 and that would pull me out of it. Truly, it is what got me through!
In my senior year I knew that I wanted to go to college and I even had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to become a teacher and show kids that just because their circumstances were grim did not mean they could not achieve their dreams. I wanted to pass on that belief and life lesson that I learned in the summer of 1991 to other kids in similar situations as I was. The problem was I had basically messed around my first two years of high school. So, I went to my guidance councilor for….well….guidance! She advised the community college would be my best option. I, however, did not like that route.
See, by this time, my senior year I had another boyfriend. A boyfriend whom was crazy about me. Head over heels in love with me and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I must confess that I thought he was pretty swell to, but I knew that I was not ready to walk the plank…..er….I mean walk down the aisle to eternal matrimony. Not that he was a bad guy or anything like that, but I was just scared. I had a lot of life to live and figure out who I was before I could make the marriage commitment. I had seen my mom do it several times and get it wrong. She started the cycle really young and I just did not want to go there.
I knew that I had to get out. I had to get out of the area and stand on my two feet. If I went to the local community college I would end up “stuck” and I did not want to be stuck. I prayed. I prayed long and hard over what to do. Then, an opportunity landed in my lap.
My German teacher had a guest speaker come in and talk about doing a year of study in Germany. I honestly did not think that I would ever ever get selected to do this, but I figured I had nothing to lose and filled out the application. I kind of had in the back of my head that I would move to Florida (that is where my sister was at the time…have I mentioned that she had found me another boyfriend in Florida that I was writing to and really wanted to met me? Yeah, he was 6 years older than I and was looking to get married too. Ha-ha!) after high school and start my life there. Never the less, my German teacher thought I would be a great exchange student and I filled out the application, jumped through the hoops and was selected.
I was stunned. I was dazed. You could have knocked me over with a feather! The year would cost me $5000 which I had saved in the bank from working since I was 12. I told my mom and she told me it would be to hard…that sealed the deal for me – I had to go!
So, in August of 1993, after I graduated from H.S., I packed two suitcases full of 5 pairs of jeans, 10 sweaters, 5 short sleeve shirts, a winter coat, and a pair of tennis shoes and boarded that plane at San Francisco International airport for Germany.
It was gutsy….
Kind of stupid….
But it was my choice! I was officially running away from my life and was gonna go find myself in Germany. It then dawned on me that I told God I would not ever live overseas! It was my FIRST condition for cryin’ out loud! What? Did He pull a fast one on me?
Not exactly….
However….
I am quite certain that He did chuckle in heaven at me and said to his angles “this is just the beginning. She has no idea just what she is going to do there or where her life is going to go.”
So, my many hour flight over the Atlantic Ocean I spent having a conversation with God and totally and completely doubting myself and what had just happened. I was literally going to live half way around the world with people who spoke a different language. YIKES! Not that it mattered what language they spoke because I got totally lost and confused at Heathrow airport in London England and that was in an airport in which I could understand. That is not the point or what matters. What matters is that I was about to grow up and experience things I never ever dreamed were possible for a girl like me …. a girl from the ghetto.

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