The Year That Almost Changed My Life
In was the summer of 1999, I was a rebellious young adult, recently freed from the shackles of childhood, and had my whole life ahead of me. I had barely graduated from high school, so I definitely wanted nothing to do with college. That, however, was the only option as far as my parents were concerned.
Both of my parents were very big on education, and since they were both in the Navy for twenty plus years, very big on discipline also. In fact, they pretty much sucked the fun out of my adolescence with all of their rules and regulations. They were both retired senior chiefs and both had received their masters degrees while enlisted. My mother was an elementary school teacher and my father was a substance abuse therapist who moonlighted as a Baptist minister. To make matters worse, my older sister was a college graduate, working in the airforce, who just happened to be dating a minister military man. Yes, I was just your regular everyday “black sheep” and it didn't bother me one bit. As a matter of fact, I rather enjoyed going against the grain. It wasn't that I didn't think I was smart, I knew I was. I suffered from an extreme lack of interest. I wasn't interested in reading, writing, or arithmetic; test taking was not my forte. I had a very short attention span and a big problem with authority. To put it plainly, school was neither for me, nor I for it.
Then, my parents resorted to bribery; “If you enroll in school, we will get you a car”, they said. It was a low blow, but it worked--sort of. So, I had to decide what I wanted to major in. There were a lot of activities that I enjoyed, but the thought of having to do them for the rest of my life was unsettling. To be honest, I really just wanted time to sit back and do nothing, but as my parents reminded me time and again, I was an adult and it was time to make adult decisions. Eventually, I settled on something I thought would be easy. I majored in Early Childhood Development at TCC. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had my books, my schedule, and, most of all, my car.
School was a breeze. My teachers didn't assign homework, and most of them didn't even care if I showed up to class. My only problem class was math. However, my teacher took a shining to me and gave me a passing grade. She even offered me a job at her accounting firm, which I respectfully declined. I had gotten a job waitressing. I was getting tips every night, so I always had money. Best of all, my parents were off my back. This was their attempt at making the house as calm and stress free as possible, which we all know is the perfect learning environment.
By the time my second semester came, I was completely lost, to say the least, and my waitressing gig left little time for studying. Even when I found myself with a free moment, studying was the last thing on my mind. There were more important things--shopping, going out to clubs, shopping, late nights with the boyfriend, shopping, and of course shopping--and, thanks to my parents, I now had a vehicle to help me do them.
After a few weeks of classes, I just stopped going. What was the point? I was so far behind and so unmotivated, I knew I would never pass. I kept up the charade for my parents though. Between their work schedules and mine, nobody was ever home, so they never knew the difference. I knew I had to tell them at some point, but there was definitely no rush. Besides, if they found out too soon, they might have made me go back.
When the time came to announce my enrollment status (or the lack thereof), my parents seemed more disappointed than anything. Their plan hadn’t worked at all. It had back fired. The car didn’t motivate me to go to school; it simply helped me find other reasons not to go. After long moments of silence, they reluctantly went back to business as usual and things went back to normal pretty quickly. I was just happy they didn't take back the car. The experience did, however, curdle the already sour taste that school had left in my mouth. It would take more than a decade for me to attempt college life again.