School Experiance

The only journey is the journey within.
- Rainer Maria Rilke

When I think back on my high school experiences, the most memorable and most eye opening would be my senior year Economics class.  During one of our studies, our professor was trying to explain what our taxes pay for and one of them happed to be an incarceration facility.  To our surprise, our professor booked an appointment for us to visit.  As we all gathered around closely monitoring the primates in the cells, our professor took the time to explain how we help feed these murders, robbers, rapist and even death row inmates.  I was horrified.  These criminal have everything.  They have a huge gym to work out in, multiple television sets and even a library.  I kept asking myself why anybody would want to be in here.  My question was short lived when my professor explained that these 10x10 cellblocks is more than what most of those criminals have outside of those walls.

As we toured the facility, all I could think about was my freedom.  I was so happy because I knew I would never be in here.  I love my life too much to spend it in a 10x10 cell wall.  The ride home was very quiet.  Nobody spoke nor asked any questions.  I think we were all shocked and bewildered by our encounter.  Jail is most definitely not a place to be in.  Sometimes, when I get angry, I think about the time I visited the jail that dreary October day.  Nothing is worth an angry thought after visiting a place like that.  I think our professor taught us more than just money that day, he also opened the eyes to a couple of off track students in our class.  In my class were three students who were in the brink of expulsion from the school. After our class trip to the facility, those students made such a huge turn around.  Two of them graduated with A-B honor roll and the other graduated and became a police officer.  To this day, he still serves his community proudly. As for me, I live happily in Florida with my cat and my freedom.  If I would see my Economics professor again, I would thank him.  Some people need to visually see something traumatic, to mentally grow from it.  Sometimes, words are not enough.

Family Event

As years go by and memories grow, one certain day stands frozen in time.  I had just turned eighteen years old.  I had kept a dark secret hidden from my family for too long.  Not that I wanted to, but because of the severity of it.  I was embarrassed, scared, but mostly sadden.  My mother walked in my room to tell me good night and I asked her if she loved me.  She said of course.  As she walked away, I asked if I may speak with her.  I tried holding my tears in, but it had been too long.  I cried and cried until I had no more tears.  I told her everything that I could remember, even the ones I tried to forget. When I was molested long ago, she asked me why I had not spoken to her about it when it happened.  All I could tell her was that I was trying to pretend it never happened.  She was so furious. She was not mad at me, but at the persons responsible for hurting her little girl.  Those horrible people took my innocence away long ago, but not my childhood.  To this day, I do not fear anybody, especially men.  I have my mother to thank for that.

 Since that night, my mother reassured me that those horrible people will never step foot in our house again.  And that if it were up to her, they would be dead.  From that point on, I grew stronger mentally and physically.  I devoted myself to helping kids in any way I could and what a best when then becoming a teacher.  Even though what happen to me was horrible, I did not let it bring me down.  After the night I spoke to my mother, I felt a huge urge of guilt leave my body.  Guilty because I had lied to myself that nothing ever happened to me.  I did not say anything because I thought it was my fault, but because I was bewildered as to what had happen and why.  Why me?  I wondered that for ten plus years and finally I got answer.  I am a better person today because of what I went through; however, I think I still would have been the same person had it not happened.  Regardless, I love who I am and the things I do.  My mother taught me to be: strong, poise, persistent and honest.  I think I have done all of those and more.

Childhood Event

As I think back into my childhood, I think of the day I knew I could not use the bathroom standing up.  I was pretty young and knew right away that I hated the diaper.  I have seen my older brother running to the bathroom multiple times to beat the bladder that seemed uncontrollable, and to my dismay, he stood.  I wondered how he did this and I tried to mimic.  Now, this tasked to me was a little more difficult because one, I could not reach the toilet, and two, I was afraid of the hole in the bottom of the toilet.  Did I also mention I am a girl?  Well, try explaining this to a two and a half year old determined girl that insisted she void standing up.  As my mother explained multiple times, that girls void sitting down, I wanted no part in this because to me, I saw no difference.  I had two legs like my brother, two eyes, two ears and so forth.  I did not want to hear that I was different until I saw it for myself.  I did not have to wait long.  As my older brother who was three years older than me, had an accident in his pants, I watched in horror as my mother changed him.  I was grossed out because of his weird body part below. I did not understand why it was different than mine, but all I knew was that I was a girl. After that horrific display, I was happy to be a girl.

I have learned to love my body for all its flaws and beauty.  I may not have learned to void standing up, but I grew to love why I did not want to.  As innocent children grow, one must let them be curious and explore why things are the way they are.   My mother let me be an explorer. She let me explore and figure things out until I needed her.  To this day, I still do.