When we moved to Arizona, I was about one month away from graduating from the eight grade- by the skin of my teeth. Needless to say, the sudden move to a state that was just finishing up their school year (they tend to end in early May out west, while we end in June here in the east) caused me to fail the eight grade and I had to begin it all over again in Phoenix.
Eight grade started with the violent attack I endured, just a month or so into the semester. From that incident, I missed about three weeks of school. That was certainly an excused absence. The guidance counselor even did some follow up when I returned. This consisted of a quick "How are you doing?". Followed by an equally awkward "Fine.", and we were done with therapy.
By the spring, I had a boyfriend. Well, actually within a couple of weeks, I had a boyfriend. But by the spring, I had a new boyfriend. He was older, by about five years. I was spending all of my time with him, including time I was supposed to be sending in school. I would get up each day, get "ready for school", take the school bus to school and walk away from there, get on a city bus and head to his place, where my friend and her boyfriend lived as well. My friend, Katrina, she was my age. Fourteen. Living with her boyfriend who was around nineteen, with a baby on the way. Isn't this insane? Insane. So I went there each day, and back home in the afternoon. For weeks. A couple of months, actually. I went one day and the school did not contact my mother. In all fairness, that would have been much easier if we had a telephone, which we did not. But it continued, so I kept ditching. Yeah, I would think they would send someone to the home after a certain amount of time had passed. I guess I slipped through some cracks.
Finally, there came a day when my mother came looking for me. Not because she realized I had been skipping school for weeks, but because she needed me for something. She had called the school to have me pulled out for the day. Some crisis had arisen at my stepfather's prison (I am not making this shit up, people!) and she needed me to babysit my brother. So she called the school and was told her daughter had not been in school for weeks.
Can you imagine what she did? Yelling. Grounding. Heads rolling all over town. You might think so. But, no. I was picked up at the boyfriend's house and taken home to babysit. Some strongly worded finger pointing and that was the end of that. I did return to school, and I passed the eighth grade.
Should my mother have lost her license because of my truancy? Perhaps not. I don't know that taking away one's ability to get their kids to school in the first place, or to a job they need (not applicable here) is the way to ensure their kids get to school. However, a closer look into the home was definitely warranted in our case. I didn't simply slip through a few cracks, I was swallowed up in them. In fact, graduating eighth grade was the last graduation I would attend. I never returned to school.
That is correct. I never returned to school after eighth grade. Well, I take that back. The following fall, when I was now living with that older boyfriend, I made a loose attempt to continue school by registering at the high school and getting myself there on the bus each day. For about a week. It's funny, I can remember how I felt going to school. I was "living on my own", I didn't have to go to school, and choosing to do so made me feel decidedly adult. I remember feeling good making such a mature, independent decision. And I enjoyed school. So when I decided to quit going, you would think I would remember feeling bad, but I don't. Looking back, I must have just added that bad feeling to the layer of self-hatred I was building, and promptly ignored it. But I digress.
I did eventually get my GED, I think I was around twenty years old. I began some community college courses and a GED was a requirement. I didn't study, and I got 100% on all tests. I am intelligent. I do love to learn, and I do learn well. It is a huge understatement to say I did not live up to my full potential. I am not being uppity when I say that people are astonished to learn I have an eighth grade education. And yes, I lie on my resumes.
I don't often think "what if". I could have had a completely different life, obviously. But I think it goes without saying that I would not choose that. However, if my skipping school failed to raise enough red flags for a home visit of even a letter to home from the school, then I guess I have to say I am happy to see West Virginia and other states lowering the hammer on truant kids and their parents. I know that for what I was doing each day while skipping school, there are other kids doing (or enduring) much worse. Getting into different and deeper troubles than I was. And maybe not having such a fortunate outcome.
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