School has started back up here in Michigan. It technically started on August 26th (last week). But I thought I would reminisce about my school days and how they shaped my career choice of being a poet and up-and-coming smut writer.
Humble Beginnings
One memory that remains in my head to this day is of when I first learned how to read. I was in first grade, and my teacher, Mrs. E., had us read a sign in her classroom. It said, “You Can Read!” I remember when I read it, I was super excited! I rushed home after school and told my mom that I could actually read!
I always enjoyed being read to. But now I could actually read the stories I adored! I didn’t need someone to read to me anymore! We learned how to read by reading Dick, Jane, and Sally stories. We would also bring in a book to read to the class every Friday. The teacher handpicked us to bring in a book we liked to read in front of the class. I remember when it was my turn. I brought in a book from my mom’s Parent magazine book club subscription. It was about a girl and her grandfather going on a wacky vacation. It was silly and one of my many favorites from that book club subscription.
When I got up there, Mrs. E. asked me if I could read the book. I nodded my head assuredly. But when I opened to the first page, I had a hard time pronouncing the word “guess”, which was the first word on the page. One of my classmates called me out and said I didn’t know how to read. The teacher told me to enunciate, and eventually I got the hang of it and read the book without further problems.
I loved our English and Grammer lessons in school. The one thing I didn’t like was penmanship classes. I struggled with my handwriting. It was part of my autism. I had a hard time gripping the pencil correctly, and I would make my S’s backwards.
Getting me to practice my penmanship was like pulling teeth. My mom or my grandma would work with me every night, clenching my hand, and we would practice for about an hour, plus do my penmanship homework. I would sit there and cry, “You’re hurting me!” and my mom wasn’t even gripping that tightly on my hand. My grandma was gentler, and I got along better with her for working on my handwriting. My mom though, she wouldn’t let me play until we got my penmanship work done.
Writing Short Stories
Eventually, I got my penmanship nailed down by the end of first grade. That summer, I discovered I loved writing stories. I would write short stories and turn them into “books”. Of course, I never finished the stories, and I eventually lost them with my childhood relics. In second grade, I remember I wanted to put on a puppet show with my friends. I wrote a “script”. It was hilarious; I remember a lot of my classmates laughing at the show. My friends didn’t really want to perform it, but they did anyway out of the kindness of their hearts. Or maybe the teacher made them. Who knows?
Come third grade is when I was told I had a knack for writing. Mrs. Welch, my third-grade teacher, always found my short story sentences, which I created using our weekly spelling words, amusing. I originally wanted to be an artist (drawing was another favorite thing of mine to do). But I wasn’t as good of an artist as other kids in my class were. Mrs. Welch cultivated my writing skills in me. And then, my chosen profession went from being an artist to being an author.
Junior High & High School
I would say junior high is when my writing really slumped. I wasn’t really interested in writing short stories anymore. But I had discovered writing erotica. My friend Jennie, and I would write short stories about our crushes and create “erotic scenes”. Sort of like Tina from Bob’s Burgers “Erotic Friend Fiction”.
I also remember wanting to join the yearbook committee, but my English grades weren’t up to par. I had a C average. You had to have at least a B- or better to be on the yearbook committee. Also, my 7th grade English teacher didn’t seem to enjoy my writing as much as my other English teachers did later on and in the past. Mrs. Martz’s class was tough. I remember reading a story and learning the words “ajar” and “adjacent”. I thought, “How am I supposed to remember these words?!” I felt heartbroken when I found out I didn’t make the cut for the yearbook committee in eighth grade. I think this is a hidden hurt I’ve carried with me for a long time. It still didn’t make me doubt my confidence. I knew I could write. Just I struggled with reading and comprehending what I read. And that is probably when ADHD was just developing within me. But ADHD wasn’t what it is today. ADHD or ADD diagnoses mainly went to rambunctious, troublemaking boys. I was neither a boy, nor a troublemaker, nor rambunctious. So I was never a candidate for ADHD screening or ADD.
Depression Not Otherwise Specified Diagnosis & Poetry
In February 1998, I received a diagnosis of depression, not otherwise specified. I took Paxil, and I went to therapy every two weeks. I was dealing with suicidal thoughts from being severely picked on by my neighbor / ex-crush Matt, who made my life a living hell. And I also made his life a living hell, too, probably. A few classmates (mostly Matt’s friends) picked on me as well. I endured their picking on me since kindergarten. Mostly, other kids picked on me because I was the weird, cheerful kid. My parents bought me new clothes, my parents volunteered at school and took an interest in my school career. In short, my parents parented. A lot of my classmates came from single-parent homes. And a lot of the parents didn’t parent their kids. I think kids were mostly jealous of me. But anyway, we’re getting off the subject.
I discovered writing poetry during my freshman year of high school. It was how I knew how to cope. My other outlet? Was writing erotica on Literotica while underage. Only this time, it wasn’t “Erotic Friend Fiction”. It was just random stories I made up in my head to please the older men I talked to on AOL. That was how I escaped everything. AOL was my outlet. AOL and writing.
During sophomore year, we had to write a paper on a career we wanted to pursue when we were adults. We had to research the career, interview people who actually did these jobs, and write, I think, a five-page paper? I can’t remember. When Ms. Mathews, my English teacher, said we could pick any career, I couldn’t decide between marriage counselor and romance author. I went with Romance Author. I learned authors earn little unless they get published traditionally. It was more passion than money a lot of them talked about. Now I had to interview an actual author.
Luckily, my therapist, Kim, had a client who published an anthology of poems. She gave me her book, and I contacted her. I didn’t tell her I was Kim’s client, or that Kim had given me her book. I remember very little about the interview. I still think of her to this day, although I can’t remember for the life of me her name or her book. I would love to get back in touch with her years later and give her a copy of my book GROWTH: A Healing Journey of Poetry and Prose. And I would really love to read her book again.
Continuing on to my sophomore year, Ms. Mathews really enjoyed my writing. I remember we did a newspaper mock-up assignment, and I created an advice column. She got a kick out of it, and she recommended me to the high school’s journalism program and to focus on doing the high school newspaper. I enrolled in Beginning Journalism as I was qualified for the class. Unfortunately, I maintained a D average in that class and couldn’t sign up for the newspaper. Once again, laziness and a lack of work ethic prevented me from achieving another dream. My only “A” in the class was an article I wrote to be submitted to the newspaper about my grandpa Jim Tate. It didn’t get picked to be published in the newspaper.
College & Beyond
I eventually graduated from high school. Barely. But I did it! I attended college at Baker College in Flint, Michigan. I was stuck in choosing a major. I wanted to focus on secondary education with a focus on English and a minor in history. I also had a new interest in web design. I loved designing websites for fun. I thought I could actually make a career out of designing websites (you all know how that turned out!). And then my parents wanted me to be an administrative assistant. They thought that was a job I could easily handle. What did I pick? Web Design! I remember in one actual web design class I got a B+. The rest of my classes - C’s, D’s, and F’s. The university placed me on academic probation. And I dropped out. I didn’t want to go to college anyway. I wanted to jump immediately into writing. The summer I graduated high school, I was writing a novel titled Players Don’t Fall In Love. I had written about eighteen chapters before my computer crashed and erased my file. I gave up my dream of becoming a writer. Instead, I focused on how I am going to make a living when my parents are dead and gone. I got my first adult job at a heating and cooling company and was content with it. I had health insurance, a 401k, and paid vacation. What more could I ask for? I thought for sure I had job security. Which is something my dad wanted most for me. And still wants for me to this day.
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