Content Warning: Death, drug addiction. 

We have all gone through things that shape us into who we become and when I tell others about my life, I try to see it through their eyes. In short, my story is as follows: I was a fourth-grade dropout, my father was killed when I was 12 years old, I fell in love with a drug addict, and I was pregnant and married by the time I was 16.

I grew up in a small town in Utah, the second of five siblings. I had friends and loved everything about school, but by the fourth grade I was no stranger to bullies. I didn’t escape these experiences unscathed but I knew enough to realize that the bullies were the ones with problems, not me. The bullying quickly bled into other parts of my life as well. I had a crush in the fourth grade and we often teased each other relentlessly, poking and mocking. One day when I reached out to poke him, he turned and kicked me in the stomach so hard I flew over my chair with the wind knocked out of me.

After catching my breath I tried to talk to the teacher but she told me to go back to my seat. I went back to my seat, next to him, and felt utterly stuck. If the teacher wouldn’t help, I had to take matters into my own hands. I began planning what I could do to fix the situation. When I got home the next day, I informed my parents that I would not be going back to school. For a moment I wondered what I would be missing in fifth and sixth grade but ultimately decided that if I knew long division, it was enough to get by in the world.

I have never been one of those people that can be forced to do anything, and I think that’s why Mom didn’t push me to go back. Luckily, Mom was already homeschooling my younger brother because schools at the time were not equipped to teach 7-year-old boys with attention deficit disorder. However, soon after I dropped out, Dad was killed in an accident at the explosives plant in Spanish Fork Canyon.

Our family kind of fell apart. None of us knew how to share our grief so we all went to our own corners and grieved alone. It was hard going places that we normally went with Dad. Everyone seemed to look at us with sadness. They mourned him, and they mourned for us. All of the sympathy was well-intended, but it was hard to keep up with our social circles. The following December, at our church youth activity we were bringing fruit baskets to all the widows. I somehow ended up in the group that went caroling to my own house.

It’s hard to put a timeline on my education since fourth grade. There was homeschooling, a private school, and an alternative high school at Utah Valley State College (UVSC). For various reasons none of these options lasted very long. When I was 15 I decided to apply for a job at the local burger place with the hope that it would get me out of the house, give me a purpose, and help me meet some people my own age. The manager conducted the interview as a walking tour of the restaurant, which was basically one big room with a half wall dividing the customers from the kitchen.

The manager was a large, gruff, and hairy man who stood too close and walked with a humid cloud around him. It seemed to be going fine until he asked the one question I had hoped we could glaze over. “You didn’t put what grade you’re in on your paperwork.” Had I known what grade level I was, or even what grade level I should have been, I would have put something. “Well, I’m homeschooled.” I stuttered. “Homeschooled! Well, can you count?” he bellowed. Horrified, I looked around the room to see that we definitely had the attention of all the employees and customers. With the manager and my audience all waiting for my answer, I reddened and choked out, “Yes.”

 

“Show me!” he said as he hammered his fist on the cash register, making the drawer shoot out. He made up an order and told me to count out the change. Trying to ignore the room full of people that I was inadvertently performing for, I reached for the dollar slot and jumped when he yelled, “No! Start with the change!” I was so confused that I just stood there fidgeting, reaching and withdrawing from the cash drawer. “Look, if you can’t count out change, this isn’t going to work…” I was already headed for the door before he finished. I knew I could have done it if he had shown me what to do. I had never seen the working side of a cash register, and I didn’t know how to count back change starting with the coins. 

 

 

 This was the same year I met Caleb. I didn’t care that he was a drug addict — he was the first guy that liked me for me. Within months I was having the conversation with Mom that I was pregnant, and that we were getting married. Caleb quit doing drugs and after we had been married for a couple of years, decided he needed to do something different or we would never be able to afford anything better than our tiny apartment. He began attending Utah Valley State College and encouraged me to earn my GED.

I remember sitting in the parking lot before I went in to take my assessment test. I knew this test didn’t really matter, that the results would just tell them what areas I needed help in. But I wanted to be better than a fourth-grade dropout. I wrote myself some practice questions on a receipt starting with long division. Frustrated that I couldn’t solve them, I moved to multiplication. When I couldn’t solve the double-digit problem, I became embarrassed that I would have to tell them I could only do single-digit multiplication.

As it turns out, they were very patient with me and never made me feel dumb. I finished my GED just after my 23^rd birthday, and a few years later, when our youngest began attending preschool, Caleb again encouraged me to get more education. I enrolled in my first semester at Utah Valley University (UVU). I graduated a month shy of my 20^th wedding anniversary summa cum laude with a Bachelor of Science in Integrated Studies, with emphases in English and Communication.

Sometimes I think it might be interesting to do life the way “normal people” do. What would it be like to go to high school, hang out with teenagers, get a job flipping burgers, graduate, and go to college while high school is still fresh? Sure, I have had some experiences that don’t follow the expected path — but I don’t know any other way. My life has given me some unique perspectives, but I think we all have interesting stories. It has taken me years to realize I have no regrets. I live an unrepentant life, and I am proud of it.

I am thankful for the journey I was able to take through UVU. It seems so cliché to say I found myself in college, but I really did. Through writing assignments I was able to finally work through my grief over losing Dad. In my communication classes I was able to find ways to improve my marriage. Without UVU’s open enrollment, my husband and I would probably still be living in our small apartment barely getting by.