Tenth Grade - First Job, Comfortable Year
(Here I am with my unfortunate triangle haircut. I refused to have my hair layered, because my mom had her hair layered and I didn't want to look "old" like her. Sadly, this decision on my part ended me up with a mop of hair quite like a poodle, and when you cut curly hair when it's wet, it only gets even shorter when it's dry. I was not pleased with this harcut.)
I'm participating in a project called Mommy's Piggy Tales, which gives women like me the chance to record their youth in 15 blog posts. It's been a lot of fun and has helped me remember how important the seemingly unimportant things in life were when I was young. If you want to read the others, you will find them here: Birth story, preschool, first grade, second grade, third grade, fourth grade, fifth grade, sixth grade, seventh grade, eight grade, and ninth grade. To participate in the project, click the button at the bottom of this post.
In the summer before ninth grade, I took Spanish I through a summer school option our school offered. I quickly learned that I loved foreign languages. They made so much more sense than our crazy English language! In 10th grade I followed up on that love by taking Spanish II. Not only was I then able to learn more about this very logical language, but I was also able to skip my second high school year of PE class, because they were offered the same hour. It was a win-win situation! I was able to practice my Spanish-Speaking skills on our church’s annual summer trips to Mexico, as pictured below.
Tenth grade was the one year that I hated (violently) math class. Math had always been my favorite subject, and I actually went on to teach it as an adult, but in tenth grade we had to take geometry. Geometry, I still say to this day, is not math. It’s much more like science, and I hated it passionately. Geometry class was the first time I ever received anything lower than a B on a test. I was devastated. Yeah, I was quite a perfectionist.
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The summer before 10th grade was the year I got my first job. I was only 14 at the time, but our school had a summer day camp every year, and I was asked to be one of the workers at it. I loved that job. Even though I already had the desire to be a teacher before taking the job, working with those kids every day solidified in my heart that desire. I worked day camp two summers in a row, and transitioned into a position in the after school program at our Christian school as well. When the size of the day camp shrunk to a point that they no longer needed my help a couple of years later, I was devastated. To this day I look back on that job with a tremendous amount of affection. This was my first job, and it was handed to me on a plate. God has been good, because throughout my life, I have only ever applied for two of my many jobs, and one of those I was a virtual shoe-in for, making the application simply a formality. Most of my primary jobs were literally handed to me.
I must have done well, because when school started the director of the before and after school program asked me to work with the lower elementary after school program. Here is a picture of me with my “kids.” I still remember many, if not all, of their names and personalities.
While I was in no way popular this year or in any of the following years, I think 10th grade was the time when I started being a bit more comfortable with who I was and where I fit in the social ladder. I had a “best” friend, August B, and several other friends as well. I had upper classmen who I looked up to and practically worshipped, and I had a bunch of teachers I respected who encouraging me to keep pressing on with my school work and grades. My parents supported me in most of what I tried, holding my hands when I failed to make a spot in the school play, and cheering me on when I performed in choir and band concerts.
At the end of 10th grade, my best friend told me she would be going to a new school the next year. She did not attend our church, and this was before the days of email and text messaging. Even though we promised to write and call each other, I was smart enough to know that it would not happen. I left 10th grade with a garbage bag full of stuff from my locker in tears, knowing I would “never” talk to my best friend again. In a way I was write. We’ve reconnected via facebook, I attended her graduation, and we’ve somewhat kept in contact over the years, but it was never the same. Little did I know that God would quickly fill that void in the next year.
Going through this project has been good for me as a mom. It has helped me remember that the things that seem so little now were very important to me. Losing my best friend in this manner crushed me emotionally, even though looking back on it the event doesn’t seem like a big deal. I pray that remembering will help me when my children face similar stresses in their lives.
In the summer before ninth grade, I took Spanish I through a summer school option our school offered. I quickly learned that I loved foreign languages. They made so much more sense than our crazy English language! In 10th grade I followed up on that love by taking Spanish II. Not only was I then able to learn more about this very logical language, but I was also able to skip my second high school year of PE class, because they were offered the same hour. It was a win-win situation! I was able to practice my Spanish-Speaking skills on our church’s annual summer trips to Mexico, as pictured below.
Tenth grade was the one year that I hated (violently) math class. Math had always been my favorite subject, and I actually went on to teach it as an adult, but in tenth grade we had to take geometry. Geometry, I still say to this day, is not math. It’s much more like science, and I hated it passionately. Geometry class was the first time I ever received anything lower than a B on a test. I was devastated. Yeah, I was quite a perfectionist.
The summer before 10th grade was the year I got my first job. I was only 14 at the time, but our school had a summer day camp every year, and I was asked to be one of the workers at it. I loved that job. Even though I already had the desire to be a teacher before taking the job, working with those kids every day solidified in my heart that desire. I worked day camp two summers in a row, and transitioned into a position in the after school program at our Christian school as well. When the size of the day camp shrunk to a point that they no longer needed my help a couple of years later, I was devastated. To this day I look back on that job with a tremendous amount of affection. This was my first job, and it was handed to me on a plate. God has been good, because throughout my life, I have only ever applied for two of my many jobs, and one of those I was a virtual shoe-in for, making the application simply a formality. Most of my primary jobs were literally handed to me.
I must have done well, because when school started the director of the before and after school program asked me to work with the lower elementary after school program. Here is a picture of me with my “kids.” I still remember many, if not all, of their names and personalities.
While I was in no way popular this year or in any of the following years, I think 10th grade was the time when I started being a bit more comfortable with who I was and where I fit in the social ladder. I had a “best” friend, August B, and several other friends as well. I had upper classmen who I looked up to and practically worshipped, and I had a bunch of teachers I respected who encouraging me to keep pressing on with my school work and grades. My parents supported me in most of what I tried, holding my hands when I failed to make a spot in the school play, and cheering me on when I performed in choir and band concerts.
(Here i am talking on the phone, most likely to Kristel P, the only person I ever really spent much time on the phone with that year. We worked together in the daycare and she was one of the upper classmen I really looked up to. I was always terrified of the phone, so this was a big accomplishment for me. Notice the long cord on the phone-we could never be far from the receiver when having a long conversation. Cordless phone batteries didn't keep a charge that long.)
At the end of 10th grade, my best friend told me she would be going to a new school the next year. She did not attend our church, and this was before the days of email and text messaging. Even though we promised to write and call each other, I was smart enough to know that it would not happen. I left 10th grade with a garbage bag full of stuff from my locker in tears, knowing I would “never” talk to my best friend again. In a way I was write. We’ve reconnected via facebook, I attended her graduation, and we’ve somewhat kept in contact over the years, but it was never the same. Little did I know that God would quickly fill that void in the next year.
Going through this project has been good for me as a mom. It has helped me remember that the things that seem so little now were very important to me. Losing my best friend in this manner crushed me emotionally, even though looking back on it the event doesn’t seem like a big deal. I pray that remembering will help me when my children face similar stresses in their lives.
If you would like to learn about the next installment of Mommy's Piggy Tales, which will probably be shorter than this one and have a new slant or something, please check out the blog below:
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