In my life there have been
numerous “God” incidences. Some of them were trivial others life changing.
When I was 17 and a senior in
high school, I applied for college because that’s what my friends were doing.
There was no expectation in my family that any of us would go to college. There
were then four kids in my family (later five). Dad’s pay barely stretched to
meet the monthly bills. The only person I knew who had graduated from college
was my uncle who went on the G.I. Bill after the Korean War. My cousin went to Kilgore Jr. College and was
a Rangerette for one year before she dropped out and got married. I had always
assumed that after high school I’d just get married and be a housewife like my
mom. Like her, I might work for a while before I had kids.
I took the SAT and ACT tests and
applied to both of the major state universities because that’s what my
classmates were doing. I was accepted to both. One offered a tuition
scholarship. That was wonderful, but it didn’t seem that there would be any way
to use the scholarship. I had no plan. My family had no money to spare. I had
not been working with the school counselors or been in contact with their
university counterparts. I had not really considered even the possibility of
attending college until the last few months of my senior year.
I went to the office and told my
tale of woe to the counselor, Mr. Garcia. On awards night, I was surprised to
learn that I had been awarded a $500 scholarship from a local business. That
was enough to pay for my board and room for the first year of school. I had to
ask for $65 from my parents to finish out the last month.
After that first year, I was able
to work enough during the summer and school year to hang in and finish. There
were times when I had to shake my piggy bank and empty out the last few coins
to eat, but I made it. Jobs turned up on the bulletin board. I was hired sight
unseen to be a camp counselor. There was always just enough.
When my husband was shipped out
to Vietnam in November of 1969, I hadn’t found a job. I had been waiting,
hoping that he’d get assigned somewhere else. I didn’t begin looking for anything
until late in the year. The public school had already filled its positions. I
had worked as a sub at McCurdy School a few days. The day after Bill shipped
out I received a call from the Catholic school. I hadn’t considered applying
there. Would I be interested in interviewing for a job teaching 7th
and 8th grade? Sister Thomas Mary had gotten my name and number from
Mrs. Schutzel who had been a high school counselor. I don’t know how Mrs. S
knew I was back in town, but I happily accepted the position and went to mass
every Friday for the rest of the school year.
