This is the story of my journey, from the bottom to the top. It is much longer than my usual posts, but it was a long journey from where I have been, to where I am now.
When my son was a year and a half old, I separated from his father. (See here for the explanation on that: (
Why I couldn't choose to be straight). I went on welfare (also known as social assistance in the US, I think), but it was such a pitiful amount of money, and I knew I could not be happy in that environment. At my mother's urging, I went to speak to the academic advisers at the local college, to talk about enrollment. They checked my transcripts and told me I needed English 12. I had graduated high school with English 11 only, and 12 was required for admission. So I contacted the local adult education school and learned that the course I needed cost $350.00.
I wanted to apply, and take the upgrade course, but I didn't have $350.00 I needed to register. I spoke to my worker at welfare, but there was no budget for courses of any kind and I certainly didn't have $350.00 laying around. I think they probably gave me $800.00 or $900.00 a month all together to survive on. I didn't have $350.00 to pay for English 12, and I couldn't move forward.
So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I wrote a letter. First I wrote a letter to my worker telling her why I needed the $350.00 for the course, so that I could upgrade my English, and enroll into College, and get off welfare.
The response was that while this was a great idea, there was no money for it. So I wrote another letter, to her boss, telling her boss what I needed, and how I intended to get off welfare, and enroll in college. Sure, I'd be on student loans, but I could get off welfare. I had a baby to take care of, and we couldn't live on the income I could make as a single mom working at a gas station. (I did try).
I was told by my worker's boss that I needed to write another letter, which would go to a committee for approval. I wrote that letter, outlining my career goals and intentions, and it was accepted. I was granted the $350.00 for the English 12 course I needed to take before I could apply to college. The cheque was to be written out directly to the school, just in case I was ready to take the money for myself.
So I took the course. I put my baby (2 years old by now) into daycare, which was subsidized by the government for low income families, and I took English 12. I was so thankful. I learned how to write an essay, and to write a block style letter. I loved it. And I worked my ass off, coming in to class when I was so sick, even, to complete assignments. I didn't have a computer at home, so I needed to go into school to do the assignments. I was the oldest student there at the time. The other students were mostly high school drop outs with issues of authority. I was out of place, but I did my best. I got an A in the class and marched my transcripts up to the local college.
I applied, and I was accepted as a mature student. I didn't know what I wanted to take, I was just happy to be there. I felt like I finally fit in somewhere, walking up and down the street sized walk ways. There were students at College who were older than me. There were other parents here. There were young kids who still lived at home with their parents, sure. But I belonged. I was a student. And I was finally off welfare.
I had no idea what I wanted to DO with my education, and the academic counselor recommended I try a few different things in the "University transfer" program. That included a huge range of courses such as philosophy, psychology, English, Anthropology, Accounting, Geography, Japanese,etc and 25 other subjects, and they would all be transferable to University, if I ever wanted to go in that direction. I registered for a Philosophy class, a Psychology class, and a Computer Science class.
I dropped my kid off at daycare and bused over an hour into school every day to work my ass off. I got straight A's in that first year. I busted my ass. I became an expert at applying for student loans and navigating the registration system. I absolutely loved the Psych 101 class "Issues in Contemporary Psychology" class, and decided to take more of those. I was also enjoyed English, and took a bunch of those.
After a year, I was told that I had the pre-requisites I required to get into the local university, so I nervously applied. I was accepted. I met with an academic counselor who was very kind and sat with me in his office to look at my transcripts. He saw the psych courses on my transcripts and encouraged me to take more of those, so I did.
A year after that, I applied for the Co-op program. The Co-op program is a program in addition to your studies that included work experience for a semester with an academic portion. My GPA was good, and I got in.
On top of my full time course load, and on top of being a single mother, I sat in on the Co-op meetings once a week and learned how to write a resume, how to interview for a job, and what a good cover letter looks like. After a semester of that, I was ready to find my first co-op job.
I applied to a bunch of things and didn't get any interviews. Then I saw a Government job that talked about writing a technical manual for a program I'd never heard of called Oracle Discoverer. I had never even heard of Oracle Discoverer, so definitely did not have experience they explicitly requested. But I applied anyways. I was honest in my cover letter and resume that I didn't have experience with that program, but that I was a good writer, and I was willing to learn.
Turns out, no one had experience with Oracle Discoverer, so I got an interview. To demonstrate my willingness to learn, I had gone to the local public library and borrowed a book called "Oracle for Dummies" and brought it with me. They liked my keenness in the interview, and I got the job.
I did a 4 month work term with them as planned, and then they hired me back for a second work term. When they couldn't put me on any more co-op terms, they put me on as a contractor. I was studying full time, being a single mother, and working as a contractor for the Government. My house was a mess, so I hired a friend to wash my dishes once a week and vacuum my disgusting floor. My kid (then 4) was in daycare full time and I struggled to make time for him. I struggled to keep my grades up. I struggled. But I couldn't fail.
I finished the contract and got hired for the summer as a research analyst with the Government again. I was not studying for the summer, so it was easier to have the evenings to myself and my son without a text book looming over my head, but the daytime hours were very long. I would drop my son off at daycare at 8:00am, before most of the other kids had arrived, and I would pick him up at 5:30 or 6. He was the last kid to be picked up every night. It was an extremely long day for both of us. Thankfully he went to his Dad's place on Thursday and Friday. But even then, it was such a struggle. It was hard hard work.
I went back to school again in the fall, and so the hours improved but my schedule was still havoc. Another contract came along and I was working and studying again. The money was good, but I still relied heavily on student loans.
It took me 6 years, from start to finish to complete my degree this way, not including the academic upgrading before College. My grades were shot near the end, but I was passing.
I started the path so that I could do something, anything better than what I was doing. I did it for my boy, so that he could have more in his life than I could have done pumping gas as a gas station attendant. I worked my ass off, missed so much of his early years, so that we could have more, as a family. He was my inspiration, and when I was in the thick of it, and I would picture graduation, I would cry. I would cry knowing that I did it for him.
I finished my Bachelor of Arts in Psychology. I graduated. I made it. I needed him to be at that ceremony. I needed him to see me in my cap and gown, on the stage, receiving that degree. My mother was there with him, and they bought roses to hand to me. He looked so proud of me, and I was so proud. I was so proud of him too, because it was his journey too. He saw me studying, working my ass off, and he lost things for it. I couldn't always play with him. I couldn't do the play dates, and soccer, and I even missed parent teacher interviews. I couldn't pick him up after school. So my degree was his degree too. His success as well. And he was so proud of me.
Our children need to see us doing our best. They need to see us kick ass, and push ourselves, and become more. They need to see us be successful. I believe that he will be successful and strong.
I was recently laid off, but I know that I will be successful. I have lived through hard times, and I am strong. I can do difficult things, and I can do them well. I have the best motivation in the world, and it is that precious and beautiful boy that is my son.
What does it mean when someone says "That's so gay"? We hear this phrase all the time. In use it is akin to "That's so lame" or "That's so dumb". Often, the people who use the phrase don't intend to insult gay people and just think it's a catchy, kind of funny phrase. But the phrase "That's so gay" equates the word gay with being lame or being dumb. The phrase means that being gay is uncool, even if that's not the intended message. 
