In elementary school, I received a shiny 50 cent piece as first price for a poetry contest. I don't recall whether it was for my grade only, but I do remember the pride I felt when my writing was chosen.
In high school, I recall a meeting with my career counselor. I was placed in higher level English classes, told I would be tutoring in the writing lab (terrifying for a shy introvert - I was able to decline) and being steered toward college. My parents didn't go to college, though I had uncles and aunts who did, and I respected them and their education. But I was scared.
My career counselor asked what I wanted to do. I said I'd like a career where I could write. She said, "Well, in Wisconsin, you could either write for an agricultural magazine or teach English." Since I didn't want to do either of those things, I underwent a series of interest and ability inventories. I met with my career counselor to get the results. "It looks like you should go into social work." Well, my mom did that, and it seemed like a tough road, so I enrolled at our local two-year community college. I tested out of the required English 101 and English 102, and jumped write into an advanced English course. In addition, I signed up for Sociology, Geography, Psychology, and Anthropology. The man who was supposed to provide guidance for me in signing up for classes did not clue me in that it is a bad idea for most freshmen to take more than one 'ology course in their first semester. I tanked.
After a year of struggling through these classes in an atmosphere that felt like high school (lockers, living at home, seeing many of the same people I went to high school with...) I left university life with a very low and ragged grade point average.
My younger sister had just graduated and enrolled in the local technical college to pursue accounting. I had nothing better to do, so I followed suit, even though I had never even balanced a checkbook. Still living at home (now at the ripe old age of 19), I took the required accounting intro courses as well as a required communication class. Halfway through the semester, my communication class teacher, Mrs. Kemp, asked me to stay after. I couldn't imagine what I had done to get in trouble, but that could be the only reason for being asked to stay after class.
Well, she wanted to kindly suggest that I might be bored with accounting. (I honestly don't think I would have made it through a second semester.) Had I considered public relations as a course of study. The University of Oshkosh (UW-O) had a good program.
The angels sang and the orchestra music swelled and that's what I decided to do. I attended UW-O for two years majoring in Journalism and Public Relations before finishing at UW-Stevens Point where I graduated with honors. While there, I took several writing courses with Professor Karlene Ferrante who has remained a mentor and friend. I also got my MA there, with Karlene heading my thesis committee.
Oh, life got so much better once I had a clear direction. I owe a great deal to Mrs. Kemp for her insight.
