Who am I? Part #3: Young Adult

I nearly missed going to nursing school as my parents told me during my senior year in high school that there was no money. But God provided and I received a grant via the high school principal. The stipulations included: 

1.   Must maintain a B+ average.

           2.  Must meet with the principal every semester.

           3.  Must never ask about the source of the money.

I complied. Everything was paid except $100 in my senior year, due after graduation.

For these 3 years, I earned money by babysitting- usually for doctors' children- or by working as an aide at the hospital. Thus, I rarely joined my classmates to go shopping. 

Classmate Suzanne realized why I didn't join in and she began  leaving small amounts of money under my jewelry box. Now I could  buy a soda and join my classmates for popcorn She even took me by train to her home in Detroit for a weekend. Her parents treated me as if I was a VIP guest.

During freshman year I had awful roommates. Both were disliked by everyone. Because I endured without complaining, I was given a private room during my junior and senior years. What a deal!

Nursing school was hard and I studied most of my waking hours. It was worth it as I proudly walked down the aisle for the graduation mass on May 30th. The bishop pinned our school pin on, the chairman of the board handed us our diploma and everyone congratulated us. We all wore the graduation white uniform we had chosen several months prior. Our cap had a black velvet stripe. We were GNs- graduate nurses.

I took my state boards in October and scored well. Now I was a RN! My dream since 2nd grade had come true.

                                                                                                                                                          To Be Continued                                                                                                                    

Who Am I? Part 2: Adult Provokes Child

When I was nine, we moved into a 2-story house with a big front porch surrounded by popcorn bushes. Inside was a huge surprise for me: an old upright piano that had been left behind in a small sitting room. 

We had moved out of the first floor of a rented house right across from the parsonage next to the little white church on the corner. 

The minister's 2 daughters taught me how to read music and play their baby grand piano. They were leaving for college and told my mother I was ready for a piano teacher after the upright piano was tuned.

My mother announced a piano teacher would be coming to meet us. I understood later that her criteria was that he or she would come to our house and was cheap. I never heard the phrase "You get what you pay for." But I saw it happen.

This man never tested me to determine where I needed to start. He just gave me book one and I was  instructed to work on the first two songs. I was able to play the whole book in one sitting. 

Every week he brought a new book and my mother was getting very upset paying for them. Then he brought me.one song and laughed saying, "Bet you can't play this one."

It was written in octaves- meaning my right hand had to stretch across eight keys. As an adult, I can barely do that. As a nine-year-old it was impossible. I could play it using the top or bottom of the melody- just not both at the same time.

The next lesson he arrived grinning. He delighted at beating me; "I knew you couldn't play this one!"

Too bad I didn't know Ephesians 6:4a back then:

Piano Teacher, do not provoke your

child/student to anger,

[my paraphrase]

OR

Colossians 3:21, KJV

Fathers, provoke not your children to anger,

lest they be discouraged.

My teacher laughed and laughed. I yelled louder though and threw him out the front door! Literally! My mother came running and boy, I was in big trouble. I've never regretted it even though that was the end of my piano lessons. I was not going to be discouraged. I was going to learn how to play,  

I learned that I had a line when crossed forced me to act. Although I hated confrontation, I could stand up for myself. It was an important lesson I would need in life. As a child, I could advocate for others better than for myself.

As an adult, I taught myself to play the piano and found that I was very good at sight-reading. [Playing accurately without seeing the music ahead of time.] My friend, Alene, was asked to sing at various women's functions. She often phoned to ask me to accompany her. I always asked why she didn't call me sooner?

 "Honey, You can handle it." 

And I usually did, but a bit of practice would have been better for my anxiety level.