Until the second quarter of my third grade year, I was just a normal, blonde-haired, brown-eyed, middle-class kid; then, my parents got divorced. The funny thing was: my parents never fought. Besides the one time that Mom and Dad argued over what kind of cream cheese to buy from Wal-Mart, I had never witnessed them quarrel. The counselor always taught students how to deal with divorce when parents fought, but I had no idea what to do because my parents didn’t. It didn’t make sense. Why would my parents get divorced if they never fought? “We just fell out of love.” A few weeks after Mom moved out, she took her eight-year-old, blonde-haired daughter into the living room and made her different. My mom sat down on the floor with me, in front of the Christmas tree, and taught me what “gay” meant. My mom was gay. ""
Divorce meant change. Aside from adjusting to the game of catch between Mom and Dad, I had to adjust to my mother’s newly outed sexuality. On weekdays I stayed at Dad’s house. Mom’s efforts in seeking the pinnacle of her corporate possibilities kept her away from home throughout my childhood. Most nights, Mom worked into the late evening. While she worked, Dad and I cooked and read and played. Her nonexistence through my adolescence made her absence after the divorce less of a burden on me. Every other weekend I stayed with Mom, whom lived in the apartment connected to her mom’s garage. The unfamiliarity of Mom’s new living arrangement disturbed the safety I loved about the comfortable conventionality of home. My parents’ divorce taught me to hate change. Nothing about their divorce brought good change.
Around Christmastime, Dad let me count the loose change that he saved through the year. After I finished counting the change, he let me keep some. Before my first divorced Christmas, I counted Dad’s change on the kitchen counter. As I started counting the pennies, Dad reluctantly shuffled toward my counting station. He stopped my progress with worried hesitation. My dad was gay, too.
Every day, the worry of anyone and everyone judging my family occupied the whole of my mind. The hardest task of every day was ignoring my obsessions over my family’s secret. My fixation commonly distracted my attention from schoolwork, making focus impossible in class. The defensive attitude formed from my insecurities induced social inadequacies that tainted my ability to involve myself in successful friendships.
Since Dad was a teacher, the rumors of his sexuality hastily spread through the schools. Unfortunately, Farmington, Missouri was the home of countless intolerant evangelicals that widely ostracized homosexuality. The friends that were not close enough to be with me every weekend stopped talking to me. I lost the respect of acquaintances because their parents warned them about my parents’ sinful indulgences, as if their sexual habits were a reflect of my character. The loss of my peers’ good graces turned me to question my parents. Perhaps the general population of Farmington was correct to shun my family. Perhaps my parents were destined to burn in eternal hellfire for disobeying God’s will. I turned to Jesus in my confusion.
The Word of Life Church of Farmington graciously accepted me into their family without hesitation. The impressionable, lonely years of middle school left me yearning for friends, and God offered them to me in His house. Every Sunday, Pastor Leon preached of the implied themes of God’s Word. The Bible fashioned my every move in more than a year of religious devotion. Jesus judged me on my devotion and remained objective to any actions of my parents, but as I made my way deeper into the dwellings of the church, my mentors suggested that I leave unfaithful friends behind. These hellions included my nonreligious parents. On the last night that I attended youth services, my teachers warned of man’s fall before Jesus’ coming. “Homosexuals will run rabid in the streets.” I attended my last church service at the Word of Life Church on the following Sunday. I informed Pastor Leon of my impending separation from the church due to differences in moral values. He confidently attempted to persuade me toward the idea that my beliefs must be absurdly incorrect if they differ from those of the church. I denied his charges and never again spoke with Pastor Leon, but although I lost faith in my church, I did not lose faith in my God.
In high school, I won praise for my excellence in music. Finally, I escaped the tyranny of Middle School to a culture of acceptance. In high school, everyone had flaws. High school brought out the worst in people: alcoholism, sexual explicitness, drugs; these substantial faults of the general high school population made significant accomplishments invaluable. My mentors respected me for my talent and drive. I worked diligently to earn the attention of my teachers, and in return, they awarded my efforts with acclaimed responsibilities.
I will leave high school in the top ten percent of my class. Having spent each last Saturday of April between 2004 and 2008 performing at State Music Contest on the campus of Missouri University, I have gained immeasurable experience as well as numerous superior ratings in both vocal and instrumental solos and ensembles. My peers selected me the President of Farmington Choirs and the Vice President of the Farmington Senior High Theatre Guild. Teachers commended me on my leadership through my selection as drum major, membership in the National Honor Society, and the Farmington community’s Rotary Club recognition as one of eight outstanding female leaders of my class. My most treasured accomplishment of my high school career is my positive reception by my peers. I gained immense friendships; but moreover, I pride myself as a positive role model for my confidence and optimism.
In college I will study vocal performance while remaining actively engaged in the musical theatre program. After graduating with a BM, I will pursue an MM in conducting so that while employed as a collegiate choral director, I can maintain a private vocal studio as well. After I find my ideal teaching job, I want to be a musical director of an enormously tolerant church. I want to provide black sheep with a welcoming place to worship that will not condemn wrongdoings, but rather encourage successes. I will use my talents to improve the outlook of jaded youth by creating an atmosphere in which their own talents can flourish and achieve excellence.
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