Entrance Essay take 1

"Shhhhhhh!" my sister hissed, finger tight to lips. "There's someone at the door!" she mouthed. All action froze, all movement ceased. We were champs at Red-light Green-light. In between schools, again. This scenario happened multiple times. Of course the person knocking could only have been a) a Truant Officer, b) the Health Department, c) the Collection Agency, d) the Auditor, or e) Child Protective Services. Often we would scamper, blinds drawn, to the back of the house avoiding any hard tattling foot falls and wait until the coast was clear. Fears as installed by an undereducated mother.

So much of my early schooling was spent this way. "Home school." Mom running errands. Dad in Alaska or out trying to drum up business for his refrigeration repair company, a one man show.

We were withdrawn from public school part way through my first grade year partly due to the Ramona, the Pest books being read in my older sister's class room. But, possibly more because in addressing the situation with the teacher and the Principal my mom had become offended and loosed her wrath--a venomous cocktail of tirade, tantrum and just plain ugly. Don't cross R.H.

Somehow we bounced from private school to private school, all religious, all running into the same problem. They crossed whatever invisible line set off mom grabbing her kids out of school mid term. I don't recall ever finishing a grade in elementary school.

Things were bad financially in Seattle in the early 80's. Dad was out of work completely or he was often away in Alaska working on fishing boats. Mom was slipping into some severe illnesses, some mental, some physical. Her house began to fill with stuff. Pathways around the house were harnessed with unwashed clothes, trash that never was taken out, collections of junk, multiple animals. My father couldn't seem to keep jobs, he was later diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder caused by some occurrences in Vietnam. Perhaps because of Mom's unbridled tongue, our neighbors pulled out our shrubbery, shot pellets through our windows and tried to set the house on fire. My mom fled the neighborhood and set up camp at a church owned property in the wilds of Washington state. To my sisters and I, this seemed like fun--camping in the mountains. Dad would join us whenever he could.

The house in Fall City was foreclosed. We moved east to Cle Elum. Because of some incorrect accusations we moved to Ellensburg. We lived in the Branding Iron Motel and later the trailer park behind it. Part of my fourth and all of my 5th grade years were spent playing "home school." I recall sitting my sisters down, playing teacher and giving assignments out of our school books. These were actual instruments of learning procured at a private school in Ellensburg when we had finally settled into a sweet little house. Mom had started a candy shop, and Dad was still trying to keep his business in Seattle going. And so, with no parental guidance or supervision the draw of the rope swing, Barbie, or the The Love Boat far surpassed any schoolwork. After a few months that house, too, was repossessed. We moved in to a few small rooms behind the candy shop. When the candy shop failed, we moved into the warehouse where our furniture was stored. There were so many more things to worry about, other than school!

Things became desperate when the man who owned the warehouse discovered my family living there. Mom went to Wenatchee to find a temp job as a receptionist. We all moved into the homeless shelter where she was living. Later we moved in with a family from church for a few months until mom could come up with enough money for a down payment on a mobile home. My sisters and I started school at Wenatchee Adventist Junior Academy. I was in 6th grade. My sisters and I worked as cleaning crew after school to defer the costs. My study skills were abominable but I persisted. I learned so much from the kindness that was shown to my family during the three years at that school. Hugh Winn, the principal, was so gentle and good with my mom. She trusted him enough to keep us in his school.

My first time back to public school was for 9th grade; in East Wenatchee, that meant junior high. I don't know what changed that year for us, other than Dad was working full time at a branch of University of Washington and we were able to buy a house. At this point I wish I could say I graduated with honors. But I did not. I loved my classes. I loved to learn, but I had very little practice at getting assignments in on time, no parental support to do well, and no understanding of how much I was depriving myself. I was an outstanding student in the arts--theater, writing, painting, drawing entirely consumed me, but I was terrible at turning in assignments. I learned to sew when I was 15. It was like turning on the lights in my life. I sewed so much and turned in so much that the Home Ec teacher had to rewrite her grading system. Of the 500 points it took to get an A in her class, I got over 1800 points.

Somehow I graduated high school and went to Ricks College (now Brigham Young University-Idaho). Through out my life I had felt so isolated from having friends by my mother's irrational behavior. When I first got to college I was swept away in a whirlwind of new friends, new classmates, new thoughts, new me! I loved my classes but like Bode Miller, I blew off the Olympics for the Olympic parties. By the time I had settled into a lifestyle of learning I was on academic probation with suspension looming in the foreground. I shaped up. I was getting myself together. And a good friend committed suicide. It rocked my world. I struggled with a deep untreated depression, lost 40 pounds, and struggled with thoughts of my own demise--all this and I was still fighting battles at home. Suspended? I was. Depressed? Yes. Failed? Not on your life! I continued classes at the Extended Education Department and got back into school full time to finish up my Associate of Arts degree in Fashion Design and Production.

My depression broke one night before my last year as I was meditating and praying. I felt God's love overpower me and I knew I needed to share that love by serving as a missionary for Him. I did that in Australia in 1993-1994. This was my real training for my marathon life. I learned so much about endurance and perseverance. This was an amazing experience.

When I returned I knew I needed to go back to school. I had so many friends attending school in Utah, I decided that would be a great place for me to go. I packed all my belongings in the back of a friend's Bronco and with $500 in the bank set off for a new life. I applied to BYU. I later worked in the costume shop there, I taught the Into to Theater sewing class, but I could not be a student there--too many credits, not enough GPA. I did learn a lot about costume construction in their costume shop.

After having seen lives change and being part of so much personal growth in Australia, I felt a need to help others. For two years I worked in the Crisis Unit at Heritage Schools, a Residential Treatment Center for troubled teens. I loved my work. I was able to touch lives there, as a leader among kids who really needed leading. I was Employee of the Month twice. But the need to continue my education nagged at me.

I began attending classes at Utah Valley State College (now Utah Valley University). My education was haphazard. I took classes that I was interested in and enjoyed including Russian. I made the Dean's list! From January-April 1998 I spent a semester in Arctic Russia teaching English to school children. This was a really special opportunity through the United Way. I walked on icepack for 3 months, never touching the ground and never feeling the warmth of the sun. I was the only native English speaker for about 500 miles. The woman I stayed with, Tatiana, taught about 70 hours a week at different local schools and colleges. At night she would tell me what it was like before the Cold War ended. She cried a lot--me, too.

When I returned another opportunity presented its self. I was able to assist with costumes for a period film, a documentary for my church. I traveled across the U.S. and part of Canada with the crew as wardrobe assistant for 8 weeks. This was a wacky, fun, wild experience and I learned a lot. This experience opened the door for me at BYU, as a stitcher in their costume shop. I gradually became a First Hand to the men's tailor. I met my John in October that year, we married the following April.

As a young married I worked for Utah Valley State College as their Costume Shop Manager. This was so much a sink or swim situation! I felt I had so little experience in a costume shop! But I perfected my Butterfly stroke and was awarded Staff of the Year in 2000-2001 school year. Part of my experience there was teaching college students to sew. One holiday season I offered my time and abilities to anyone who wanted to learn to sew. We made over 180 stuffed animals, toys and dolls which we donated to the local Women in Crisis Shelter. I took classes sporadically, however I was also working at Utah Opera, BYU's costume shop, designing for local theaters and bits of contract film work--as well as playing adoring and supportive wife to my husband who was in school full time and working at BYU. Life was busy and so very good! I have never missed a deadline in my professional life.

When John graduated we packed up the house and came to California for work. In September of 2004 I began working at Opera Pacific as First Hand to the Men's Cutter/Draper. Within four years I was promoted to Head Cutter. The opera's last show was my time to shine. It was a beautiful show. I also work for American Ballet Theater in New York, South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa and at the UC Irvine costume shop.

I love my work. I love what I do! I am compelled toward higher education. I have learned from my experiences throughout my life and want to share what I have learned with others. My goal in life is to teach what I know at a university level. In order to do this, I must finish my degree in Theater Arts and go on to gain my Masters and possibly my Doctorate in Costumes . I have persisted and striven for excellence in my life. I am proud of my persistence. My life has been a beautiful journey. I have come so far, I have so far to go, I am grateful for where I am. I will close now with a quote by Ralf Waldo Emerson, "That which we persist in doing becomes easier, not that the task itself has become easier, but that our ability to perform it has improved." Thus is my life.