My Journey to Getting a GED at almost 50

Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs. I’m not shy about talking about my time leaving home and supporting myself as a street hustler, doing things a 16-year-old had no business doing. My real struggle came in high school. I never got to finish because of the homophobia I faced from my principal and guidance counselors. Their prejudice made an already tough time even harder. When I returned home after my journey and tried to resume my public education, I would have only been a year behind. But the principal, Frank Lay, told me I couldn’t come back because my ideas and the way I am would be like an infection within the student body. My dad sided with Frank Lay, not knowing the actual words spoken to me. When I told my dad that Frank Lay said I could not return to school and that I wanted to take it up with the school system, my dad’s reply was to leave it alone. He said they did well by my sister and it might be for the best that I don’t go back anyway. I was basically forced to leave school and give up my right to public education without a diploma. Years later, Frank Lay was the subject of not one but two lawsuits brought by the American Civil Liberties Union aka the ACLU. During my freshman and sophomore years, I had numerous run ins with Lay and the rest of the school staff. One day I will share a full account of my high school experience as well as stories regarding some things going on at school, no holds barred. The only person in the office who treated me fairly was a sweet secretary named Nita Reed, who also at times worked in the library. Fast forward to today, and here I am at 48, finally taking steps to get my GED.

One of the biggest blessings in this journey has been the company I currently work for. They’ve been incredibly supportive, not just emotionally but financially too. They’re covering the costs of my lessons and the tests, which has taken a huge weight off my shoulders and inspired me to finish high school, even though I’ve done well without a diploma. It’s amazing to work for a company that genuinely cares about personal growth and success.

So far, I’ve managed to pass the science, language arts, and social studies tests. Each one was a hurdle, but I got through them with a lot of hard work and a bit of luck. The feeling of passing those tests was incredible, like reclaiming a part of my life that I thought was lost forever. It’s been a mix of relief and pride, knowing that I’m capable of achieving this. For so many years, I felt like I shouldn’t bother investing the time, energy, and money.

Now, I’m staring down the final test: math. Math has always been my Achilles’ heel, and it’s even more daunting now because the curriculum has changed so much since I was in school. The thought of tackling it is terrifying, but I’m determined to push through. I’ve been putting in extra hours of study, and I’m hopeful that with enough preparation, I’ll be able to conquer this last challenge.

This journey has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but it’s also been incredibly rewarding. I’m grateful for the support I’ve received and proud of the progress I’ve made. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s never too late to chase your dreams and make them a reality. Here’s to passing that math test and finally getting my GED!

Discovering the Truth About My Middle & High School Bully

High school was a rough time for me, especially being gay in an environment that wasn’t always accepting. The administration, including the principal, Frank Lay, as well as counselors and other staff members at Pace High School, advised me and other queer students never to confirm our sexuality. I dealt with the same thing at Pace Middle School but on a more low-key level. I faced a lot of bullying and name-calling because I wasn’t exactly like the other boys. For years, I harbored resentment towards a kid in my grade named Kyle Norris, who I believed, and was led to believe by others, was the main culprit of a prank that went on for several weeks. The graffiti in the boys’ bathroom with my name on it and the love letters to Jason McBride, who I never even liked, were just a few of the humiliations I endured.

The graffiti was the start. Seeing my name scrawled on the bathroom wall with a sexual message directed at someone I had no interest in was like a punch to the gut when I walked in to see it. Kyle had come out of the bathroom and made a beeline directly to me to inform me that there was something in the bathroom that I needed to see. It felt like there was no escape from the constant ridicule. Shortly thereafter, there were the love letters to Jason McBride. Someone thought it would be funny to sign my name to them, making it look like I had a crush on him. It was mortifying, especially since I had no feelings for Jason at all. At one point, I was called into the office of Herb Cannon, our assistant principal. Herb presented himself as a bigoted judge with the assumption of guilt and threatened to get the police involved with the accusation of harassment. What really upset me was the fact that he mentioned he knew my family really well and knew they would be really ashamed of this situation. My sister was close with Herb; he was her basketball coach for a few years, taught her how to drive, and helped her get her driver’s license. I was mortified and never mentioned any of this to my family, though I now realize I should have. It’s interesting looking back, seeing the way that people who were in a position to help were blinded by their own bigotry.

For years, I blamed Kyle Norris for all of this. I was convinced he was the one behind the bullying because he always seemed to be the messenger when something would happen. I recently told my friend Jenny Reeves, who has remained friends with Kyle since high school, that every time I thought about high school, my anger towards him would flare up. Jenny decided it was time to clear the air between Kyle and me, and he and I chatted for hours, not only about the situation but our lives during and after school. The truth: Kyle was innocent. He wasn’t the person or connected to the people who tormented me. Kyle was simply the messenger or an individual who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a shocking revelation that turned the way I thought of some of the people I went to school with upside down.

Finding out that Kyle wasn’t my bully was a mix of emotions. On one hand, I felt relief knowing that Kyle was innocent and I had wrongly accused him. On the other hand, I was angry at myself for holding onto that resentment for so long and letting it block my chance of a friendship that could have been. This shows how important it is to get the facts before jumping to conclusions.

This experience has taught me a lot about forgiveness and letting go of the past. It’s not easy to move on from the pain of bullying, but holding onto anger only hurts you in the long run. I’m still processing everything, but I’m hopeful that this new understanding will help me heal and move forward. Now that I’ve cleared the air with Kyle, we are actually friends. With all this said, some good things came out of the love letter situation. I became friends with Terry Kelly, another gay boy in middle school, and we shared each other’s secrets. I began to trust people less, which helped me become less gullible, and I learned how to see through people’s facades. Now that Kyle is no longer negatively living in my head rent-free, I wonder who the actual culprits were during my middle school years.