Earla Transue
I have always had a great desire for learning despite growing up in a working class family with parents who had no regard for education. That mindset influenced my thinking also. I was told, however subliminally, that I was not college material—that was for people of a different, better class. And I bought into it.
I dropped out of school in my junior year of high school. My grades were good and I liked school but my mother needed care and I was the chosen one to do the caring. I married young and had three children but my desire to learn never left me. To this day I get excited over new discoveries of knowledge from diverse subjects. That is to say "new" to me, not necessarily the world in general.
By the time I was twenty-eight years old I could no longer ignore my need to improve myself. I got my GED in Joliet, Illinois and, to my amazement, my five scores ranged from the 86th to the 97th percentile rank in the U.S. It was at that moment that I began to realize that I did not have much in common with Dorothy's tin man after all. I continued on to college for about one and a half years with a cumulative 3.72 GPA. I recall plunking away on my old manual typewriter doing a term paper while my little energetic son climbed all over my back. I was in college, learning and doing a great job of it! I loved it! However, once again, a family member needed care and so I was the one to do the caregiving. I dropped out of college thinking I would go back within a short period of time. But that was not to be.
One disaster after another plagued my family. My husband nearly died from a misdiagnosed ruptured appendix. He then had a serious lawn mower accident. My oldest son (as a pedestrian) was hit by a car and seriously injured. Shortly after his long recovery he had an accident while driving his truck. His fifteen-year-old passenger was killed and my son was charged with vehicular homicide. That sad day haunted our family for a very long time. In the interim my daughter's bouts with ill health began to escalate. Many visits through the years to numerous doctors during her childhood yielded minimal results. Also, during that time period, my oldest son was diagnosed with schizophrenia; my other son, who was blessed with a sound mind, graduated from high school; I divorced and remarried several years later and gained not only a new husband but a stepdaughter also.
My daughter increasingly reminded me of my mother. Approximately nine years ago, when she was in her twenties, she was finally properly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. A number of things began to fall into place as to why my mother behaved the way she did. After all, little was known about mental illness back when I was a kid. I so wish I could say my son and daughter took their meds, accepted therapy and we all lived happily ever after but that was not to be—at least not up to the present time. Years of turmoil, on and off estrangement, emotional distress and near financial ruin passed and I finally had a revelation. I can't fix it! Now there was a learning experience of a lifetime!
Once I learned "I-can't-fix-it" I started picking up my personal shards to begin my mending. Years ago I awakened to a small poem I literally dreamed up which ultimately became my small spark of fame. The poem never left my heart. Moreover, it has morphed into a gauge for my progression in my life.
SURVIVAL?
They say survival is where it's at
But I suspect that's just the beginning
Since surviving with nothing intact
Is the worst form of extinction.
I shared it with a psychologist I met and subsequently signed a release so he could include it in a book he was writing. I also entered it into a poetry contest and won the privilege of having it published. That, however, came down to a money thing. "Have your poem engraved on this plaque for only…" etc. But I am still mindful that it was indeed published and only about a hundred were selected out of what surely was thousands.
I believe that age is a state of mind rather than body and I am reasonably certain that I am years older than most, if not all, of your applicants for this scholarship. I am most definitely a so-called late bloomer probably because of my life's circumstances. But, regardless, I liken myself to a moonflower. A moonflower remains dormant during the day but opens quickly in the evening for all who so choose to see its glorious, fragrant bloom. It grows tall and would be patient and accepting of its lot in creation if flowers were so inclined.
Throughout the years I always had to work to help with the finances. I say "work" because the only employment that came close to a career with good pay, benefits and satisfaction was my eighteen years with the U.S. Post Office. Before that I drove truck, kept books, waited tables, cooked and basically did what I had to do to juggle my finances and still be there for my family. Presently, my husband, Bob, and I operate two very small businesses to supplement our retirement income. This is absolutely necessary because of the debt I incurred trying to help my daughter and now raising our sixteen-year old grandson, Gabriel. Gabriel is my daughter's child. Gaining custody of him was perhaps the hardest decision I have ever made but I know it was the right thing to do. His progress and happiness is evidence of that.
I would like to continue my education for several reasons:
- To be able to have a career that is edifying and pays well.
- To finish what I started years ago and
- To learn.
An online curriculum is ideal for me because I have discovered that my plans have one common denominator. They are subject to change. I'm okay with that. After all, I have made it this far with all of the life changes I have had to make. I juggle life very well and have self-motivation conjoined with a can-do attitude. I am a night owl in some respects and, just as I am doing writing the original draft of this letter, I do a lot of my work late at night when the house is quiet.
Thank you for this opportunity and the time you have taken to consider me for a scholarship.