I wrote a memoir earlier in the semester that I feel I did well on. This English class I was told to pick a topic and it would be my topic all semester. I have always hated when a teacher says that. Pick your own topic and just write on that. I usually get no guidance and it is just a free-for-all. It can get so frustrating trying to pick a topic. I decided to kind of challenge the system and write on choosing your own topic and why that is bad and needs to be changed in many teachers pedagogy. My professor and a curriculum setup that we would write 3 big pieces and then one big group project. The first option I had was “memoir or profile”. I wasn’t sure what to do. My professor told me that a profile wouldn’t really work and it would be a little difficult to do a memoir due to the self exploration. I took that as a challenge and did a memoir. It was an interesting experience. I usually sort of write about myself but not really in a memoir format. I did enjoy it and it wasn’t as hard to do as I thought it would be. Here is the memoir that I put together.
Growing up with a part-time father
I had just started 3rd grade and I didn’t understand why my father couldn’t take me to school. Like most children, I wasn’t privy to the decisions of my parents. I wasn’t sure where my father was or what he was doing. My mother said he was working. But I knew that my father was a school teacher. I had been in his classroom, when I had been sick and he still had to work. I was confused why is this time was different. It was a tradition that he take me to school on my first day. His job had never kept him from taking me to the first day of school before.
My father taught French and German in Texas for 9 years at high school level. His schedule was pretty standard. And on the first day of school, he would take my sister and me to school and drop us off, well up until the 3rd grade that is. My father also worked at a travel agent school on the side to make extra money, because we all know how much money teachers make. He was training a new class of agents when someone a corporation came over and asked him to go for an interview in Dallas, TX. He considered it and without mentioning it to my mother, for which she later gave him hell, he went to the interview to hear what they had to offer. He found out that it was for a company called Worldspan. They sold and maintained the software that travel agencies use to book flights and hotels. They had sat in on one of his travel classes and liked his approach and his style of teaching. They knew at that point they needed him on their team. He got the job as a trainer, teaching agencies how to use the software that their company just purchased from Worldspan. This meant that he had to do a lot of traveling. My mother did forgive him for doing all of this without speaking to her about it, and they both worked it out together.
As time went on, I saw less and less of my father. He was always on the road traveling for work. I really missed out on bonding opportunities with my father that every young boy should experience. I was put into an after school program, with my sister, every afternoon until my mother could get off work. My father would leave early Monday morning, and return late Friday night. I would really only see my father around 9am Saturday morning until about 7pm on Sunday evening. I would really only get 22 hours with my father, and a good chunk of that we were all sleeping. It was within this time he attempted to spend time with his family and I don’t remember much of these time periods. I can really only remember times in the middle of the week when I would have dinner with my mother and sister, sitting in the downstairs living room on our big, blue corduroy couch. Often, we would have pizza and crazy bread from Little Caesars. My mother would relax, watch TV and help us with our homework. My sister and I ate, did our homework and then just hung out as a family until bed time. My mother would make sure we brushed our teeth and tucked us both in, one at a time. She would sing both of us a lullaby from the door way.
Going to events were always the worst. We would go as a family, minus one. I then had to answer questions as to where my father was. I don’t know why people would ask me if I knew where he was. I just know that it felt judgmental. “Do you know where your father is?” as if to rub it in that he wasn’t there. I generally ignored it, but as time goes on and you are asked a question so many times, you start to wonder. Why was he not here? Where was he? Who or what drove him away for so long? I would ask my mother and always got the same answer to my question until about the 5th grade. I still didn’t truly understand what he was doing until it came time for us to move.
I learned that we would be moving to Salt Lake City, UT in January of 1997 and we moved in February that year. It was at this point that the reason my father was gone a lot was truly explained to me. I was upset at first, as any 9 year old would have been. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to leave my friends and everything I knew behind. I wanted to stay. I wanted all of us to stay. My anger turned to fear, and then to something a little more open minded. I was afraid to move at such a young age. I didn’t know if I would make friends again. I didn’t know what to expect. Then I came to realize that it might not be so bad. I would make new friends and I would figure it all out as I went along. This is where I think my “go with the flow” attitude first appeared.
This became the motto for most of my adolescent life. I really never got super excited about anything, knowing that my parents wouldn’t put me into a situation that would do me any harm. I just let things happen. I, at the age of 10, basically lost all ambition in most things and waited for them to come to me. I gained weight and just sat around by myself, because my father was still traveling some and my mom was working, too. It also didn’t help that I lived across the street from my school so I didn’t need after school programs to watch after me. I just came home, did homework, and watched TV. It was like that for about a year.
It wasn’t until after that first year in Utah that my father really started to get involved in the life of his children. Everything had settled down, and we were set in our lives here. He was working from home some and he had time away from his work to spend time with us, but by then I had already been in the “unfocused” mood for a year. Finding something that I wanted to do with him was the hard part. I would just do whatever was presented to the family and just go with it.
Your early development is truly important to who you are to become and I missed out on some of that, because of my father being gone for work. I understand my father’s reasons for what he did, but I feel because of his decision, I didn’t get the bonding time that I needed in order to truly find myself. I am not blaming my father or claiming that I was a messed up kid because of this time in my life. I am a father now and I can truly understand what he did. The sacrifices that he made affected us all, though we didn’t know it at the time. That comes with being a parent.
We started doing more family activities and having more time with my father. We all took ice skating lessons, except my mother. My father was able to bond with us and give us both a hobby. My sister’s was figure skating and mine was hockey. He never missed a game. I could always hear him in the crowd over everyone else. I got my father back, and going through my teenage years I needed him, even though I didn’t want to admit it. I am just as stubborn as he is.
As time went on, I had more confidence in myself and started becoming less of a follower and was more apt to find my own way. I still have a hard time breaking that “go with the flow” attitude completely. I still have issues becoming a true leader and completely taking charge. It has definitely been easier since my father is in the picture more. I still have to be given direction from time to time, but now my father is usually the one that gives me that direction and guidance.