Finishing Up...
last updated on Saturday, June 11, 2005 at 12:29:48 AM CST

regarding events somewhere about 6 November, 2002

Most people who meet me and have more than a passing conversation with me would never guess one of the things I'm probably most regretful of.  In fact, I remember one evening, I was walking around the apartment complex I lived in, talking to my friend, Brian Gallagher, and he looked at me with shock.  We were talking about my roommate, Glen Brown, and the fact that he hadn't graduated High School.  How this, somehow, made Glen a lesser person.  I told him that not everyone needs a High School diploma to get along in life.  Now, admitedly, Glen's probably not one of those people.  However, I asked Brian what he'd say if I told him I didn't have my diploma.  He smiled and said, "But you do..."

"No.  I don't."

You see, I was a few credits short of graduation.  It would have taken me another half a year to graduate, and I wasn't patient enough to have even half of a Senior year.  Mostly because I wanted out of my grandparent's house.  Partially because I felt that there was little more I could learn from High School.  And a lot to do with just not being in a very stable point in my life.  So, seven days into my second Senior year, after having missed five consecutive days, I dropped out.

I still regret that decision, though, I know that if I were standing there with the same set of circumstances, I'd do it again.  Honestly, I don't feel that it's held me back much in life, but, still, I ended up dropping from my third year of Publications, and in the process, disappointing one of my best teachers — though, as I recently learned, she understood that I had my reasons for doing so.

Still, for a few years, I'd been told I should get my GED.  To at least wrap up my High School education.  I didn't really want to.  I actually felt it would be a waste of my time.  After all, I knew I could pass.  I didn't need the acknowledgement of someone else.

Of course, I've been considering going to college for the past few years, planning on getting my Associates in Graphic Design, and possibly in Marketing as well, and seeing where this would all take me to a Bachelors, and perhaps my Masters in something or another.  I've still got to sit down and do all the planning.  However, there was a large boulder sitting in the middle of my road to college.  My GED.

So I finally went and registered for the class in the fall of 2002, I registered for the test.  No classes.  No advanced preparation.  Just a test.  On November 6 and 7, 2002, I went and took the test.  Math, Science, Social Studies, and Language Arts tests.

Well, I have this face, and personality, that for some strange reason, engenders people to speak to me, even though they don't know me.  Some have told me that it's my eyes, full of friendliness and understanding.  I'm not sure what it is, but this guy that took the test in the same group as I did became my before-and-during-break buddy.  We'd take a test, and discuss how we did.  He'd keep showing me these two monster books that he'd used to study.  Me, I always came out of a test, and told him I thought I'd done well.

Finally, just before the last test on the second night, he asked me, "So, how much studying did you do?"

"None at all."  It was true.  As I told him, I logged on to the internet to see if there were any practice tests out there, and I had found one.  Three questions in to a ten question sample battery, I got bored, and clicked the little X in the corner.  I figured I'd just fly by the seat of my pants.

"Well, you seem pretty confident," he said.  I was, too.  In order to pass the test, you needed to score 2,250 out of a total possible score of 4,000.  Each test was worth 800 points maximum.  You needed at least 410 points on each test, minimum.  Also, you needed to pass the Constitution Test, but I'd picked up my transcript of having done that in High School (why take a test you've already taken?).

Well, a little after December 9, 2002, I received a letter in the mail, and for about thirty seconds before I opened it, I started to get nervous.  Would I have to retake parts of the test?  Had I become completely over-confident in my abilities, my education, my knowledge?  And then I opened the letter.

My lowest score was a 640, in Language Arts (Reading).  The irony that I received a 750 in Language Arts (Writing) is not lost on me.  Basically those scores tell me that I'm great at conveying a point, at writing very well, at composition, grammar, and so forth.  And that, comparatively, I suck at comprehending what I'm reading.  Now, 640 isn't a lousy score.  It puts me in the 92% percentile for High School students.  Nothing to be ashamed of.  Still, I am a little irked about it, because I know it's because I always over-interpret all of the subjective questions they ask on these tests, and since they're multiple choice on the reading portion, it's all very, very subjective.  Whereas, writing, I'm allowed to convey my own message.

Mathematics, a 790 out of 800.  Yes.  10 points short of perfect.  Science... another 750.  Social Studies?  800 points.  A perfect score.  Every question right.  Out of 4,000 points, I scored a 3,730.  I was placed in the 99th percentile for everything except the Reading portion of Language Arts.  Not too shabby for having not been in High School for eleven years, not studying, and flying by the seat of my pants.

Well, in early April, 2003, I got another letter in the mail.  This one was to invite me to attend a commencement ceremony at the College of DuPage.  I thought, briefly about going, and then, rather quickly, decided against it.  I didn't want to parade across the stage for my certificate.  I just didn't really feel like it.  Sure, it was a good moment in life, but really, I now had a piece of paper that told me what I'd always known.

And then my phone rang.  A woman from the GED department at CoD called me, and asked if I was planning on attending.  She explained that the reason for the phone call was because they really wanted me to be present, that I was going to receive special honors for my score.  That my score was the equivelant of graduating with High Honors from High School.

Yeah... that reeled me in.  I went.  Walking across the stage twice... that was worthwhile.  There wasn't a person in the audience there who knew me (that I'm aware of), but I figured I'd go anyway.  On May 10, 2005, I was handed two certificates, walked the stage twice, and, though I knew not another soul there, there was a sense of accomplishment heavy in the air.  I'd always known I was intelligent, and have known for years that I have the wisdom to use that intelligence (even if, perhaps, I don't always do so).  It might sound egotistical, and perhaps it is, but it was that second certificate, the recognition of my score, that got me to go to the ceremony.

And, yeah, I'm glad I went.  I'm glad I got my GED.  And I'm glad that Amanda and Kelly and others had harped on me about getting this over with.  My mother, when she found out, simply said, "See, I told you."  I smiled and said, "Yeah.  And I told you I could do it."  I guess we were both right.