Sarcasm, Survival and a GED

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

by Jamie Lincicome

As most people excitedly approach their final year in high school, they view it as a testament to 12 years of hard labor. After spending years learning math that may never see the light of day again, navigating high school cliques and trying not to accidently set the chemistry lab ablaze, anyone who has attended any high school at any time deserves a participation trophy at the very least. Pair that with the emotional rollercoaster of finding oneself, experiencing heartbreak, cutting your own bangs and going through the infamous rite of passage that is prom, you’ll understand why every student deserves a standing ovation – graduate or not.

For me, I was given the more scenic route. Who needs predictability and emo high school angst when you can have varying forms of chaos and trauma packed into the most formative years of life? “It’s me, hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.”

Survival

For as long as I can remember, my life has been pretty tumultuous. As a younger kid, I spent a lot of time alone or being bullied at school but mostly just trying to stay out of the way. I would daydream about the days in which I could escape the chains of childhood and try to remain invisible to the adults in my life. I do want to be clear: my caretakers weren’t monsters. They fed me and cared for me to the best of their ability, but their ability was subpar at best and left a lot to be desired. Unfortunately, it got to the point where the parenting was insufficient, and I was placed in the custody of the state at the age of 12. There I remained until I was 18 years old.

During that time, I was placed in a variety of group homes and spent more than half my teenage years in detention homes. I had a penchant for running away from places that I didn’t like or that treated me poorly. This led to a parade of high schools that I attended, five of which I can remember clearly and one that I claim as an alma mater.

By the time I reached my alma mater, Canton South High School (Go Wildcats!), I had four usable credits of the 21 required for graduation in my junior year. It was apparent that I was not going to graduate on time or that I needed divine intervention to intercede on my behalf.

Intercession never happened; but as fate would have it, I would be shuffled to another group home mid-year at 17, and forced to start over again in another city and in another school district. In the end, the celebration of high school graduation would not be part of my story. These transitions were always hard on me, but if I learned nothing else, it was adaptability. The adaptability allowed me to survive some of the grimmest events after turning 18, and born out of that was a determination to thrive.

By the time I was 22, I was a mother to two young children under three, had a felony record and had spent much of my adult life in a homeless shelter due to having no familial or community support. I was entrenched deeply in the court system and on probation. I was required to study for my GED as part of the conditions of my probation, and I followed this requirement begrudgingly.

The GED

I didn’t believe that I was smart enough to obtain my GED and that it was a waste of time because I wasn’t going to get anywhere with it anyway. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t true, but I wasn’t in a place to admit that I was scared to try. I had always felt like a failure up to that point and if I didn’t pass, it would reinforce that narrative. Thankfully, my probation officer got tired of me stalling and let me know that if I didn’t sit for the GED exam, she would be taking me back to court for violating my probation. I had one week to take it.

The day of the test was a rainy and overcast day in April. My mood matched the weather, and in my mind I had already failed and was wallowing in the loss that had yet to happen. It was truly a glorious pity party. There were streamers and confetti present; tiny violins played softly in the background of my imagined party. It was magnificent.

I remember driving to the testing site wishing that it would be over already. I pulled into the parking lot and found a spot only to step directly into a large puddle getting out of the car. I was assured that this was a sign from the powers that be that I was doomed. I had no time to study for the exam, I was six years post “graduation,” and now I had soggy socks. I knew all of my fears would soon be realized.

I opted to take the exam in one sitting over the course of eight hours. In hindsight, I’m not sure why I opted for a one-day exam – maybe I felt that I wouldn’t have come back for the second part had I been given the chance. Either way, I slid into my seat and took my chances. I finished the exam with very little time to spare and spicy armpits as a reward for my nervousness.

I left feeling more scared than hopeful but knowing that I had tried my best. It was a long three weeks for the exam results, and it was filled with much apprehension about the future.

I received the long-awaited manila envelope and opened it with trepidation. At this point, I was ready to faint. I quickly read over the results – and I passed. I had passed all five sections, and I was the owner of a shiny new GED. In that envelope, I also had been invited to attend the graduation ceremony that summer and walk across the stage to receive my GED diploma. I happily accepted and walked across the stage in June 2007 to receive my GED from the Canton City School District.

It was a victory for me in what felt like a lifetime of failures. Every time I look at my GED, which is so  near and dear to my heart, it reminds me that even in the darkest of circumstances there are silver linings and hope. I recognize that getting a GED isn’t an impactful experience for everyone, of course, but for me it was the start of a lifetime of always seeking to do and know more.

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Jamie Lincicome, proudly representing Canton, Ohio, injects humor and heart into her debut work. With a knack for spinning quirky tales and mining real-life anecdotes, Jamie invites readers on a lively storytelling journey. When she’s not penning stories, you’ll likely find her pretending to be an outdoorsy type with her children, attempting (with varying degrees of success) to bake gluten-free goodies, or stealing an ever-so-brief moment of peace with her partner Cièmone. All the while, she navigates the chaos under the judgmental gaze of her feline overlord, Paisley.