Revision [2129]

This is an old revision of AutobiographiesSK made by SabrinaKaiser on 2012-01-17 09:17:19.


I was born in Kenosha, WI where I lived for the first six years of my life. My mother was 20 and my father was 19 when I came into the world. Since they were in no way financially set when they began reproducing, I spent a lot of time with my maternal and paternal grandmothers. My first sister was not born until I was four years old, so my childhood memories are comprised of birthday parties in July (my birthday is December 23, but my grandmother decided it wasn't fair that I had to share my birthday with Christmas), sleepovers with favorite relatives and generally having everything I wanted. Of course, this was cause for a rude awakening when the first sister, Shayna, came along, but I will not bore you with those details.
My family moved here, to Bemidji, MN, when I was six years old. Shayna and I promptly came down with the chicken pox, which lasted about two weeks. I attended first through fourth grade at Northern Elementary, which I hated. It's common knowledge in this small town that people with money tend to send their kids to Northern elementary. Well, my family did not have money. I was the kid wearing yard sale apparel and for this I was ridiculed.F ifth grade was spent at Lincoln Elementary. I cannot explain how different it is for a low-income kid who has been snubbed for four years at a snobby country school to finally be embraced for all her awesomeness at an inner city school. My oldest friendships were made during that last year of elementary school. My mother attended BSU for her undergrad, which she completed in three out of four years while working full time at Perkins and suffering serious sleep deprivation. My dad was physically around but I was charged with the care of my three younger sisters. Until middle school, summer vacation and sleepovers were unheard of.
During my middle school years I did not spend much time at home. At some point I had realized that it was not my responsibility to raise my parents' other daughters, so I left as often as possible. My father was verbally and emotionally abusive, and it very well could have turned physical, but I spent so much time away from home that it never had a chance to escalate to that point. Middle school is a happier blur than elementary school was, but it remains a blur none the less.

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