I want a car more than anything I ever wanted in my entire life. Last month I turned seventeen, and I took the written driver’s test. I was so nervous that I failed the test the first two times I took it. My dad told me that if I didn’t pass the written test this time, I can’t retake it for a year.
I told him I would die if I couldn’t get my driver’s license. Just die. Can you imagine graduating from high school without their driver’s license? The humiliation alone would kill me. Absolutely everyone I know has their driver’s license. And their parents are buying them a new car for graduation. My father said, “you have to get a job and earn money to pay one half of the cost of the car.” And can you imagine he said I have to get a used car? A used car, I will be devasted if I have to drive around a hoopty.
Girl learning to drive
I’ve made up my mind that I will pass my written driver’s test and my driving test. Whatever it takes. And by that, I mean WHATEVER. I will beg, bribe, or sleep with someone to get my license.
I have agreed to start looking for a part-time job to earn money. I have made a commitment to myself to accomplish this goal. And I will.
I spent the whole weekend studying the driver’s manual. My friend, Gina, ask me all the questions for the written test twenty times. I’m ready. Today I will be taking the written test for the third and last time. I’m stoked.
“Good news, I passed the test. I only had one question wrong. I couldn’t remember the shape of the road sign for Yield. And now I am going to get my mother to teach me how to drive.”
“Get this, my father said he will be the one teaching me to drive. Can I never catch a break? What’s next, water torture?”
Today my father took me out for my first driving lesson in the parking lot of the Mall. Can you say a living nightmare? So, I get behind the wheel, and the seat is so far back that my feet can’t even touch the peddles. Let’s just say that my father is somewhat “softig.” And by that, I mean he looks like he is going to give birth any day now.
First, he says,” Adjust the mirrors, the side mirrors, and the rear-view mirror.”
“I know Dad, I know. I did take driver’s ed.”
“Make sure your seat is adjusted too, Samantha.”
“I did that already, Dad.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.”
After that, I kept my mouth shut, because when my dad says, “don’t roll your eyes at me.” That means he’s not kidding around. And I keep my mouth shut. I just complain in my head.
“Alright, ease your foot off the brake and gently press on the gas pedal.”
I do just that, and the next thing I know, we are shooting forward, and I totally freak out and let go of the steering wheel. My father grabs the wheel and starts screaming at me like a maniac. “Have you lost your mind, never take your hands off the wheel. Are you trying to kill the both of us?”
I begin to silently weep. I have found that my father is very uncomfortable with crying females, and he immediately feels repented. I wipe my eyes repeatedly and then my father looks over at me.
“Alright, alright, stop crying. Take a deep breath. Let’s begin again. Samantha, you must always, always drive with great care. Your life and the other drivers on the road depend on that. A car can become a weapon of death and destruction if we do not learn how to drive responsibly. Our lives and the other driver’s lives on the road depend on responsible driving.”
“Ok, ok, dad I get it. I just freaked out momentarily. I’m a little nervous.”
“Let’s begin again. Take your foot off the brake and depress the gas pedal slowly. Look both ways to the right the left and the rear-view mirror.”
For the next half-hour, my dad has me drive in circles, practice parallel parking. Can you believe it he had two traffic cones in the trunk of the car, god knows where he got those? Then he had me drive forward and backward.
“That’s it for today, Samantha. Next time we’ll go out on the back roads around town, and you can get some practice in the traffic where the traffic is not as congested as on Route 50 or 40.”
I look over at my dad, and he has sweat dripping down from his forehead. His face is red as a beet. I think he might be having a heart attack or something. “Are you alright, Dad? You look kind of sick.”
“What? Of course, I am. No problem. Let’s change seats.”
“Oh, please, dad, let me drive home.”
“What? NO. I mean not today, honey.”
I moved to the passenger seat; I notice that my dad seems a little unsteady on his feet as he gets out of the car and walks over to the driver’s side. I guess it’s tough getting old.
I start looking at part-time jobs online. I don’t have any work experience except baby-sitting. And god, how I hate taking care of little kids. Absolute torture. “I want this; I want that.” Annoying as hell. I could get a job at the mall, but I would have to take the bus. Taking the bus is so lame, nothing but old and poor people take the bus. What choice do I have? I’ll have to take the bus.
I see there’s an after-school job at the Shop and Stop, which is only about two blocks from my house. I can walk there. The hours are three days a week from 4 until 8 pm. I’ll have to talk to my mother about it. My dad says he wants me to earn money, but he won’t like it if my grades slip.
“Good news, my mom and dad said I can work that job I told you about, but if my grades fall, I’ll have to quit. My grades aren’t great. I can’t really afford my grades dropping, or I might not graduate. And I must get out of high school this year.
Today is my first day on the job. I have to admit I’m a little nervous. Here I go through the Stop and Shop entrance. I see a woman who looks like an employee standing in front of the store. She’s wearing an apron that says Stop and Shop. I walk over to her. “hello, my same is Samantha Miller. I supposed to start working here today.”
“Well, dear, I don’t know nothing about that. Go over to that door that says manager and knock.”
“Ok, thanks.” I knock at the door. It is a very small office. And the man that interviews me is apparently the manager. I don’t remember his name. He is talking on the phone and gestures for me to come in and sit and wait. I do.
After about five minutes, he hangs up.
“Your Samantha, correct?”
“Yes, I’m supposed t start working here today.”
“Well, I think we are going to start you out by teaching you how to restock the shelves. And after you are finished that I’ll have you work with Terri.”
I spent the next four hours stocking shelves. It isn’t hard, but it is boring. But I keep telling myself I will have my car soon. I can’t imagine doing this sort of job for the rest of my life. This makes me start thinking about school and how I need to improve my grades if I want to go to college or some type of technical school after I graduate. I hadn’t really put any thought into it before.
When I get home, I hear my mother calling me from the kitchen.” Samantha, is that you?”
“Yes, Mom, it’s me.”
“How was your first day?”
“Well, it was boring, but I guess it will be worth it. When I get a car.”
“Honey, we all have to work at boring jobs when we first start out and don’t have any experience. When I was in high school, I had a job in a factory where I had to do assembly. I attached one part to another part by soldering it. Over and over again, I thought I would go insane from boredom. But every Friday, when I got my paycheck, it all seemed worth it.”
“Yeah, Mom, you told me that before.”
“Well, I supposed I did, but it’s true none the less. You better get started on your homework. Oh, I put dinner in the oven for you. You’re probably starving.”
“I am starving. What did you make for dinner?”
“Your favorite, lasagna, and, meatballs. I knew you would be hungry.”
“Lasagna, Oh, really, thanks, Mom. You’re the greatest.” I gave my Mom a little hug. And I noticed a tear run down her cheek. It made me realize that sometimes I’m not very nice to her or my dad.
“You go on now, and eat up. I love you, honey.”
“I look at my mom and, I got a lump in my throat. I swallowed it hard. Can’t show weakness. As I turned and walk toward the kitchen, I said really quietly, I love you too. Mom.”
After I eat dinner, I walk into my bathroom and brush my teeth and wash my face and use the toilet. There is no way I’m ever going to use a public toilet and the Stop and Shop. Gross. I go back to my room and open up my laptop and spend about five minutes checking emails. Then I close the laptop and get busy with my homework. I remember how boring stocking shelves are and how I don’t want to do it for the rest of my life. I make a promise to myself that I will pull up all my grades, even math. I have definitely made the decision today that I want to get Tech training. I’m not sure exactly what I will do, but it won’t be some boring and repetitive job like stocking shelves or cashier.
After I spent a good two hours finishing my homework, I start studying for my history final as I’m reading the history of and the Holocaust. It occurs to me how much I love learning about the past. And how we need to know the past and learn from it. As I’m sitting on the bed, I realize what I really would love doing is teaching. I would love to teach history. I’m going to teach history.
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