Biography
My Fresh Start
Fourteen years of my life have been spent at the same school. My elementary, middle, and high school were all part of The Lovett School, a small private school in Atlanta. Even before I entered the school, my mom had already been teaching there for a year as an English teacher in the Upper School (what we called the high school) for grades nine and ten. She had even been an English teacher before then for some number of years at a different school until she was offered the job at Lovett. I don’t want this biography to sound like it’s about my mom, but because of her influence on me she will need some introducing. My mom is one of the most social and talkative people you can find. Anytime we would go to an event where there were going to be a lot of people we would consistently be one of the last people to go. Unable to end a conversation, my mom would keep talking to people when my brothers and I just wanted to get home and play video games. If she could I think she would be friends with everyone in the world, simply because she enjoys talking to them and just being a friendly person. At Lovett, my mom was no different with the English Department. She used her charm to get to know just about every person who worked in the Upper School, and almost all the English teachers in the middle school. When I was in Lower School (our elementary school) we only had one teacher for all our subjects and my mom still was even able to reach out and become friends with them.
Once I reached Middle School, my mom had been a significant presence at Lovett, enough to the point that teachers began finding out about her instead of the other way around. Almost all my teachers knew exactly who I was before I had even stepped foot into their classroom just because they knew my mom. My English teachers were always excited to have me as a student and after hearing so much about me from my mom. It seemed like I was never given the chance to prove myself as a writer on my own. Even though at first I was a little worrisome about my teachers having preconceived thoughts about me, I soon began to accept it for what it was. Still, it felt like I was stuck with the title ‘Mrs. Morgan’s son.’ With each paper I wrote, my mom felt it was like an extension of her work even when she didn’t know the topic. Ever since fifth grade I have always thought of myself as a good writer, as English is a subject that comes a little easier to me than history and math. But even though my mom is an English teacher I would seldom go to her for help on papers or to proofread on assignment. This was also due to the fact that I would wait until just about the night before a paper was due and begin writing it, leaving my mom, and sometimes myself, no time to proofread my paper. However, I always felt more accomplished and fulfilled when I submitted a paper my mom didn’t even about. The downside was that whenever I got a bad grade on a paper, my dad would get mad at me for not using my mom’s knowledge more as a resource. He would ask why I wasted the opportunity, often saying “You’re cutting your nose off despite your face.” Meaning I’m hurting myself even though I have the opportunity to do much better. I would just shake my head as I had heard it a thousand times, but just never actually listened.
For the first time since middle school, I sent a paper to my mom to proofread this semester. Being away and on my own with my own responsibilities has helped me to mature a lot with regards to my family. Before, I craved for privacy and my own space, keeping to myself every opportunity I could because I had gotten so tired of constantly being around my two brothers and my mom’s giant personality. I’m glad I can now be happy to visit with my mom and tell her about my day, when in high school she would ask me the same questions and I’d fake sleep. Even my brothers seem less annoying than before, but they probably have matured a bit too.
Now for the first time in my life I am a part of a school that has no connection to my mom at all. Only a handful of, if any teachers at UGA even remember my name now. Allowing me to have this almost anonymous persona where I don’t have to pretend to be anything I’m not. I have the opportunity to start completely fresh and everything that happens is up to me.
