Once, reflecting upon my early education, I counted that I had changed schools 22 times during an 8-year period—all during critical formative years (btw: by no fault of my mother). There were spans of time when I didn’t go to school at all. We moved so often that I never learned anything in its entirety, and certainly nothing had any semblance of continuity.
Right after I miraculously graduated from high school, I tried to go to college, only to drop out twice because I simply didn’t have the fundamental skills I needed to succeed, and at that time, I neither had the discipline.
When I decided to go back and give it my all, I was in my mid-twenties, married with 2 kids, and I ached for the real education I never had.
I worked incredibly hard to overcome the gaps (and canyons) of missing foundational knowledge—and I’m still filling in the holes; I probably always will be.
So, as I’m reading this incredible memoir by Tara Westover and came to this line, I stopped and sobbed. I cried for the both of us and for anyone else who has been deprived of such a basic right. Because…me, either, girlfriend. Me, either.