Personal Story Book

Tina Shilling

Pacific Oaks College

I Am Me Poem

I am from the the mountain peaks with northern lights dancing behind, Carhartt jackets and frost

bit fingers. 

I am from the first house in the cul-de-sac, flower pots hanging over the light blue walls, laughter

in the tree fort and the front door always open. 

I am from Sunday night board games, dimpled smiles and brown eyes always seeking more,

from the Shilling household, a dysfunctional family, making it with a strong, curly auburn haired

women raising three boys and a girl. 

I am from stubbornness, being secretive and knowing "family business is family business." and "

if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger."

I am from bloodshed, nail pierced hands and redemption. From forgiveness, love and the Great I

Am. 

I am from Alaska, An eagle sorrowing the northern sky as well as a symbol; the coast of arms.

From cornbread with maple syrup and biscuits eggs and gravy on the frying pan. 

From a secret of an abusive, alcoholic father, who learned his behavior from previous

generations. From a fourth grade teacher with gray frizzy hair, ear to ear smile and a hug that

takes any troubles away. 

I am from the Mendenhall Glacier and the streams that run from it, from a cold beer and a fishing

pole, to a trip down the slopes. I am from a long car ride with the music blaring to a long rainy

afternoon snuggled on the couch in a loved one’s arms. 

Coming To America

Coming Of Age In America

 Marigolds,   by: Eugenia Collier  Pg. 254

I chose this story because the title intrigued me, I have a childhood friend named Margo whom I

called Marigold, and through our friendship (going on fifteen years) we have experienced crisis

and dysfunction as well as joyous memories. “Poverty was the cage in which we all were

trapped, and our hatred of it was still the vague, undirected restlessness of the zoo-bred flamingo

who knows that nature created him to fly free.” I felt like I related to Eugenia Collier’s story in

many ways with growing up in similar circumstance, My mother was always working, father

always trying to find work and we’d go to food banks and churches to receive food at times to

make it until the next payday. There were at times as a child that I was envious of others and

their new clothes and toys that they would bring to school, and hate the fact I was in my brothers

hand me downs, yet I had so many great memories that makes the bad times vague such as her

quote states.

In the story Marigolds that author Eugenia Collier had been awoken in the middle of the

night to hear her mother’s soothing voice and her father sobbing about where he is in life and

where he should be. I remember an incident in my life when I was huddled into the back

bedroom with my brothers, Mark, Jonathan and Michael. Mark and Jonathan were the oldest, the

protectors of the family, the first ones to jump out the window and get help when our father had

drank too much that day. Michael and I were supposed to keep quiet and stay out of the way until

the cops would show up, but if things got out of hand we knew to jump out the window, follow

the dirt path bedded in pine trees and meet at the big red church. We all sat there huddled on the

bed together as Mark and Jonathan discussed our plan of action. Mark whispers “I will go, you

stay here and watch Michael and Tina.” He grabs his baseball and is about to jump out the

window to run to the neighbor’s yard, when we here a loud sob from the living room. Everyone

froze, hoping my father had not roughed up my mother, praying the noises did not come from

her. As we sat, we could hear my mother’s voice, trembling as she reassures my father that it

would all be okay.  We could hear my father’s loud sobs, wondering if this is a trick, for my

father never cried… Was he testing us to see if we would dare to come out of room? Mark

bravely opened the door and tip toed down the hallway to see what was happening, as we all

closely followed behind ( even though mark had warned us to stay in the room.) and there sat my

father, his half bald head curled in my mother’s lap, both of them crying and us  frozen in

bewilderment. My mother led my father to his bed, us still standing watching, waiting for

something still to happen, no walls had been hit, none of us had been challenged for a fight like

his normal drunken rages, he just continued to cry and apologize, as if something had snapped

him back into reality and he understood his actions were wrong.. I felt with my story, my father

snapped back into sobriety and had known that he shouldn’t be installing fear into his family and

broke down crying. This was an emotion I have not seen in my father, and was still waiting for

him to snap back into his normal rage, alpha male attitude he normally portrayed.

Eugenia Collier also mentioned how her father was the rock of their family, normally

silent at the dinner table and leaving every morning to go find work to provide for his family. My

father would also try to get numerous jobs but would always get turned down when they began

to do his background check, he had numerous DUI’s, domestic violent and child endangerment

chargers, he had been in and out of jail and was not use to having his wife provide for his family

and he chose to drown those feelings in a few bottles of alcohol every six months or so. Eugenia

Collier’s father had the struggles of being an African American Man in a time when where he

was degraded for his race, it was difficult for him to find work and him ashamed to have hands

out, especially from the family of white ethnicity that her mother whom I assume worked for. I

felt a similarity in between our fathers, our experience of seeing them non dominant as they liked

to portray. Our stories are also different in many ways, this was a coming to age story for

Eugenia Collier, realizing she was not an innocent child, but a women whom felt ashamed of her

actions and how she destroyed the Marigolds because in herself she felt trapped, and the thought

of beauty in a place that was tarnished was unbearable and it had taken me a few more years to

realize how strong and caring my father’s actions had made me. Through my family dysfunction

I have developed a passion for helping those whom are in similar situations I have been in and be

an advocate for those students that need it.

Going To School, by : D’arcy Mcnickle, Pg. 154

I chose this story again based on its title, it was located in the affairs from the heart, and the title

going to school attracted me. I began to image what the story maybe about and was reminiscing

on crushes I had in school, getting married to Clancy Kelly on the back of the school bus with a

ring he got out of a 25 cent machine at the mall, or my first kiss near the swings on the

playground. I was excited to read D’arcy mcnickle’s experiences through her Essay, in her essay

she wrote, “He lived his life on the road to school; the night was only spent in waiting for

another day.” (pg.162) this quote really hit home for me. It reminded me of my childhood. I did

have many great experiences with my father and brothers and great lasting memories of playing.

But I also never felt fully safe at home, my father would go through phases of sobriety and you

never knew when he would come home drunk and ready to cause chaos. At school, I always felt

safe and would look forward to going there and being with teacher whom I felt truly cared for me

and peers that did as well.  

I feel the author D’ Arcy McNickel’s story related to the whole group of children and

how they grew together on the way to and from school. Their lives were the same but on the way

to school, at school and the way home, their dysfunctional families were nonexistent and the

bond they had between each other, helped shape them in to the people they were becoming. Yet

it was hard for me to have these bonds as a student at school, my father was very possessive of

my friendships and did not want me having relationships outside of school. I was allowed to play

with neighborhood friends, at close watch but I feel he was always afraid our “family secret”

would be let out, he would isolate myself from peers. I feel this was also a part of his culture and

race as a white man in America, he did not want the shame of knowing he was hurting his

family, and it was taught to him by his dad as well.

The Jacket, By: Gary Soto, Pg. 3

I chose this story because I was intrigued with the category fitting in and it reminded me of a pair

of blue jeans I had with green flames that I loved yet my peers did not, and they were quick to let

me know how ugly they were. Gary Soto states: “I wanted to cry because it was so ugly and so

big that I knew I’d have to wear it a long time.”  This line spoke to me while reading this essay,

it is so sad and hard to imagine being so disappointed in an article of clothing, then knowing you

will be stuck wearing it for a long time. I thought it was also admirable how Gary Soto, even

though being ridiculed for his jacket, he still respected his mother and wore it and kept it through

the years.

I remember how excited I was for my flame jeans and how quickly I was saddened by

my peers from their reactions. I tried the jeans on in my room when they arrived in the mail, I ran

into my parents room for they had a full size mirror on their closets. I was in love! These jeans

had it all, felt slimming, made my butt look good and did I mention the sparkle flames? I felt hot!

I tried on a few tops and was excited to show them off at school the next day. I woke up early to

get to school early enough to go to the gym before class started to show off my new pants. I

arrived and saw my group of friends at the end of the gym, posted against the wall. I walk over

there, smiling and strutting my stuff as if the gym was the cat walk. As I reach my group as

Marci says “Tina, look at you, you’re on fire!” and the whole group begins to laugh, at first I

thought Marci was serious, but then as the chuckles continued I realized I was the center of their

jokes, which did not just continue for the day but I am constantly being reminded, even to this

day, ten years later. Although I felt so very confident in those pants, that confidence was crushed

with the words of my fifteen year old peers. Gary Soto’s story “The Jacket” reminded me of my

experience of the love I had for my green flamed pants although our stories were almost

complete opposite. Gary Soto had a hand me down jacket that he did not want, that he was teased

about and ridiculed but stuck having to wear it and I had an article of clothing I loved, was teased

for and then scared to wear again. Our stories were opposites but had similar outcomes. We both

felt insecure when wearing our articles of clothing, as well humiliated in front of our peers, but

Gary Soto was not as lucky as I, I had the choice to hide them in my closet and he did not have

that luxury. Through my environment and up bringing I was privileged to have the ability to not

wear them, as Gary Soto, had to be respectful and wear the jacket, for he had no other options.

The Wrong Lunch Line, By: Nicholasa Mohr, Pg. 52

I chose this story after reading the first few lines, I was curious how the story would go with the

two best friends that could not eat together. After further reading the story I found out it was

heavily related on their cultures, yet I felt a connection to the story, reminding me of one of my

childhood friends. Remembering back to that time, “It was third period and I was anxiously

waiting for the bell to ring so I could meet Jessica in the hallway for my turn with the Journal. I

could not wait to know what was going on with all my girlfriends days, who we were gossiping

about today, what crushes we had this week and joking about the teachers and how class is

boring. When I received the journal it was filled with my other girlfriend’s previous letters from

the past three classes. Margo was the topic for the day, our chubby, energetic friend whom over

loving nature was the new topic of our cruel middle school torture. Margo would always come

and give you a hug when she saw you, go to hold your hand when we were walking from school

and the girls have decided that she must be a lesbian. Being naive and fearful of not fitting in

with my peers, I jumped on the bandwagon of bashing poor Margo, and agreeing with the

previous girl’s statements of kicking Margo out of our journal.  Margo and I had met in dance

class and she was the closest one to me from the group, we would walk to and from school with

each other and I would spend my weekends living at her house until Sunday night when I had to

return home for school the next day. A true friend that I had sold out in mere fear that they would

have me be the next topic of ridicule amongst the school. The bell had rang and I was supposed

to give the notebook to Margo, my classroom was connected to her classroom with a double

doors that open in the back for us to switch classrooms. (Small town school, many of our classes

we just went back and forth between the two rooms.) Fearful to confront Margo I tucked out the

front door, rushed to the bathroom and waited until I heard the bell ring and snuck into my next

class, avoiding her for one more class. Next period the rumor had already spread through the

school and I was off the hook breaking the news to Margo for my peers had made it clear that

she was not welcomed in our journal. These cruel rumors had lasted until that evening when

Margo had called me crying and asking how I could go along with this cruel joke. I began to sob

in the phone as well apologizing for my actions and not being a true friend to her, the fear of

being ridiculed had I become the one doing the ridiculing.”

I feel my story is similar in the friendship I shared with Margo as well as the friendship

Yvette and Mildred had, yet the difference is in the way Yvette stood up for her friend Mildred

and wanted to experience her culture with her. Margo was a dear friend of mine and out of fear

of being the next one teased, I teased her. I feel when this happened, I was a child and very

ignorant when it came to relationships. I now, more mature try not to judge anyone for their

culture, religion, and race or sex life. I believe we are all children from God and that we all

deserve to be loved equally.

Teacher By: Silvia Ashton Warner

I really enjoyed the book teacher, and found many of her teaching techniques similar to the ones

that I am using right now in my classroom. Sylvia Ashton Warner had mentioned in her text that

you don’t need to spend money on all these fancy toys, go outside and find a frond and ask the

child to count how many fronds are on it, she gave examples of the children and her going on

walks, and letting their creativity blossom while they learn to count flower pedals or clovers. I

admired how she used nature to help teach her children, and I enjoyed seeing how she changed it

up for different skill levels, such as having the younger children just learn to count to three on

the clovers or the older children learn to count in multiples of three. (Warner, 1986) Sylvia

Ashton Warner believed in teaching to the individual student, and she believed that the students

could help mentor one another. I love taking my preschoolers are on a walk, sometimes we will

sit around the YMCA, and just practice copying words that we see around us, or go on a “bear

hunt” through the woods, imagining different scenarios along the way. I feel I connected with

Sylvia Ashton Warner on that approach. I do feel our classrooms are very different, I admire the

difficulties she faced and the respect she had for their culture and making learning towards the

independent student. In my classroom, have children from all different cultural backgrounds,

many privileged (living in upper class area.) and are taught by play throughout the day.

Time Line

March 1990 born in Salinas CA

June 1990 – Moved to Juneau AK, father received a job offer from friend of the

family to help with rough time. My father, mother, two brothers and myself were

currently living in a group home, while my father was finishing rehab.

1993- We live in Thunder Mt. Trailer Park. Many neighborhood friends around us

to play with. I began taking dance lessons at a local ballet studio. My mother loved

ballet and was waiting for me to be old enough to take lessons.

1995- I started kindergarten in Mr. Rights class, He’s classroom was amazing, He

had a large wooden plane that would swing through his room and I absolutely loved

it!

1995- My father was doing very well in his job and had moved to management

selling Kirby Vacuum cleaners. We were able to buy a home, with a large yard

surrounding the whole property. I getting my own room, but I had to switch schools.

I was scared at first but made friends quickly, and a friend in class ended up being

my new next door neighbor! I was in many after school activities such as

cheerleading, softball, soccer, dance and gymnastics.

1996- My father went to jail for a DUI and I received a puppy as a sorry. He’s name

is Noah, he is an Akbash, a large white sheep dog. (This is the beginning to my

animal hoarding.)

1997- I disliked reading, Hooked on phonics did not work for me and I was scared

when it came time to read in class. I was always escorted out with the other students,

whom were behind, feeling so inferior to the other students. My mother had pulled

me out of school and home schooled me for a year to catch me up, luckily this one on

one time is what I needed to get ahead, returning to school ahead of the game the

following year.

1998- My father kept having problems with his sobriety but at this age, I was able to

understand it is not normal to get drunk and beat your family up every six months

or so. My father went to jail and it was a very rough time for my family. I had an

amazing fourth grade teacher whom helped me survive this process, being my

advocate and inspiring me to later become a teacher. I had to visit my dad in jail,

and go through scary court trials and counselling sessions, but I had my school

family for support. I was struggling through school, but was passed along by

teachers because they knew of my family struggles.

2000- My father is now in a half way home. I feel safe at home, and safe visiting my

dad at the half way house, I did not like visiting him at the jail, it was always scary

going through all the security procedures. My dad was working on transitioning out

of the halfway house to be at home. (Throughout my life my father has gone to jail

numerous times, I had a defense mechanism of blocking these times out, there are

incidences that I remember but many I do not, which makes it difficult to put them

on a time line.)

2001- My father comes home and the cycle has not stopped. My mom begins to go to

school to help us leave this life style. My mom is from Germany, and when she

moved her a lot of her schooling did not transfer. She started to go to school to

become a nurse and we all just continued the lying cycle. At this point, I am still in

Soccer, Cheerleading and Softball for these activities I could receive scholarships

for. My father had a difficult time finding a job, with his criminal record. I

remember going with my mom once a week to the food bank, donate a dollar and

you could fill up a shopping basket full of food.

March 14, 2002- It’s my birthday and I can recall my father saying “ Geeze, the

bratyness of a teenager is already showing.” (My father thought I was turning

thirteen, not twelve...)

August 2002- I became a woman. I was so embarrassed to tell my mother I had

started my period, and of course she tells my father. My dad goes out and buys me a

rose to welcome me to womanhood.

2004- Start of high school career, parents finally divorce!! My mother has full

custody of us, and she is almost finished with nursing school. I get my permit to

drive and am loving high school. I begin making friends (some that were not on the

right track on life.) and experimenting with marijuana and alcohol. I would begin to

skip class and try new things. I felt as if I was an animal trapped in a cage for so

long, and then when I was able to come up, I did not know what to do and went

wild.

September 2003- I made the Junior Varsity Cheer squad, the football games are a

town religion! The whole town would show up to watch the Friday night games, and

many local business and supporters of the team donated money to have other teams

in Alaska fly out to play us, and we would also miss every other Friday of school to

fly out to play other teams. I was not making great choices, but made sure to have

good enough grades to stay on team sports.

September 2004- Varsity, Began dating a boy I thought “I loved” and felt that

everything was on a good path, until my mom found out she got a few different job

offers and we had to choose between Washington, San Diego, or Oregon.

January 2005- I move to San Diego, I stay with my best Friend Margo, A childhood

friend from Alaska for a few weeks until my family has arrived (driving down.) My

mom was kind enough to pick San Diego, where I knew one friend. I had never

talked to my father after I had moved, He decided to leave Alaska and attempt to

contact or pay child support.

February 2005- I was told by schools that I would have to do night and summer

school to make up for classes that I did not have that were Californian graduation

standards. (If I stayed in Alaska, I would have been right on track.)

2006- Went to Abraxas high school to take fast track courses to graduate.

2007-2008 – Partied a lot throughout high school, hit my rock bottom and realized I

had always had a love for teaching, and wanted to be like the teacher that had

helped me through my family’s tough times.

2009- freshman in college at Palomar, Teaching gymnastics for the YMCA

September 2009- Received a substitute position as a Preschool instructor for a small

Christian preschool, focused my time on school, work and volunteering. The job

became fulltime when the teacher decided not to come back from maternity leave.

December 2009- Met a boy that was having a hard time that I felt I could help push

through it. We spent every day together although I saw so many traits of my father

in him, I just knew he loved me and I loved him and hoped it would change.

March 2011- I turned 21! It wasn’t much of a big deal, I had done my partying

when I was younger, but enjoyed going to Las Vegas with family to gamble and

celebrate.

June 2012- I received another teaching position that was closer to work and a lot

more pay. I had to sadly leave my job and began teaching for the YMCA. I had

moved in with my boyfriend and together we have accumulated two dogs, two cats,

and two birds.

October 2013- I had begun to resent my significant other for not working or

supporting our relationship, I had found out he was talking to other girls and began

to isolate myself from my friends because I was fearful how he would act if we were

drinking together. I had finally had enough and had him move out.

December 2013- I had tried living on my own for a while but the rent was too much,

I had combined forces with my mother and as a Christmas present, we started the

New Year in a house closer to work and school. I had purchased myself a new

vehicle, the first vehicle in my own name and had made many new friendships

through church and work that were healthy.

April 2014- Gas for my truck is expensive, I bought a motorcycle!

June 2014- Single and loving it, focused on school, work, animals, friends and

family!

December 2014 – I have finished my AA in child development!!!

January 2015- Started Pacific Oaks for my Bachelor’s Degree!

To Be Continued...

Self Portrait

I chose to draw my eye for this project. I remember my father always singing to my Brown Eyed Girl when I was little and I felt so beautiful whenever he sang that song. I wrote the words: Righteousness, country living, brown eyed girl, mother nature, hardworking, caring, animal loving, independent and enthusiastic to describe myself. Inside the eye I also wrote the quote, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I feel throughout my life, I focused on many struggles and it

took me a long time to see that some of my struggles were actually beautiful steps that lead me to where I am today.

Stories: Poem

I am strong

Longing to always want to better myself and do more

Sacrificing free time for volunteering to make up for past mistakes

Using my past struggles as an advantage point to help me better lives.

Hard working, fulltime employee and student.

Caring, motherly, energetic and lover of three year old dance parties.

Mother of animals and lover of nature.

Best Describes Me.

I was three years old when I had learned how to ride a bike. My father had taken me out to the street a few blocks down near a park and had held on to my seat and allowed me to peddle, when he felt I had it, he let me go and I instantly fell on the floor. My knee was scratched up and I did not want to try again. My father had made me go back on the bike and continue to try, I was so fearful from falling that I could not focus on peddling the bike and kept crying while he was holding the bike while running beside me. Once my father had enough of my crying and complaining he had told me that I was to ride my bike home, he was not going to hold my bike anymore, and that if he saw me walking it, I would get spanked when I got home. The whole time I was riding the bike, I was crying, I kept falling down and sitting there for a while as I mopped about having to ride my bike home. I than tried again, and began to be successful at riding, once I got home, I was successfully peddling the bike and my father had a grin on his face, thinking “I knew you could do it.” Although I think my father could have been more

supportive, I think he knew how stubborn I was, and in order to get me out of me pouting from falling, he had to let me do it on my own. I feel I was very independent and my father realized I need to do this task independently, we were both getting frustrated with each other and he knew that I was ready to accomplish this task. Although I think it was a little harsh how he threatened to punish me in order to get me to do this task, I am very happy it has happened. I love riding my bike still till this day, and I feel that this one of my earliest memories, learning to ride my bike, failing, crying, being left by myself, to accomplishing it on my own.

Describes My Love For Children.

“Tina! Tina!! I have an idea! Let’s get paper, we will write “money for toys.” And then people will just give us money. We stand on the street and cars just come up and give us money and we can get new toys!” Connor was very excited to execute his plan and I began asking him what materials he needed to construct his sign. This was Connor’s first day seeing a homeless man on the street. He’s mother informed him that the man was getting money because he needed to buy things. So he felt like if he made a sign, he could just get money for new toys, plain and simple. Its little things like these that make me love working with children, I love working with the ages 2-5, where I feel everything begins to make sense to them. So many things begin to click and they have questions for everything! They want to know how to make sense of this world, and I enjoy so much learning little facts through this process. I mainly help teach them social skills, and help guide them to be ready for kindergarten by learning how to sit at circle, and guiding learning through play activities. In my room, I have an orange journal, in my on certain days I will come home and write a cute, funny or caring thing a child has done that made my day. One day was like I previously mentioned with Connor. There are many days, where I feel I am so blessed to be doing what I am doing, that I have the best job in the world! I feel so loved in the work place and in return get to become a part of many families’ lives! I just always pray that I teach them as much as they teach me.

Reading the World

While reading "The importance of the act of reading" By Paulo Freire I chose the quote "I learned to read and write on the ground of the back yard of my house, in the shade of the mango trees, with words from my world rather than from the wider world of my parents. The earth was my blackboard; sticks, my chalk." ( Freire, pg. 8) I find this quotation meaningful and important to understanding Friere and Macedos discussion between the interrelationship between the word and the world, by showing how important the world was to Friere's process of learning to read. I feel this quote shows that he was in a safe place, practicing words around him, things that he already were familiar with and could connect with on a deeper level.  My experiences learning to read were difficult, I was not developing as quickly as my peers, and during reading time would be taken out of class, to a special reading class to help catch me up. When I was taken out of class, it made me feel stupid, and discouraged me more from reading. It had gotten to a point where I did not want to read and was embarrassed when I had tried. My mother halfway through third grade had the ability to take me out of school. It was in my home, snuggled up to her, where we learned to read, I remember taking trips to the library with her and finding new stories, that I was interested in to help teach me to read. We worked on all subjects, yet a majority of my time was working on reading. It all slowly began to make sense, and through time the letters had meaning and I began feeling more comfortable in reading out loud. I would take my little brother into my room, and practice reading with him and my older siblings would also help me practice and help teach me new words. I remember one time, my oldest brother mark was trying to help me write a letter to my grandma, and because I did not know my letters, he actually made me write a list of rude words, thank goodness my mother had read it before we sent it off to my grandma, I remember him having to go to his room for that one! Although reading was difficult

for me to grasp, I feel it was much easier within my home, with my family that I felt very comfortable with and at my own pace. When I had returned in the fourth grade, I was so proud of myself, when I took the reading test with my teacher and was placed in a sixth grade reading level!

Forgiveness Poem

Dad I forgive you,

As my heavenly father has forgiven me.

I have so many hurtful memories of you, which blinded me by realizing those memories made me whom I am

And so much blame towards you, for wrong paths I have chosen.

But through your actions I had found me, and leaned on the teacher in my life,

That have inspired me to be a teacher and be an advocate to children in similar situation.

I forgive you for leaving us,

Even though we stuck by your side through every relapse.

And I forgive you for not talking to me in the past ten years,

Although I am your daughter, at once your little princess.

I forgive you

Because you made me stronger.

Praise Poem

You are my mother

My Rock

The super glue holding this family together.

You have made many sacrifices for us including your culture, your education and your job.

You have always been a best friend,

Listened to secrets you may not have wanted to hear,

And be a shoulder to cry on when I had no one else there.

You love me unconditionally,

With ever mistaken I have made, you have always inspired me to try again.

You hold me as a prize, your only daughter, the only one to go to college.

The pressure to be the best I can be, In order to make you proud is there,

Although I know you will love me know matter what.You will always be my best support system.