Terry Crawford Palardy

The fifth of nine children of a city firefighter and his wife, I was destined to attend public school until grade six, and then attend parochial school before entering the workforce as a downtown clerical worker for one of the large life insurance companies. Marriage and a family would follow, in that order. I would follow my older sisters' footsteps. It worked out fine for them, and could for me. But, things change.

Instead, I finished high school in a small town north of the city, where a guidance counselor caught up with me in June of my senior year to encourage my change in goals, suggesting I give college a try. It would be different than the destiny designed. It would cost money. It would alter my future. Perhaps. I agreed and enrolled in a nearby community college. At the end of the two years I left and took a clerical job with the federal government, walking two miles each morning to catch a ride.

In order, I married and we began a family. When our daughter entered school, a friend invited me to return to college to become a teacher. We did that, and were part of a pilot program for special educators. We would do extra student teaching and graduate with certification as teachers for students with Moderate Special Needs. While we were out doing those final blocks of student teaching, the college dropped the ball, and we graduated with only general teacher certification. Yes, things change.

I worked for a while in social services in a nearby city, as no one was hiring teachers without special education certification. In time, I became the director of the day care program, increased its size, opened a new contract with the state for after school care for older students, which I closed six months later due to an inability to staff the program on the meager state funding. This time, I chose change.

I began as a special education assistant next, repaired my certifications with a Master's Degree, and became a teacher. Seventeen years as an elementary special education teacher, and then thirteen years as a general education middle school teacher. I thought i would teach forever. Multiple Sclerosis arrived, and again, things changed.

A writer next, more of a wroter, past tense. Or maybe I'll be able to start fresh and write fiction, making up my own scenarios, fulfilling wishes vicariously, and destroying animosities swiftly with the stroke of a pen. Things change.