10/08/2026
WARNING: A LONG READ, BUT WORTH IT!
JUST A GIRL WHO WALKED THROUGH OPEN DOORS
By Terri White
My mom’s due date for me was early January 1949, but I surprised everyone by arriving on December 27, 1948. I was a healthy, happy baby with chubby cheeks and sparse, pure white hair. When my sister arrived 16 months later, I had just begun walking. Before that, I never crawled, only scooted on my bottom with my right leg. Why, I have no idea. That, my friends, shall remain a mystery.
Now that I walked, my parents noticed my height. Tall, taller, and tallest of all the children my age. For some reason, it bothered my mom, so she insisted that no one tell me I was tall.
Enter kindergarten in 1953. Since my mom worried about my height, she enrolled me in kindergarten at age 4, not turning 5 until the end of December. My childhood photos show me head and shoulders taller than my friends, who were all nearly a year older than I. Of course, no one dared mention my height per my mom’s instructions. Zipped lips.
In those days, schools scheduled kindergarten for a half day of learning how to function in a group. We sang songs, played with toys, enjoyed recess, ate a snack, and napped. No 3Rs - readin’, writin’, or arithmetic. With each kinder classroom outfitted with a piano, the teacher was required to play and sing. Although not exemplary, my report card showed satisfactory behavior.
Despite my young age, I experienced a fairly pleasant year. I do remember wanting to play with the big blocks during center time, but the mad dash to reach one’s preferred center was mayhem. The boys always reached it first. Shucks. One day, not feeling well, my teacher sent me to the school nurse who pronounced me fine. At noon, when we kinders trooped our two blocks home, I vomited all the way. Embarrassed, I trudged on with every kid avoiding me.
At the year-end parent-teacher conference, the teacher admitted that I was not emotionally and academically ready for first grade. However, she passed me anyway because I was tall!
Thus, first and second grades proved a nightmare. With the average age for formal academics at age seven, I was clearly out of my league. I struggled. I remember sitting at my desk at the back of the classroom. I was tall!
On my desk in first grade lay a workbook filled with pictures and words with blanks to fill in. Not only did I frequently forget how to hold my pencil, but often, when I looked at the pages, they were blank. Of course, they weren’t blank, but my mind couldn’t process them, and failed to acknowledge the content. The teacher? She punished me by standing me in the corner in front of the class.
When I asked to use the restroom (inside our classroom), the teacher often declined my request. Naturally, I wet my pants. Then I ran away from school at recess. Only living two blocks from school, my mom tenderly greeted me and informed the school of my whereabouts. Not fond first grade memories, but somehow I learned to read.
Enter second grade with more academic rigors. As in first grade, I frequently ran away from school. This time, though, we had moved, living a mile from school. No one seemed to notice a six-year-old racing home.
Once, when I arrived home, I saw my dad coming home for lunch, so I hid behind a tree. Of course, he noticed me. Crouching down, he gently asked, “Terri?” I couldn’t speak. Then he held my hand and brought me into the house. I never could verbalize my trauma.
How could I? I only wanted the safety of home.
My parents never scolded me, but I’m sure they worried about me. I’m sure all of the adults in my life worried about me, but no one knew how to help me. It never occurred to anyone that I was too young for school.
After I turned seven in second-grade, my life changed. One day when our class worked on our arithmetic problems, I could not figure out how to add or subtract them. My mind was blank. Surprisingly, though, the next moment, I understood how to solve each one. I experienced the “proverbial light bulb moment”! Overjoyed, I began tackling them.
Meanwhile, the teacher called us to story time. I ignored her and stayed in my desk working the problems. When she approached me, she whispered, “Terri, it’s story time.”
Peering up, I asked, “May I keep working on my arithmetic?”
Shocked, she responded, “Yes, dear.” I’m sure she called my parents that day, and I rarely struggled academically after that day. Why? Because I had reached age seven – the average readiness age for formal academics. I never ran away from school again.
During those years and beyond, I was painfully shy. Hide-behind-my-mother’s-dress shy. Not an adventurer. I refused to take dance classes. I refused to attend overnight summer camps. Somehow, I made friends easily, but I never strayed too far from home.
While my shy-self managed to learn more easily, I remained the try-harder kid. I over-studied due to my past insecurities. Although I became an A or B student, my parents continued to handle me with ‘academic’ kid-gloves. They never demanded that I produce top grades. In fact, I think they harbored low expectations of me. At the time, I never knew that because my parents always surrounded me with loving support.
In high school, I took fun, extracurricular classes while my siblings stuck with the tougher academics. There were no AP classes in those days. Rather, middle and high schools offered “advanced” classes for the college-bound. Although my siblings took all those classes, I remained in the “average” classes.
Furthermore, my emotional immaturity haunted me all through my school years. Remember, I was nearly a year younger than my classmates. In fact, one of my friends was 14 months older than me! A year may not seem like much to an older person, but it is significant for developing youth.
Even though I found a love for learning, I was not always mature enough to process some academics. Those math story problems eluded me, and economics and literature evaluation mystified me.
Gradually, my shyness eased. In high school I was voted into the student council and as a class officer. I participated in Spanish speaking competitions where I spoke before an audience. I wonder if this shocked my parents.
Despite my required “average” middle and high school classes, I attended college. Although I loved my first year of college, my second year proved a disaster. I dropped out and worked at the University of Wisconsin library for two years before I re-enrolled. Best decision ever!
By then, I had matured, ready to master my classes. In 1971 during the Civil Rights Movement, I participated in an exchange program, spending a semester at Grambling College, an all-black school. Quite a radical move for a shy girl to experience what it was like living as a minority. Life changing, for sure. I was blossoming and enjoying college. There, I discovered a love for English and Library Science, graduating Magna Cum Laude in 1972 from the University of Wisconsin – Eau Claire. Me, the try harder girl - the girl who forgot how to hold her pencil and ran away from school.
Structure helped me navigate my college years, but once I was out in the world trying to navigate my adult life, I floundered. Despite my love for my career as a school librarian, my personal life grew messy. How do people build their lives outside of school? I knew not. Thus, my twenties proved a disaster. I’ll spare you the sordid details.
And, again, I’m sure my parents worried about me, hoping I wouldn’t muck up my entire life. Their little girl who had struggled in her early years was again struggling so tragically.
By 1976, I had grown weary of my shattered life. I needed a drastic change, so I moved to Fort Worth, Texas, where my sister and her family lived. There, I settled into my new life. Eventually, I met my brother-in-law’s best friend. Fourteen months later we married.
Marriage suited me. Then the children arrived. Motherhood suited me. As a child, I only dreamed of becoming a mommy – not a career outside of the home. I have always loved children, and, at last, I fulfilled my dream. Family life settled and fulfilled me. No more floundering, mucking up my life.
When I look back, I’m astonished. The shy, little girl who wet her pants, ran away from school, and struggled academically finally thrived. In fact, I become a pioneer. Who knew?!
I gave birth to all our children at home. In the 1980s and 90s, I homeschooled my children when it was extremely unpopular. To connect with other homeschooling families, I formed the first homeschool support group in Johnson County. I served as its leader for several years. Cleburne Home Educators still thrives today.
In the 1990s, I wrote my first book, Successful Homeschooling. You will find it in the Cleburne Public Library and online (www.writerightwithmrswhite.com). I also wrote educational articles for several magazines. Sometimes I gave presentations at homeschool events. I am still invited to give commencement addresses at homeschool graduation ceremonies.
After I turned 50, I pondered my life. What had I accomplished? My accomplishment? My marriage and my three amazing children! What better goal was there? None!
I also experienced another “proverbial light bulb moment”. In spite of my school years of academic angst, I was, indeed, smart! Shocking, I know, but those years long ago had ingrained a feeling that I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. No more! I knew my brain could slice the toughest steak with the best of them!
When I finished homeschooling my children, and they were off to college, I taught creative writing classes to homeschooled teens for 20 years. I wrote my own curriculum, which my students dubbed Write Right with Mrs. White.
In 2013, I founded T.E.A.C.H. Cleburne, a university-style school that offers `a la carte classes to homeschoolers, PreK4-12th grades. T.E.A.C.H. offers all the core classes and an array of electives. I taught my English classes for grades 7-12 at T.EA.C.H. while serving as its director. After I retired in 2023, I celebrated by going skydiving. This shy girl, who clung to her mom’s dress, jumped out of a plane! What a thrill!
When, in 2015, Cleburne Times-Review invited me to write a guest column, I jumped at the opportunity. I was teeming with ideas to write! On the heels of that, I surprised myself and published two books, "Back Porch Musings" and "Teeny-Tiny Tina and the Titmouse".
I waited a year before I leaped into any new ventures upon my retirement. Enter watercolor painting classes. A friend wanted to take a painting class. Me? Meh. But I’m a good sport. Spotting an ad for a weekly class, we decided to dip our toes in the water – literally. Ha! Although I took art in school and in college, I never considered myself an artist. As an adult, my only painting experience was at Painting with a Twist.
Surprisingly, I fell in love with the art and found I had a knack for it. A whole new side of me opened up that I never knew existed. Since then, I have framed, sold, and made some paintings into all-occasion greeting cards. I have not only gained a new skill, but also new friends. What a delight!
Just so no grass grew under my feet, I joined the Mentors Care program. The program assigns you a high school student with whom you spend an hour each week on the school campus. The goal is to help at-risk students stay in school and provide guidance in life. Helping young people navigate their teen years is rewarding. But more importantly, it improves the quality of their lives.
Then I decided to relearn the piano and spruce up my Spanish. These stimulate my brain and keep me around people. And I love people! Yes, this formerly shy girl loves people!
As I reflect on my struggles and endeavors, I’m amazed. This tall, shy girl who struggled in her early years was not only flapping her wings, but soaring. I learned to “feel the fear and do it anyway”.
Who knows what tomorrow may bring? No matter what, I will sail through whatever doors open for me because “nothing ventured, nothing gained”.
Through all these experiences, I’ve met hundreds of people who have enriched my life. My hope is that I have enriched theirs, as well. Because no matter what we “do”, it’s the people in our lives that matter most. If I have inspired, encouraged, comforted, and loved well, then that is all that matters.
If you enjoyed reading this, find more stories in Terri’s book, "Back Porch Musings", on Amazon in hard copy, Kindle, and Audible. https://a.co/d/iEmYezn. You can also find Terri’s children’s book, "Teeny-Tiny Tina and the Titmouse" on Amazon amazon.com/dp/B0H8KDXN65 .
Her hand-painted greeting cards can be purchased directly via email ([email protected]) or through Terri’s Etsy shop (https://www.etsy.com/shop/BackporchByTerri?ref=profile_header)
#
