Column: Divorce, not always bad for kids
Joshua Aromin
Issue date: 11/18/09 Section: Editorial/Opinion
11/18/09 - Nine years ago, I was lying awake in bed, listening to the destruction of my parents' 21-year marriage. I heard the sound of skin smacking skin, followed by my dad's voice yelling the word "bitch."
My parents were getting divorced, and it would be the greatest thing to ever happen to me.
A month earlier, I was in the Philippines with my parents on a four-week family vacation. My mom returned to Rhode Island early to get back to work. I stayed with my dad, who was on disabled leave for his rheumatoid arthritis.
While in the Philippines, my dad wanted me to meet a friend of his. This friend brought me to a mall, gave me toy cars and fed me Hawaiian pizza from Pizza Hut.
I would later find out that this was my dad's girlfriend, and the woman who ended my parents' marriage.
After the divorce, my dad moved to the Philippines and I was left with my mother. She could no longer afford the tuition for private school, and I was forced to transfer to my district's public middle school.
Until the sixth grade, I attended St. Matthew School with a class that had no more than 30 students.
I had no real friends and was a social hermit. I was shy and didn't know how to hold a conversation. At St. Matthew, I sought to be the smartest kid in class and that was it.
My dad engrained in my mind that grades were the only thing that mattered, and because of that I grew up sheltered.
While other kids were into Eminem, the Spice Girls and "South Park," I had no idea what they were talking about. At that age, I was listening to Elton John and Faith Hill. And I watched TV shows like "Supermarket Sweep," and "Antiques Roadshow."
I transferred to Hugh B. Bain Middle School into a sixth grade class with about 300 students.
On the first day of class, I sat in the auditorium with the rest of the sixth graders. I sat next to strangers. They all talked to each other while I was mute. To me they were weird; they were from another planet.
My parents were getting divorced, and it would be the greatest thing to ever happen to me.
A month earlier, I was in the Philippines with my parents on a four-week family vacation. My mom returned to Rhode Island early to get back to work. I stayed with my dad, who was on disabled leave for his rheumatoid arthritis.
While in the Philippines, my dad wanted me to meet a friend of his. This friend brought me to a mall, gave me toy cars and fed me Hawaiian pizza from Pizza Hut.
I would later find out that this was my dad's girlfriend, and the woman who ended my parents' marriage.
After the divorce, my dad moved to the Philippines and I was left with my mother. She could no longer afford the tuition for private school, and I was forced to transfer to my district's public middle school.
Until the sixth grade, I attended St. Matthew School with a class that had no more than 30 students.
I had no real friends and was a social hermit. I was shy and didn't know how to hold a conversation. At St. Matthew, I sought to be the smartest kid in class and that was it.
My dad engrained in my mind that grades were the only thing that mattered, and because of that I grew up sheltered.
While other kids were into Eminem, the Spice Girls and "South Park," I had no idea what they were talking about. At that age, I was listening to Elton John and Faith Hill. And I watched TV shows like "Supermarket Sweep," and "Antiques Roadshow."
I transferred to Hugh B. Bain Middle School into a sixth grade class with about 300 students.
On the first day of class, I sat in the auditorium with the rest of the sixth graders. I sat next to strangers. They all talked to each other while I was mute. To me they were weird; they were from another planet.
Be the first to comment on this story