Carmella's Quest: Taking On College Sight Unseen

By Red Letter Press

The true story of a blind young woman who must leave home to seek her independence or remain dependent upon others for life. This is her account of what it was like to leave home for the first time and enter upon a college education so she could make a life for herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Letter Press
• Release date: Nov 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465788740

Red Letter Press

Karen, a North Carolina native who moved to Greenwood, S.C., at age 5, has had a lifelong passion for reading. Living in a small town before the days of malls and the Internet, Karen found her source of entertainment to be books, and more books! In college, she turned her love for reading into a love for writing. She earned a bachelor’s degree in news-editorial journalism from the University of South Carolina and worked as a newspaper reporter and editor before beginning a career in public relations. Karen has a passion for writing books for children that teaches and inspires them. A charter member of the Carolina Guardian Society at the University of South Carolina, Karen serves on the Speakers Bureau of Sistercare in Columbia, S.C. She is a member of the Columbia Museum of Art, the Historic Columbia Foundation, Columbia Green, the Carolina Alumni Association, the Dog Writers Association of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Daughters of the American Revolution. Karen is the public relations director at the Arnold School of Public Health at USC.

Book preview

Carmella’s Quest:

Taking on College Sight Unseen

Carmella Broome

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Carmella Broome

Author photograph by Erik Dawson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the publisher.

Published by Red Letter Press

Columbia, South Carolina

[e-mail]

http://redletterpress.googlepages.com

Second Edition

For my supportive and loving family. Most especially for Chandler, Darren, and Kristy. I can’t find the words to express how much you mean to me. I never would have believed any three kids could capture such special places in my heart the way you have. I’m so proud to be your aunt. You bring so much happiness into my life just by being who you are. I love you!

Reader’s Note

When the publisher and I were trying to figure out a title for this book, we spent a lot of time shooting ideas back and forth. I either liked titles that were too simple and boring or too philosophical. Selecting a name might’ve been the hardest part of the entire process. How could I capture in a few words what this book was about and what it symbolized for me? He kept saying, Go back to why you wrote this. I started writing this book because I thought it was a pretty eventful and interesting time in my life. I believed the characters and various experiences I had were fairly entertaining and that enough went on to make a book out of it. I wanted to describe a segment of my life that was, for me at least, very important and meaningful. This was the launch point for my educational and career pursuits and, for me, becoming an independent adult. I thought it might be an entertaining and enjoyable read for other people as well. Some experiences are very unique to me as an individual, but a lot of the emotions and themes are hopefully something many people can connect with. This book has moments of happiness, sadness, humor, frustration, fear, and the gambit of authentic emotion. It is a book about goals and relationships and facing challenges in life. It just seemed like a story worth telling and I hope there are readers who will enjoy it. I’m so excited about the book finally going somewhere and about whatever new paths it takes me down.

I’ve tried to be as honest and straight forward as possible when sharing events and experiences. Of course, my own opinions and perceptions may be very different from the perspectives of the other people involved. I have tried to be accurate and fair and own this as my own take on things. I talk about the good and the more difficult experiences of this period of time because they happened, not because I needed a forum to embarrass or attack anyone. That is one of the trickier aspects of memoir writing. I have no ill feelings about anyone in this story and see all of my interactions as opportunities to learn about myself, other people, and life. Some names have been changed to protect privacy, but my close friends are who I say they are.

Prologue

Now, I’d like to present the award for Female Resident Student of the Year, announced a voice I recognized as Michelle’s. The Resident Assistants chose the recipient from among all of our on-campus girls.

I wonder who they picked, I thought distractedly, a lot more concerned about the algebra final looming over my head.

Everyone was assembled for the second to last chapel service of the year. The staff of Student Services was onstage presenting awards in various categories. The past twenty-five minutes had been a jumble of flowery speeches, applause, and stage crossings.

RAs had been honored, and various students had received awards for excelling in specific academic or athletic pursuits. Several staff members had been recognized for their support of student organizations.

The award goes to Carmella Broome.

I sat frozen for a moment, unable to believe what I’d just heard. My heart began to pound as the auditorium erupted into applause. I knew I should be thrilled, but all I felt was a sense of dread. How was I going to handle this? I had to make my way to the stage to accept the award, and I didn’t have my cane with me. I considered turning around to ask David for help, but I wanted to go by myself. I’d been up there before. There were steps and cords, and probably podiums and chairs. I could trip or run into something and really embarrass myself in front of all these people. I might fall down the stairs or step right off the edge of the stage. Was I familiar enough with the stage to chance negotiating it without help? Deciding that I was, I got up and, trying not to step on anyone’s feet, made my way toward the center aisle. God, I begged silently as I walked toward the stage, I know I’m being really stupid, but please help me get around up there.

Climbing the steps, I was relieved to hear Reverend Crouse’s low instructions. Watch these cords. Good. It’s a straight shot.

I walked forward into the brightness of the spotlights, mentally coaching myself to keep my head up and not shuffle my feet.

Here I am, Michelle whispered, placing a plaque in my hands. Congratulations. Look to your left a little so they can take your picture for the paper.

I turned my head and smiled. The camera flashed. Amidst another round of applause and cheers, I turned to make my way back across the stage. Now came the hardest part. How was I going to find that top step? I slowed down when I neared where I knew the steps to be, probing the area with my foot. I felt Reverend Crouse’s hand on my arm. There’s the step, he murmured.

Thank you, I whispered, descending the steps carefully.

Thrilled that I’d made it down from the stage without incident or embarrassment, I turned up the center aisle and counted rows until I reached the sixth one. Trying not to step on anyone’s feet once again, I counted my way past the first seven chairs. As I sank gratefully into my assigned chapel seat, thankful that I hadn’t miscalculated and wound up in someone’s lap, I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. David’s voice whispered, Congratulations.

With the ordeal of accepting the award behind me, I was finally able to turn my attention to the plaque Michelle had placed in my shaking hands. No one could possibly guess how much it meant to me. I had no idea what it said, but that didn’t matter. The public recognition wasn’t what made it so special, though that was certainly nice. To me, the plaque’s truest value was what it represented. It was a tangible symbol of success. I had done something I hadn’t been sure I really could do. I’d successfully completed my first year of college.

Chapter One

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and reached over to flip through channels on the radio for what had to be the hundredth time. Everything was pretty much the same as it had been five m inutes ago. The classical station was still playing somebody’s violin concerto. The guy on the country channel was still wailing mournfully. Commercials were on several channels. I paused momentarily to listen to a song I normally liked, but for some reason it didn’t sound as good as I remembered. I hesitated for a couple seconds before punching the scan button again.

Mom cleared her throat loudly.

Did you like that song? I asked, ready to turn back.

Not really, she said. I’d just be happy to get to hear any song all the way through.

Sorry. I forced my hand away from the radio. I knew my habit of constantly changing stations drove her crazy.

I pressed the button on my talking watch.

It’s three forty-five p.m., the computerized voice announced.

We’d been on the road since one o’clock. What should’ve been only a three-hour drive seemed to be taking forever. A steady rain that had been falling since Mom and I left home was making the ride longer by slowing down traffic, but that alone couldn’t account for the fact that I felt as if I’d been in the car for days. My own nervousness had to be the real reason the ride seemed eternal.

Almost there, Mom said.

My stomach began to knot up. I can’t believe this is happening, I thought. In a matter of minutes, I would step into a strange new world called college. I knew nothing about that mysterious place and, suddenly, wasn’t at all eager to learn. Though I’d known this change was coming for months, and I should have been more emotionally ready, I was completely overwhelmed and unprepared. I felt as panicked and caught off guard as I might have if I’d been given twenty-four hours notice that this would be happening. It seemed ridiculous that I should feel so unsure of a transition I’d known for several years was coming.

Not long after entering high school, I’d begun to understand that college would be a necessity for me. The realization had come gradually, starting more as a vague awareness and growing slowly toward irrefutable certainty. It became increasingly obvious to me that, as a legally blind person, I would have to acquire knowledge and skills related to a specific line of work if I ever wanted a good job.

Besides, I knew I could never be content with just any job. I had been blessed, or perhaps cursed, with too much ambition and motivation for that. I would never be able to settle for simply earning a paycheck. I wanted a career I would enjoy investing mental and emotional energy in. I wanted to do something I would love, something meaningful. I wasn’t completely sure what that something was yet, but by the time I was sixteen I knew it would be related in some way to psychology or counseling. Once that decision had been made, I knew that college was even more vital, since most fields involving those areas required higher education.

Not long after I decided on the general area I wanted to study, I discovered something about myself that moved my thoughts about college beyond mere necessity.

As I began to take greater interest in academics, I was surprised at how much I loved feeding my mind with new information. I had a hunger for knowledge that was in no way based on the practical need for it. I wanted to continue learning. I respected both the process and the result of being well-educated and wanted to become someone who could be described that way. This understanding, once again, led me to conclude that the best course of action for me would be to go straight from high school to college.

The big question was where. Several good universities were located near where I lived. I knew I could get a quality education at any of them and stay in the home and community I’d lived in for seventeen years. This would mean less stress on me because I wouldn’t have to deal with adjusting to an unfamiliar environment. It would also mean less of an economic burden on my parents. Even so, I never seriously considered local colleges an option. I didn’t want to spend another eight semesters sitting in classrooms with the same people I’d known in high school. Somehow, though we’d spent four years chatting in the halls and eating lunch together in the cafeteria, few of them had become more than acquaintances to me. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t been able to cultivate more lasting relationships, but I had no desire to spend another four years the same way. I wanted a new environment with new people.

My aunt was the first person to tell me about a small Baptist college called North Greenville. She lived relatively near the campus and mentioned it to me one weekend when she and her family came to visit us. I told her I’d keep it in mind, but, at the time, I was only a sophomore in high school and college seemed foreign, overwhelming, and blessedly far away. I wouldn’t have to start seriously thinking about it for another year, at least.

But other people were thinking about it. The topic of my college plans began to come up more and more often in conversations. Not knowing what to say and uncomfortable with the subject, I would respond that I was looking into going to North Greenville. This statement always met with positive responses.

Then, the summer before my senior year, two students from North Greenville did some work with my church youth group. After learning of my interest, they passed my name along to a representative from NGC named Andy Ray. Andy called one evening to talk to me about the school. He asked about my areas of interest, told me more about the college, and promised to send me additional information and an application.

According to Andy and the brochures I received shortly after his phone call, North Greenville College was a small, co-educational, liberal arts institution affiliated with the South Carolina Baptist Convention. After I translated all that into everyday English, I decided that NGC offered several things that could be very beneficial to me. Small meant that, hopefully, I wouldn’t be just a faceless number and could have more personal interaction with instructors. Coeducational meant guys. In fact, Andy told me after I had asked about the girl-to-guy ratio that more men than women were on campus. This was of some interest to me since I was a young single female who didn’t plan to spend every waking minute studying. The school’s emphasis on Christian beliefs and values also meant a lot to me because I held the same convictions. The more I thought about studying at such a school, the more the idea appealed to me.

I saw only two drawbacks. The first was the distance from home. NGC was a three-hour drive from where I lived. This meant that I would have to stay in the dorms and that I would have to turn to someone besides my parents for any help I needed. That thought was distressing to me; I hadn’t spent a lot of time away from home and wasn’t sure I felt independent enough to risk it. The other drawback was that North Greenville had, for many years, been a junior college and was only just beginning to offer four-year degrees in various areas—and unfortunately psychology was not one of them. I could get my two-year degree from there, but if I wanted to continue studying a social science, I would have to transfer to another school.

After careful consideration, I decided it might be good for me to have to handle things without so much help from my parents. Besides, NGC was growing and expanding in many areas. Psychology might soon be one of them. This would mean I wouldn’t have to transfer. I decided to apply and was accepted before I began my senior year of high school.

I never bothered checking into any other colleges. I threw away all the brochures that came in the mail about various universities and didn’t go to the College Day activities at school. I saw no reason to go through all the hassle when I liked everything I heard about North Greenville. At least, that’s what I told people. Actually, I didn’t want to have to think about something as unknown and overwhelming as college. Illogically, I told myself that something would happen to keep me from going. It had to.

But nothing did. And now, here I was, about to enter that strange new world, and no matter how I felt, I had no choice but to go through with it. Anything less would be quitting, and I was too proud to even consider doing that. I had decided to go away to college because I was tired of the confining life of my small town. This was an opportunity for me to make new friends and experience new things.

Besides, I wasn’t going to be completely alone, I reminded myself. A friend from my church was starting her freshman year at North Greenville, too. The couple who had worked with my youth group would be there, and so would another married couple from my hometown. My aunt and her family lived only 45 minutes away. Things couldn’t be so bad as long as I knew somebody, I tried to assure myself.

Here we are, Mom announced.

I’m going to throw up, I thought, feeling the car slow to a stop.

From what Mom and Dad told me when we came for pre-registration, I had a pretty good idea of what the college looked like. NGC was made up of various old brick buildings clustered in a compact circle and located in the foothills of upstate South Carolina in a small town called Tigerville. The Blue Ridge Mountains were visible from almost anywhere on campus.

We parked near the dorm that I would be staying in, and Mom opened an umbrella as I unfolded my cane. We hurried to White Hall, the building in which all faculty members had offices.

Hi! Andy greeted us exuberantly when we reached his office. Isn’t this weather awful? I’m glad you made it safely. We’ve got flashflood watches out and everything. He put a hand on my shoulder. So, are you ready for this?

I hope so, I said, trying to smile.

Andy and I had been in regular contact over the past few months, and I found him very friendly and helpful. The instinctive liking I’d taken to him during our first phone conversation had been strengthened in our talks because of his interest in making my adjustment to college as painless as possible.

We’re flexible, he’d assured me. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll do my best to see that it’s taken care of.

Before and after I arrived on campus, Andy had done quite a bit of behind-the-scenes work on my behalf. NGC hadn’t worked with many students with disabilities, so there wasn’t a designated department set up to handle the special needs of such students. Because Andy was my on-campus contact person, he was the first to hear about my specific set of considerations and needed accommodations and the first to get the ball rolling to work them out.

We can go ahead and get your final registration stuff finished before the mob gets here next Tuesday, he said, after inviting us to have a seat. I guess the first thing you’ll need to do is go over to Student Services and get your room keys. They put you in Howard, right?

I nodded. One of the decisions Andy had helped make was which of the four women’s dorms would be best for me. He and other staff members had decided that Howard Hall was the best choice because of its larger rooms and central location.

Mom and I stayed and talked with Andy a few minutes, waiting for the rain, now a downpour, to let up a little, but we finally decided to make a run for it to Student Services.

As we got up to leave, the couple who had worked with my youth group on several occasions appeared in the doorway. It had been a while since we’d seen them, and I’d been hoping to run into them on campus sometime soon. I was pleased it had happened so quickly.

I’m really glad you decided to come here, Kim said, giving me a hug.

Are you going to audition for Joyful Sound? Mike asked.

Joyful Sound was a singing group made up of NGC students who were selected by audition. The group performed contemporary Christian and southern gospel music and traveled around the state to various churches and other locations several times a week. Mike and Kim had both been a part of the group; after hearing me sing at church one Sunday, they’d told me about JS and encouraged me to audition.

They’d love to have you, Mike had told me. And you have the voice for it.

When Andy called to talk with me about NGC, he, too, had brought up the subject.

Mike spoke of you very highly, he’d said, and it takes a lot to impress him.

That knowledge was very affirming. I respected Mike and Kim a lot and regarded them as excellent singers. But I wasn’t so sure about working with Joyful Sound. I had serious doubts about my vocal abilities and even more doubts about dealing with the travel involved.

Maybe next semester, I told Mike. I figured I would need at least one term to get adjusted to college life before I took on such a big commitment.

That’s wise, he said. Don’t forget about it, though. Your time here will fly by, and there’ll probably be several things you’ll want to do. But JS is a great opportunity. I know you’d love it.

They’d love you, too, Kim added.

I won’t forget, I promised.

Come by tomorrow if you need anything, Andy said as we finally left.

Student Services, like White Hall, was buzzing with activity. People scurried around to pull files, key in information on computers, and answer phones that were ringing off the hook.

I’ll be so glad when this semester finally gets started! one woman exclaimed, sinking into a chair. How can I help you?

I told her who I was and explained that I’d come up early to get familiar with the campus.

There was another blind girl here a couple years ago, she remarked. Her name was Carrie. Couldn’t see a thing, bless her heart. Let me get Michelle, our Women’s Housing Coordinator, to talk with you.

Andy had mentioned Carrie to me, and I would hear her name at least fifty more times during my first year of college. In fact, I would be addressed as Carrie at least half of those times. I came to regard the inevitable mistake as an honor since people always spoke highly of her.

Hi, Carmella, I’m Michelle, said a voice from the doorway. I’m really glad you’re here. Let me give you your keys. I heard the familiar jingle and reached out to take them. One is for the outside door into Howard and the other is for your room, she explained. Yours is the first one on the right on the bottom floor. My apartment is just down the hall from you.

Michelle also gave me a booklet, The Enlightener, which was second only to the Bible when it came to the Written Law at NGC. It contained all campus rules, regulations, and policies. Students were expected to be thoroughly familiar with it and to abide by all its teachings.

The next item of business was to check out the room that would be mine for the next seven months. There were several entrances to Howard Hall, and Mom pulled the car around to the back door so we could unload it later on. We went inside, climbed a flight of stairs, and passed through another door and a set of double doors before entering a long hall with about ten rooms on each side. As Michelle had said, my room was the first on the right. I had been trying to make mental notes about all the places I was going, but I was already getting confused.

We unlocked the door to Howard 32, and I began to explore my new living area. As Mom described each piece of furniture, I moved from item to item, taking mental note of its location and trying to combine all the small pieces of information into an accurate picture of the space and what it included.

My room, like all the others in Howard Hall, was about twelve feet by sixteen feet and contained two twin beds, one by the window and one by the door. Each of the beds had a drawer in the side of it and was bolted to the wall. Between them was a long desk with two lights, two chairs, two sets of drawers, and two sets of shelves. Across the room, on the opposite wall, stood a sink with cabinets, two closets with a single drawer in the bottom and cabinets on top, and a small dressing table with two drawers underneath. A door also led into the bathroom my roommate and I would share with our two suitemates. A heating and air-conditioning unit sat beneath the window. Over the sink were mirrors and florescent lights. Blinds hung from the window.

At first, it seemed there would be plenty of room, but when we started unpacking the car, I realized there wasn’t quite as much space as I had thought. And a lot of my stuff was still at home, waiting to be brought up by Dad the following day. Fortunately, part of that load included a desk—with several drawers—to put my talking computer on, and Mom had bought a set of stackable shelves that she planned to assemble later in the evening. Surely there would be space for everything. For now, I went to work putting away the stuff I had brought with me.

You need some carpet in here, Mom said. These concrete floors will get awfully cold during the winter.

I agreed. Blue carpet would be nice and would give the place a homier look. I’d always wanted blue carpet.

We need to get some pictures and posters for your half of the wall space, she went on.

I wouldn’t be able to see them once they were hung, but I knew such visuals were important to other people and would give the room more character.

I was hanging the last of my clothes in my closet, and Mom was trying to make sense of the instructions for putting the shelves together, when someone knocked on the door.

Hi, I’m Christina, the girl in the doorway introduced herself. Andy told me you were here, and I thought I’d come by.

I invited her in and we talked for a few minutes. She told me that she often babysat Andy’s little girl and that she was an RA.

RA? I echoed, not sure what she meant.

Resident Assistant, she said. We help supervise the dorms. You know, keep noise levels down and stuff. We also conduct hall meetings and distribute materials to the students on our halls. I’m the RA for the floor above this one. We call it top Howard.

She asked where I was from and what I would be studying. I fought against my customary shyness, answered her questions, and directed similar ones her way. I was eager to know more about the school, and Christina seemed eager to discuss it.

Do you have a boyfriend? she asked at one point.

I shook my head. The more complicated answer to her question was that there was a man I was interested in, but he was quite a bit older than me. We’d discussed our mutual interest and decided it was important that I not be tied down to one person my first year of college. We planned to talk on the phone sometimes, and get together on occasion, but for all intents and purposes, I was very much a single woman. I figured that was all Christina really needed to know.

Good! she exclaimed. "There are