Second Chapter Nomad

Before Second Chapter Nomad

May 2025 – I listed this as a chapter summary for my book proposal, but it is still unwritten. I’ve focused so heavily in the past five years as “Second Chapter Nomad”, “divorcee”, “empty nester”, that I almost have forgotten that person I was before all of that. I’m back in my hometown today, always with a swell of emotions. Five years a nomad and I’m still looking over my shoulder when I go out of my parents’ house. I’m so close to where Ex and his woman live in my family home of twenty years. My photo albums are locked away either in storage or still in the house with him. Memories are often better locked away.

Home Town Gym

I was in the gym on an ab machine, when right next to me were two “boys” (young men) who immediately looked familiar. “Isla Vista?” I asked with a quizzical grin. A second of who is this crazy lady, then immediately, “Mrs. D!” First shocker is I was right, and the second was hearing “Mrs.” which I haven’t been in a long time. It was J.C. I was his P.E. teacher fifteen (!!) years ago!

Track Team

We reminisced especially about the track team I created in 2010 (five years before McFarland USA!) of which he was a star. He was one of fifteen that qualified at meets to go to the state championship in San Bernardino, three hours away. I managed to get the principal’s blessing – and a school bus – and took the fifteen kids, and many of their family members on this big trip. Medals and smiles galore that day!

Memories

All day the memories have poured out. I searched through my phone and miraculously found photos in “the cloud”. As I searched for the P.E. and track team photos, of course it brought me back to days gone by, when I was a hands on mom (room mom, team mom, soccer mom), a wife, a homeowner, a teacher, a neighbor. I lived in that family home (eventually for twenty years before the pandemic and divorce), near Isla Vista Elementary School. 

My kids had gone to a wonderful crosstown public elementary school, and my son had graduated sixth grade there. In 2009, my daughter had finished fourth grade when they changed the rules and she had to leave to go to our neighborhood school. It was devastating to leave her friends and community after seven years there as a family. I decided to dust off my teaching credential (I taught in Spanish for seven years in my twenties, kindergarten in Los Angeles and third grade in Cleveland, Ohio to mostly recent immigrant children) and get back to teaching at her new school, Isla Vista. That first year I taught English to small groups of recent immigrant children.

Isla Vista

Isla Vista is in the college community of UC Santa Barbara (my alma mater), a mix of college students, partygoers, but also immigrant families. The school was “Title I” meaning a high percentage of low-income students. In this case, the school did not benefit from the wealthier communities such as where my kids were previously going to school. One of the biggest disappointments for my daughter (and me as a parent) was not getting to have the big fifth and sixth grade wilderness science camps that every student got to attend. I spoke with the principal, a wonderful can-do “yes” woman, who explained she would love to have these camps at her school, but if I was willing to make it happen, I’d have to raise the money for all 120 fifth and sixth graders. 

The Pitch

I learned I am not one to back down from a challenge. I wrangled my daughter and two neighborhood girls, and somehow got the Chancellor of UCSB Henry Yang to let us give a pitch at the Panhellenic Council (for Sororities and Fraternities) scholarship banquet that they should make Isla Vista Elementary School wilderness camps the charity recipient of their annual “Greek Week”.  They said YES! Meetings and committees were formed at UCSB, and soon the “Greeks” decided to throw an annual carnival at Isla Vista as well to benefit the wilderness camps. This raised a hefty amount of the price tag to make this dream a reality. 

It still wasn’t enough, and we didn’t have much time. With the principal’s encouragement, I learned how to write grants and approached local companies. Many said YES. Amazingly, in just a few months, we had raised the full amount for every fifth grader (one was my daughter) to go to Camp Whittier in the mountains for a week, and the sixth graders to go to CIMI (the beloved Catalina Island Marine Institute) for a week. It was truly miraculous. 

I continued to work at Isla Vista for four years, even after my daughter had graduated. The fifth and sixth grade camps were still going strong, along with the continued grants, and support of UCSB “Greeks”.  Last I heard they were still ongoing in 2019, and I heard the carnival is still to this day!

“Distinguished School”

In my last year at Isla Vista, once my kids were in junior and senior high schools (thus making drop offs and picks challenging for the three of us at different schools), the principal and I took on a new challenge, to apply to the state to get the “Distinguished School” award. This was the prestigious award, unusual and difficult for a Title I school to obtain. I used the grant writing skills I had learned on the go, and she and I worked for months on it. The teachers and staff, and hard working students were doing the work, but it was a challenge putting it on the page to get the award. In 2012, we received the award, and the plaque and mosaic stands in front of the school today. 

P.E. and Drama

Kristin, the P.E. teacher who asked me to co-teach that year with her, was also the theater instructor. She, along with dedicated teachers, ran the most impressive after school theater program in town! This is where my daughter discovered her love of acting. This carried forward through junior high, and ultimately I quit teaching and became a “momager” driving her to Hollywood for auditions and acting classes for the next four years. This is how she got into USC, as an acting major, and then transfered into the prestigious film school. 

Power of the Pivot

This is just a small chapter in the “Who I Used to Be” memories. But it’s a pivotal one in that everything I wrote above came from what first appeared to be a negative event, an unwanted life change. Look where it all led!

Thank you J.C. for opening this memory bank, and helping me to remember that running into familiar people in my hometown is a blessing. And we can’t always see that the fork in the road leads to unexpected outcomes and destinies.

Five Years a Nomad