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Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

My High School Diploma

thI am involved in something abroad that requires finding my high school diploma.  Never mind that piece of paper was in my life about 100 years ago, and that my college degree will not suffice.  Even to homeschool in our area, the powers that be ask for the “teacher’s” high school diploma—so I attach a copy of my university diploma.

But now I need the high school diploma.  And I have no idea where that might be.

Therefore, I look up the high school to see if they’re online, and ask Benedetto to give them a call.

“Sure, a diploma?” repeats the lady in administration.  “Is it from more than three years ago?”high-school-diploma-ontario_4

“A little more than that…” he teases, then reveals the year of my high school graduation  which was more than three decades ago.

She bursts out laughing.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you with that,” the woman finally composes herself over the phone.  “I’ll refer you to another department in the county….”

“Ancient History?” he suggests.

More laughter. 

51111850High school graduationI’m glad they’re having so much fun.  I decide to call School Records myself.  Again, very sweet people who insist that I drive about an hour to present myself in person and receive a new high school diploma.

And bring a money order for $25.  And a driver’s license as I.D.

The moment I arrive, the guard/receptionist at the front door wants to compare years of graduation with me.  Turns out she’s a couple of years younger.  Great.

On to the Records Office itself, fueled by four middle-aged ladies.  They understand.

“Honey, we have records dating back to 1923— ” one reassures me.

“I think that will cover my situation,” I comment dryly while filling out the paperwork.

Ten minutes later, I receive a padded presentation binder, diploma nestled inside.  Gazing at my maiden Online-Courses-for-Your-High-School-Diplomaname, and high school name, a lump forms in my throat.  I feel the need to stand, or shake someone’s hand, or make a speech.  Instaad, the woman turns her gaze to my husband.

“Do you have YOUR high school diploma?” she inquires of him.

The two of us burst out laughing.

“Did you go to school in this area?” she follows-up.

“No, no,” he chuckles, while we both admit that he has no idea of where his high school diploma may be.

“I know he has other diplomas,” I acknowlege, “but as far as high school, I just have to take it on faith that he’s an educated man….”

She walks us to the door, and we step into the hot, humid air, a sense of accomplishment surrounding us from the simple piece of paper at last obtained.


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2 Comments : Leave a Reply

  1. avatar hoonew says:

    That trip and story were worth a hour each way!

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