She had reddish blond hair, long and wavy, and she was slender. Her hands and features were delicate, and on this particular day, she wore a cream-colored high necked, knit dress. I wish I could remember her name, or even what school it was, but I’m pretty sure it was 8th grade, and she was my English teacher.
The reason I remember this particular day is that I received what I thought was the “holy grail” of grades, and an acknowledgment I’d carry with me for decades. She gave me an A+ on my essay and told me I was a good writer.
I would like to say that accolades carried me into a career that has been fraught with success and high honors, but instead, I took home my accomplishment and gave it away. What I received back looked nothing like what I had handed off. “That’s nice, honey, but you really need to focus more on math. You’ll probably make more money as a bookkeeper or secretary.” Defeated, I dropped my face into a book, lauding, envying, and coveting the recognition of others, seemingly more suited to the task.
Looking back, I can see that had I listened to that still small voice that told me I was good enough, I could have stacks of novels or academic accomplishments to my credit; instead, I look back at the mountain I’ve climbed. I am nowhere near the summit, though I am at a precipice where I can see the world from a whole new point of view. That teacher started me on a path toward success that Arts and Letters cannot laud, but a life lived in curiosity and willingness to keep searching for the Truth.
I hate it when grown ups tell kids to concentrate on math instead of English because it will take them further in life. Don’t even get me started… ^_^
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