We all have a dozen or so stories that coalesce to define us. Today I am sharing one such story. Because this tale has a fine oral tradition, I thought it would be nice for me to read it out loud. You can click here to hear it. It is by no means a perfect recording, but it is me reading it to Daisy just before we published. Just as a warning, this post does run about three times the length of a normal WD post. If you can’t get through it now, please come back to it later.
Enjoy.
My high school had something called Academic Decathlon, a kind of kid quiz for the college bound; a contest pitting six of the mightiest minds from each of the state’s alma maters in a match to determine which campus housed the most gray matter. I don’t know how towering one’s intellect actually had to be, the baseline really couldn’t have been much more than to the tip of the tree tops, as I was asked to be on my high school’s team.
In fact, my guidance counselor wanted me to play ball so badly, she got me to walk off the field forever.
Let’s rewind.
By the time I was facing my guidance counselor, leaning forward in an armchair saturated by the sweat of an endless procession of adolescents, circumstance had set me on a a hopscotch across 8 different schools, an average of one every other year since birth.
This was my second high school. The first, an unfortunate engagement booked at a local Catholic college prep. This adds a dash of humor seeing as how my family was neither Catholic nor scholastic. The decision to enroll me was arrived at when my parents concluded, despite my protest, that the combination of my neighborhood school and the loud mouth fastened to my face was a potentially lethal merger.
The high school that served as setting for this particular tale was exceptional, at least by common criterion. Not only were the academics admired for miles around, the pleasant neighborhood lent itself rather naturally to an open campus where a short holiday could be booked by the simple submission of a well practiced signature.
Despite the open grounds, there was just one method to gain entry into the student body of this coveted school outside an enviable address, and that was through the school’s extracurricular annex – the High School for the Performing Arts.
I loved the idea of going to a slightly separate high school offering up classes in theater, graphic design, dance, music, and a myriad of other electives. I was especially attracted to drama, but because my face at the time was just recovering from a two year spell of looking like the inside of a Domino’s delivery box, I was loathe to stand on stage in front of an audience of judgmental peers for a performance, let alone the audition required of all new applicants.
My mom suggested I sing, “there are no strings to hold me down” from Pinnochio while wearing the lederhosen she had actually sewn. I’m not joking, but that’s a horrifying enough topic for its own post.
I ended up applying to “Technical Theater,” the limb of the academy that tightened the nuts and bolts of the rest of the body. I loved the learning and the hands on work. I didn’t love the extended daily days that teased the dark in winter, alongside occasional abbreviated weekends, when all I really wanted to do at 16 was work long and hard enough to gather enough dollars to get me out of Dodge.
By the time I was leaning forward in that armchair, my contempt for the system was already rolling to a boil. The spoiled students at that school were hard enough to stomach, but mostly I couldn’t abide the massive amount of missing minutes recklessly mined from an ineffective day. I have always loved to learn and it is one of the few disappointments of a mostly favored life that I consistently found myself as a youth wandering down halls of learning that housed little more than the empty echo of abandoned promise.
I’ll use my Geometry class as an example, because it is one that once raised my ire and yet has now with a decade and a half of distance twisted it toward a smile. In Geometry, we received one point for each homework assignment completed, these points then added to our test grade. There were usually about twenty assignments per unit. A student who did all the assignments, yet scored an 80% on the unit test, would then garner a perfect score of 100%.
I had no difficulty in getting a hundred from the merit of my mind and saw zero value in spinning wheels with busywork at home.
My teacher took issue with my lack of respect for her curriculum. I understood and responded. I told her I didn’t mind doing homework, but felt it should be worth my time. I had demonstrated no need for the extra practice and if she could perhaps provide me with some different work I would be happy to do it. Nope, she said, I could do the same work as everyone else.
I remember sitting in classes feeling minutes slip through my fingers that I would never hold again. I felt as though my school weeks were light on benefit and high in cost. I had been contemplating the GED or some sort of alternative future for a while by the moment providence placed me in the armchair.
The decathlon worked with six students divided into three categories: 2 A’s, 2 B’s, and 2 C’s. Guess which one I was? Gathering the A’s was easy. The gentleman leading the A-Team read trigonometry text books for grins, the other is probably lecturing to his class at MIT right about now. Quality C’s were a lot harder to come by, but the combination of my SAT and GPA made for a cocktail captivating enough for my guidance counselor to call me into her office for a meeting.
My guidance counselor gave me a long pitch, trying to convince me life would be rainbow water slides flowing into pools of milk chocolate if I were only to agree to be one of the team. All I had to do was trade tech for decathlon.
The downsides: My senior year would see school days that ran until 5:00 PM, Monday through Friday, along with Saturdays from early morning to afternoon.
The upsides: My SAT scores combined with my commitment to the decathlon could ostensibly grant me entrance into the college of my choosing.
“No thank you,” I said.
It was only at that moment, seeing the surprise trying to soothe the sudden anger in my counselor’s eyes that I realized she’d given this pitch before. Maybe not exactly, maybe not even for the decathlon, but she was used to both cold calling and closing the deal.
In retrospect, the Academic Decathlon was a tremendous opportunity; a long awaited chance to absorb information at the pace I had always craved. Not only did I fail to see it through that prism, that angle was never displayed at all. Her pitch was all about what she could do for me, all the while operating under the assumption that I wanted the same things that everybody else did. The truth was, I wasn’t feeling too keen on college. If secondary education offered even a fraction of the boredom of my previous years, I wasn’t interested. I wanted to build a business with my bare hands and didn’t want to hurry up and wait four more years to do it.
“No?” she repeated the question as though shaking my head alongside my answer wasn’t universal. “Did you not understand what I said?”
“I understood perfectly,” I replied.
“Well, Mr. Platt,” she dug deep into her superiority, “I can most certainly tell you that you are making a huge mistake.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“You won’t be able to get into a good college without my recommendation,” she said, though we all know I mean threatened.
“I’m not planning to go to college.” I let the moment settle as the Earth’s atmosphere absorbed the words that before that moment had never been anything but idle contemplation.
“You’re not planning on going to college?” I think in reality she merely sneered the question, but in my memory there is raining spittle and my guidance counselor is twirling a monocle like Snidley Whiplash.
“Nope.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and shook my head.
“Well then, Mister, You WILL FAIL.”
I wish that was only my memory, but alas those are indeed the front page, bold type words given breath by someone pulling a taxpayer paycheck to help effectively guide youth toward the most gilded of their goals. I stared in disbelief, for one of the first times in my life absolutely speechless. She viewed this as an invitation to add hue to the horror.
“I will look you up in ten years just to see how far you’ve fallen.”
At that point in my life, I had been known to get a bit riled up under such circumstances. Not so on this day. My anger in that moment was as deep as any ravine my emotions have ever run, but it merely hung pregnant like an an enraged cloud clinging to the horizon, unwilling to rain across the arid wasteland of her ambiance.
I calmly demanded my transcripts, immediately left campus, and drove across town to enroll in city college. Fortunately, there was a GED test scheduled for that coming Saturday so I was a certified graduate by the end of the weekend.
My parents were both amazing. My father asked me if I was sure I’d made the right decision. My mom probably gave me a high five chased by an off color joke or three, I can’t honestly recall. Regardless, both supported me in full.
I did have one teacher come to check on me. She was the best teacher I had at that school, and one of the best I ever had period. She taught English and was, I believe, the first person to give deep compliment to my writing. She came to my work one day carrying a smile and an “are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said, “I am.”
I ran into my guidance counselor seven years later, three years shy of our appointment. She was one of those souls I always expected to see again. I had mentally rehearsed the million and one things I was sure to let tumble loose from my mouth as soon as I did.
Alas, there is no high drama to conclude this tale. I looked different that day; my hair trim and neck more than just adam’s apple. I was leaving the bank just as my guidance counselor was entering. Her hands were juggling bags, my mind was wrangling sudden feeling. I could see her on the other side of the tinted glass, but she could not yet see me. I swung the door open and held it. She passed through the threshold and my heart stopped, two entire beats.
She turned around and looked at me with no visible recognition. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” I smiled from instinct. “Have a nice day.”
I nodded, turned around, and let the door swing shut behind me.
As I crossed the street to the flower cart I had purchased shortly after my 18th birthday, I wondered, “did she recognize me?” The light turned from red to green. I stepped into the street, thought of my pregnant wife waiting at home, and thanked her.
Writer Dad
Sean Platt is now a ghostwriter and father who lives happily ever after.
About Sean Platt
At the very least, email this link to that counseling department. The old biddy is probably retired by now. Good riddance. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if these types actually had to take a course in sales – maybe features vs benefits. Nice job on this one, Sean.
At the very least, email this link to that counseling department. The old biddy is probably retired by now. Good riddance. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if these types actually had to take a course in sales – maybe features vs benefits. Nice job on this one, Sean.
Oh, that is HORRIBLE. I agree with Betsy 100%. People like that do so much damage to students.
P.S. You look ADORABLE in your photo!
Oh, that is HORRIBLE. I agree with Betsy 100%. People like that do so much damage to students.
P.S. You look ADORABLE in your photo!
Oh, how much this sounds like my situation. I NEVER liked traditional schooling and I always had teachers and other school faculty telling me how much I NEEDED to go to college if I ever wanted to amount to anything. I couldn’t help but see them in all their unhappiness and think, “THEY went to college and I certainly don’t see any kind of satisfaction coming from THEIR lives.”
Anyway, many props for how you handled it. You stood your ground and knew that only YOU knew what was and wasn’t worth your time. Don’t get me wrong, I know that school and college are very necessary for many pursuits, but I just think it’s value has gone WAY down and it certainly isn’t for everyone. Eric
Oh, how much this sounds like my situation. I NEVER liked traditional schooling and I always had teachers and other school faculty telling me how much I NEEDED to go to college if I ever wanted to amount to anything. I couldn’t help but see them in all their unhappiness and think, “THEY went to college and I certainly don’t see any kind of satisfaction coming from THEIR lives.”
Anyway, many props for how you handled it. You stood your ground and knew that only YOU knew what was and wasn’t worth your time. Don’t get me wrong, I know that school and college are very necessary for many pursuits, but I just think it’s value has gone WAY down and it certainly isn’t for everyone. Eric
Betsy: She is retired actually. Funny thing, I’ve heard a few similar stories from fellow compatriots; people I didn’t know at the time, but apparently we have something in common. I like that, Betsy, features vs. benefits. That would be cool. Thanks for the compliment. I’ve never written this story down before. It felt good to get it down outside of a verbalization.
Hayden: Yup, and thanks. I think I look like I’m trying to audition for top ten dorks or something. Truly heinous, that. You should see my prom picture that was shot five months later, where I’m wearing hair past the shoulders. Scary stuff.
Eric: The college thing is less and less relevant everyday. College, at least as it exists now, I believe will be dead by the time my children are ready to reap any benefit it might offer. Honestly though, I would be surprised if either of my children attended college, not because I would discourage them to go, but simply because I believe that they will be graveyards in another fifteen years.
Betsy: She is retired actually. Funny thing, I’ve heard a few similar stories from fellow compatriots; people I didn’t know at the time, but apparently we have something in common. I like that, Betsy, features vs. benefits. That would be cool. Thanks for the compliment. I’ve never written this story down before. It felt good to get it down outside of a verbalization.
Hayden: Yup, and thanks. I think I look like I’m trying to audition for top ten dorks or something. Truly heinous, that. You should see my prom picture that was shot five months later, where I’m wearing hair past the shoulders. Scary stuff.
Eric: The college thing is less and less relevant everyday. College, at least as it exists now, I believe will be dead by the time my children are ready to reap any benefit it might offer. Honestly though, I would be surprised if either of my children attended college, not because I would discourage them to go, but simply because I believe that they will be graveyards in another fifteen years.
“I tucked my hair behind my ear …” not with that hairstyle mate ;)
In fact I want to see that hairstyle re-born, in a video post over on the Blueprint!
Kudos to you for standing firm in your beliefs. When faced with those kinds of attitudes you’re either going to crumble or garner a new kind of conviction as you strive to prove them wrong.
“I tucked my hair behind my ear …” not with that hairstyle mate ;)
In fact I want to see that hairstyle re-born, in a video post over on the Blueprint!
Kudos to you for standing firm in your beliefs. When faced with those kinds of attitudes you’re either going to crumble or garner a new kind of conviction as you strive to prove them wrong.
You handled yourself so well at such a young age.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t recognize you. As you said, she probably made that speech countless times before, and after. I’m sure you weren’t the only victim of her uncompromising rigidity.
I LOVE the ending: “Sean Platt is now a ghostwriter and lives happily ever after.” :)
You handled yourself so well at such a young age.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t recognize you. As you said, she probably made that speech countless times before, and after. I’m sure you weren’t the only victim of her uncompromising rigidity.
I LOVE the ending: “Sean Platt is now a ghostwriter and lives happily ever after.” :)
1. Seriously cute photo! You look very Max-like. Sometimes I look at pics of Max and think that he is just as gorgeous as his mother and in other pics I think that he is the spittin’ image of his handsome dad. No way the kid could go wrong!
2. Major pet peeve: people who tell other people what they can’t do. Ugh. I am hoping she was having a bad day and that this was not her MO for inspiring students to do great things. If it was, she FAILED! We have a slogan in our classroom that says, “There is no can’t.” Someone utters the forbidden word—we say “Pick another word. There is no can’t.”
3. I’m singing the praises of your parents right now for raising you in such a way that they could have full confidence in your decision. Way to go Writer Mom and Dad!
4. I have been lucky enough to work with and work for entrepreneurs. They are a distinct personality type that gets no benefit from college. They ARE college. We learn from THEM. We ask them, “How did you do that?”
To put that personality type into an inflexible school system only kills their spirits. If they need to learn something to further their goals, THEN they take the steps to learn it, but at an accelerated rate. You, from what little I have ascertained over the past few months, are an entrepreneurial type. My son is another. At age ten, his brain is constantly thinking of ways to make money. School drives him bonkers because he would rather be working, amassing his millions. That’s it! I’ll start Entrepreneur School! :)
1. Seriously cute photo! You look very Max-like. Sometimes I look at pics of Max and think that he is just as gorgeous as his mother and in other pics I think that he is the spittin’ image of his handsome dad. No way the kid could go wrong!
2. Major pet peeve: people who tell other people what they can’t do. Ugh. I am hoping she was having a bad day and that this was not her MO for inspiring students to do great things. If it was, she FAILED! We have a slogan in our classroom that says, “There is no can’t.” Someone utters the forbidden word—we say “Pick another word. There is no can’t.”
3. I’m singing the praises of your parents right now for raising you in such a way that they could have full confidence in your decision. Way to go Writer Mom and Dad!
4. I have been lucky enough to work with and work for entrepreneurs. They are a distinct personality type that gets no benefit from college. They ARE college. We learn from THEM. We ask them, “How did you do that?”
To put that personality type into an inflexible school system only kills their spirits. If they need to learn something to further their goals, THEN they take the steps to learn it, but at an accelerated rate. You, from what little I have ascertained over the past few months, are an entrepreneurial type. My son is another. At age ten, his brain is constantly thinking of ways to make money. School drives him bonkers because he would rather be working, amassing his millions. That’s it! I’ll start Entrepreneur School! :)
@ Randi Number 2 reminds me of this short green guy I once saw; he would say “Try not. Do or do not, there is no try”. Apt words in my rarely-humble opinion.
Entrepreneurs don’t get any benefit from college they ARE college – what a great way to put it!
@ Randi Number 2 reminds me of this short green guy I once saw; he would say “Try not. Do or do not, there is no try”. Apt words in my rarely-humble opinion.
Entrepreneurs don’t get any benefit from college they ARE college – what a great way to put it!
Marc: You should’ve seen it a few months later, Yo. Well past my shoulders and super embarrassing. Maybe I’ll wear a wig for my next video post. Yeah, she pushed me in the wrong direction, but it ended up being absolutely the right direction for me.
Vered: Thanks on the ending. It was the only part that got tweaked. Despite this post being a lot longer than my normal length, it came out immediately. Almost no thought to push the words. The ending, however, did get changed. Twice. And the final tagline, put there for the ghostwriterdad link was definitely the cherry on top.
Randi: Seriously, what can I say? That may be my favorite comment of the day. In fact. I’m going to go in later (remind me if I forget) and add a comment of the day link: “They ARE college.” That’s so cool I might have a t-shirt printed. I’m grinning ear to ear. Cindy’s coming upstairs in like 5 minutes. I can’t wait to read it to her. Great thought, Randi.
Unfortunately, I believe it was more than just a singular bad day. Cindy has a saying that I really like that she uses with her students: “Can’t lives on Won’t Street.”
Marc: Seriously, how awesome is that? High five for Randi!
Marc: You should’ve seen it a few months later, Yo. Well past my shoulders and super embarrassing. Maybe I’ll wear a wig for my next video post. Yeah, she pushed me in the wrong direction, but it ended up being absolutely the right direction for me.
Vered: Thanks on the ending. It was the only part that got tweaked. Despite this post being a lot longer than my normal length, it came out immediately. Almost no thought to push the words. The ending, however, did get changed. Twice. And the final tagline, put there for the ghostwriterdad link was definitely the cherry on top.
Randi: Seriously, what can I say? That may be my favorite comment of the day. In fact. I’m going to go in later (remind me if I forget) and add a comment of the day link: “They ARE college.” That’s so cool I might have a t-shirt printed. I’m grinning ear to ear. Cindy’s coming upstairs in like 5 minutes. I can’t wait to read it to her. Great thought, Randi.
Unfortunately, I believe it was more than just a singular bad day. Cindy has a saying that I really like that she uses with her students: “Can’t lives on Won’t Street.”
Marc: Seriously, how awesome is that? High five for Randi!
@Sean I think it’s odds on favourite for quote of the week!
@Sean I think it’s odds on favourite for quote of the week!
Though I think college can be beneficial for one’s intellectual development – it is by no means even remotely necessary for people to reach their highest potential.
More, colleges tend to be very monolithic in their ideology in some ways, and that can have its own detriment on students.
Either way, the notion you will fail because you won’t attend college is laughable. Failure has nothing to do with whether one attends college. It has to do with how one uses his or her time.
Though I think college can be beneficial for one’s intellectual development – it is by no means even remotely necessary for people to reach their highest potential.
More, colleges tend to be very monolithic in their ideology in some ways, and that can have its own detriment on students.
Either way, the notion you will fail because you won’t attend college is laughable. Failure has nothing to do with whether one attends college. It has to do with how one uses his or her time.
“That’s so cool I might have a t-shirt printed.”
See? See? You are the entrepreneur personality type! Always thinking. Me? I’m the type that says “Cool! I’d buy that shirt from you!” Cuz I wouldn’t think of it myself first. Cuz I loved school and taking tests and doing assignments. But I must say, I learned more about what I needed to know in life from the entrepreneurs I’ve hung around with than in all my four years of college.
I love Cindy’s quote! I’ll have to tell that one to my students. Really, saying “I can’t” is really just saying “I won’t.”
To Marc: Yes! The green guy! It’s one of my favorite quotes. When I ask one of my students to do something and they answer, “I’ll try,” the rest of the class responds “There is no try!” I didn’t teach it to them either. It’s just such a classic.
“That’s so cool I might have a t-shirt printed.”
See? See? You are the entrepreneur personality type! Always thinking. Me? I’m the type that says “Cool! I’d buy that shirt from you!” Cuz I wouldn’t think of it myself first. Cuz I loved school and taking tests and doing assignments. But I must say, I learned more about what I needed to know in life from the entrepreneurs I’ve hung around with than in all my four years of college.
I love Cindy’s quote! I’ll have to tell that one to my students. Really, saying “I can’t” is really just saying “I won’t.”
To Marc: Yes! The green guy! It’s one of my favorite quotes. When I ask one of my students to do something and they answer, “I’ll try,” the rest of the class responds “There is no try!” I didn’t teach it to them either. It’s just such a classic.
Marc: No doubt. I’ll have to put it up on Friday, unless something better comes along, though I imagine we’re more likely to have another moon landing in between now and then.
Bamboo: Well said. We can never make more time. The only thing college guarantees is the loss of a substantial percentage.
Randi: Ha. There’s no doubt. I’ve been looking for the best angle from my early breath. I’ll find it soon enough. Then I’ll sand it down to an even finish.
Marc: No doubt. I’ll have to put it up on Friday, unless something better comes along, though I imagine we’re more likely to have another moon landing in between now and then.
Bamboo: Well said. We can never make more time. The only thing college guarantees is the loss of a substantial percentage.
Randi: Ha. There’s no doubt. I’ve been looking for the best angle from my early breath. I’ll find it soon enough. Then I’ll sand it down to an even finish.
@Randi Had a similar experience when I taught Aikido to the children at my local class. It was quite funny seeing some of them literally impersonating Yoda!
@Sean Still waiting for the first one ;)
@Randi Had a similar experience when I taught Aikido to the children at my local class. It was quite funny seeing some of them literally impersonating Yoda!
@Sean Still waiting for the first one ;)
“…the loud mouth fastened to my face…” and “…an armchair saturated by the sweat of an endless procession of adolescents…” Just a few of the words you smith that so enhance my reading experience, plus the auditory esperience – YAY! The analogy of playing ball and walking off the field – brilliant. I believe everyone comes into our lives for a reason… Miss (lack of) Guidance, surely guided you right out the door.
“…the loud mouth fastened to my face…” and “…an armchair saturated by the sweat of an endless procession of adolescents…” Just a few of the words you smith that so enhance my reading experience, plus the auditory esperience – YAY! The analogy of playing ball and walking off the field – brilliant. I believe everyone comes into our lives for a reason… Miss (lack of) Guidance, surely guided you right out the door.
To Marc: My son takes Kyukido. It’s a combo of Hapkido, Tae Kwondo and Judo. Is Aikido similar?
To Marc: My son takes Kyukido. It’s a combo of Hapkido, Tae Kwondo and Judo. Is Aikido similar?
You may be able to find similarities between the joint locks of Aikido and those of Judo but that’s where the similarity ends.
Aikido is much more an inner Martial Art similar in philosophy to Tai Chi. The core belief is to maintain balance in your life so that no matter who or even what attacks you, you can avoid injury to yourself and prevent injury to your “attacker”. There literally is no lesson in Aikido on how to punch or kick.
It is in many respects its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
You may be able to find similarities between the joint locks of Aikido and those of Judo but that’s where the similarity ends.
Aikido is much more an inner Martial Art similar in philosophy to Tai Chi. The core belief is to maintain balance in your life so that no matter who or even what attacks you, you can avoid injury to yourself and prevent injury to your “attacker”. There literally is no lesson in Aikido on how to punch or kick.
It is in many respects its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
Hey, who’s the cute Valley Girl in the pic?
LOL!
I only laugh because my hair was even longer.
Man, where is Fowler when you lay out a photo like that?!
GREAT post! Though the ending would have been nicer if perhaps you were working at said bank and she came in for a loan which you had to approve.
Hey, who’s the cute Valley Girl in the pic?
LOL!
I only laugh because my hair was even longer.
Man, where is Fowler when you lay out a photo like that?!
GREAT post! Though the ending would have been nicer if perhaps you were working at said bank and she came in for a loan which you had to approve.
Sean, this is great storytelling, as always. I love the image of your guidance counselor “raining spittle” and “twirling a monocle.” So perfect.
A few random thoughts I had while reading:
- My father-in-law dropped out of one of the best public high schools in the country, just a couple months shy of graduation. The Kent State shootings had just happened, and he saw the whole world, and what really mattered, in a completely new light. I feel like he knew himself and knew what he needed to do in that moment, just like you, and he doesn’t look back with regret. I love that.
- Aspects of who you were as a teen remind me a lot of myself, and make me smile. I was so shocked last year, at a high school reunion, to have several people tell me stories that involved me challenging and arguing with my teachers! It was a bit embarrassing, and I worried my husband would think “Ah, this explains everything,” but my classmates told me they were always astounded and impressed. I think sticking up for yourself, especially in the face of authority, is an amazing trait—it’s one I hope my girls will embrace (even though it will probably come back to bite me in some way).
- Finally, I’m starting to realize why I like your stories so much. It’s not just that they’re well-written (which they are). You have that “halfway to normal” quality about yourself, and are willing to embrace it and stand behind it, no matter what the world is telling you “normal” should look like.
Sean, this is great storytelling, as always. I love the image of your guidance counselor “raining spittle” and “twirling a monocle.” So perfect.
A few random thoughts I had while reading:
- My father-in-law dropped out of one of the best public high schools in the country, just a couple months shy of graduation. The Kent State shootings had just happened, and he saw the whole world, and what really mattered, in a completely new light. I feel like he knew himself and knew what he needed to do in that moment, just like you, and he doesn’t look back with regret. I love that.
- Aspects of who you were as a teen remind me a lot of myself, and make me smile. I was so shocked last year, at a high school reunion, to have several people tell me stories that involved me challenging and arguing with my teachers! It was a bit embarrassing, and I worried my husband would think “Ah, this explains everything,” but my classmates told me they were always astounded and impressed. I think sticking up for yourself, especially in the face of authority, is an amazing trait—it’s one I hope my girls will embrace (even though it will probably come back to bite me in some way).
- Finally, I’m starting to realize why I like your stories so much. It’s not just that they’re well-written (which they are). You have that “halfway to normal” quality about yourself, and are willing to embrace it and stand behind it, no matter what the world is telling you “normal” should look like.
It’s just terrible that there are teachers and counselors out there that spread negativity like that. I had an English teacher when I was in 10th grade tell me I wasn’t a good enough student for AP English. I was shy and compromising at the time so I didn’t try to go for AP English, just advanced, although the teacher tried to talk me out of that one, too. My 11th grade English teacher was fantastic and saw what I could do and encouraged me to take AP English (she couldn’t believe that I wasn’t in it for 11th grade). I did my senior year and did well in the class.
Good for you for having the wherewithal to take yourself out of that losing battle and carving the life you wanted and knew you could have.
It’s just terrible that there are teachers and counselors out there that spread negativity like that. I had an English teacher when I was in 10th grade tell me I wasn’t a good enough student for AP English. I was shy and compromising at the time so I didn’t try to go for AP English, just advanced, although the teacher tried to talk me out of that one, too. My 11th grade English teacher was fantastic and saw what I could do and encouraged me to take AP English (she couldn’t believe that I wasn’t in it for 11th grade). I did my senior year and did well in the class.
Good for you for having the wherewithal to take yourself out of that losing battle and carving the life you wanted and knew you could have.
Trina: Did you really listen to the audio? That’s awesome, Trina! Other than Cindy, you might have been the only one. : > )
Dave: The original had more endings than Return of the King, but I figured for brevity I would stick with just the one. The gauntlet’s been thrown my man, let’s see you bust out with your 16 year old self.
Kristin T: I liked all 3 of your thoughts, Kristin. Thanks. It feels very Life 2.0 that I am answering your comment while discussing the exact same thing with you on Twitter right now. I think that’s a blog post waiting to be written.
Kool Aid: Your 10th grade teacher was a suck monster slain by your 11th grade teacher. I’m glad you had one that was worthy. The one exceptional English teacher I had did make an impact on me and I feel fortunate that I had her for the brief time I did.
Trina: Did you really listen to the audio? That’s awesome, Trina! Other than Cindy, you might have been the only one. : > )
Dave: The original had more endings than Return of the King, but I figured for brevity I would stick with just the one. The gauntlet’s been thrown my man, let’s see you bust out with your 16 year old self.
Kristin T: I liked all 3 of your thoughts, Kristin. Thanks. It feels very Life 2.0 that I am answering your comment while discussing the exact same thing with you on Twitter right now. I think that’s a blog post waiting to be written.
Kool Aid: Your 10th grade teacher was a suck monster slain by your 11th grade teacher. I’m glad you had one that was worthy. The one exceptional English teacher I had did make an impact on me and I feel fortunate that I had her for the brief time I did.
Sean, you have me in fits of laughter here! “Your 1oth grade teacher was a suck monster”! Now that’s t-shirt slogan material :D
Sean, you have me in fits of laughter here! “Your 1oth grade teacher was a suck monster”! Now that’s t-shirt slogan material :D
I’m laughing my guts out too! Suck monster? Slain by your 11th grade teacher? But what a great way to describe people who just suck the living joy out of everything. Suck monster. I have a new favorite phrase. I can sleep happily tonight. Suck monster slayers of the world unite!
I’m laughing my guts out too! Suck monster? Slain by your 11th grade teacher? But what a great way to describe people who just suck the living joy out of everything. Suck monster. I have a new favorite phrase. I can sleep happily tonight. Suck monster slayers of the world unite!
You’re a gifted writer. I found this via your link on Twitter & am so glad I took time to follow it.
Funny how unimportant high school feels years later. Teen angst is a heavy weight. Glad you made the decision that was right for you, and gladder still that you had supportive parents.
Now, I’m waiting for the lederhosen story!
You’re a gifted writer. I found this via your link on Twitter & am so glad I took time to follow it.
Funny how unimportant high school feels years later. Teen angst is a heavy weight. Glad you made the decision that was right for you, and gladder still that you had supportive parents.
Now, I’m waiting for the lederhosen story!
Maybe we should all go together and write a story about how we were treated shamefully in school? and turned out to be a success – self? Good story telling.
I have spent hours working today on the new rules for being a counselor…I think I will have to go back to school…and follow more rules and I will not be grand mothered in after 28 years of service and great counseling ability – and never any malpractice insurance offered that I could afford….and now dozens of folks are being ordained as ministers without the horrendous 5 years of grad school and sexual harassment of being a woman ( actually about 65% of seminary students are women now). If I dwell on it I get angry – no jobs, no pay, no respect, and now more rules that don’t acknowledge my talent or skills….Last night I was thinking about going back to stocking grocery store shelves or cleaning houses….
I have gone through enough hoops….and we are now adding ageism….
I am one awesome woman…watch out…I am hitting my own stride…
On another note….I see one of my kiddos made a comment on your education post….one awesome mom reared some very awesome kids….:)
Maybe we should all go together and write a story about how we were treated shamefully in school? and turned out to be a success – self? Good story telling.
I have spent hours working today on the new rules for being a counselor…I think I will have to go back to school…and follow more rules and I will not be grand mothered in after 28 years of service and great counseling ability – and never any malpractice insurance offered that I could afford….and now dozens of folks are being ordained as ministers without the horrendous 5 years of grad school and sexual harassment of being a woman ( actually about 65% of seminary students are women now). If I dwell on it I get angry – no jobs, no pay, no respect, and now more rules that don’t acknowledge my talent or skills….Last night I was thinking about going back to stocking grocery store shelves or cleaning houses….
I have gone through enough hoops….and we are now adding ageism….
I am one awesome woman…watch out…I am hitting my own stride…
On another note….I see one of my kiddos made a comment on your education post….one awesome mom reared some very awesome kids….:)