rummaging through a large box of childhood mementos my mother recently mailed to me i came across multiple graded papers from my school years. most of them deserved the grade or comment they received, but some of them, well, it’s no surprise i’m refusing to send my own child to an “one size fits all” sort of school.
in 1988 i was nine years old. i was too young to be pretentious and too old to care whether or not i was perceived as “cute” anymore. i was sincerely me. i’m thankful i had a few good teachers in the swell of awful ones, and i’m more thankful my parents did what few others did for me as a child: encouraged my individuality and celebrated my uniqueness. next to this elementary poem my sweet mother added a few more comments on a small post-it,
“Your teacher meant to say,
‘Original and Creative!’
(my favorite) ‘Future Author"
may our words be life, a slice of light! thanks mom.