Wednesday, April 10, 2013

What a Gold Star can't Teach You

     In second grade, my wonderful teacher, Mrs. Tracy, read the story I wrote about a brontosaurus and taught me that I couldn't start every sentence with the word 'AND'. It was a pivotal moment in my writing career. Of course, it took me decades to realize that I could start a sentence with the word 'AND' on occasion. Sparingly. As a tool in story telling.
     And that was the beginning. :-)

     The story wasn't "perfect". It was about a dinosaur who was green and did a lot of boring, routine sort of stuff. My grade in my reading and writing class was a solid B.
    That moment, when she sat down next to me, in the tiny chair the 2nd grade classes had, her knees folded uncomfortably, is burned into my mind. I felt so crushed at first. It wasn't perfect. It didn't get a gold star.
     It wasn't as good as my neighbor's, some girl with long blond hair, perfect teeth and stylish clothes. The complete opposite of me, with my buck teeth and thick brown hair and thrift store clothes. 
     I felt insecure, lacking and if it wasn't for the gentle tones of Mrs. Tracy and her reassuring smile, I probably would have never wrote again.
     In my entire life.
   
     A few days of mulling over what I thought was an epic failure, I realized something important. A gold star doesn't force you to get better. They're nice and all and sometimes you have to award them. But when there is something to learn, we need to listen to the lesson. It's not a failure to learn how to get better.
    It's a failure to think we have nothing to learn.

    Fast forward to college and my easy sailing through classes and assignments came to an abrupt halt as my piano/choral teacher, Mrs. Reed, told me in her blunt and no nonsense tones, "You're getting a B in my class because you think everything should be easy and you shouldn't have to work too hard to obtain it. I know what type of student you are. School is easy for you so you haven't learned how to push herself for something you want. It's sad."
    Ouch. Still not totally my fault though. After 2nd grade, no teacher wanted to push me. I was getting A's easily, so they didn't have to spend time with me. They could focus on other students. I understand. It's difficult to give each student what they need. Obviously, you're going to spend time with the students having trouble. Not with the students who don't.

    But it was still a statement I had to let sink in. I couldn't toss it out and pretend I didn't have any responsibility in the matter.
 You can still be a slacker, even with straight A's.

   Hero Hottie challenges me. He invites me to listen and understand the lyrics to songs. His humor keeps me on my toes.
   Today, my editor, who I adore by the way, sent me a long list of things I needed to correct in my story before I should publish it. That crushing sensation of failure was pressing against my lungs. All the little self doubts came rushing into my head, trying to suffocate me.
 
   Hero Hottie came to the rescue. He read what she wrote, pointed out all the good things she had to say and asked about the points of corrections she was recommending and prevented me from seeing it as a failure.
   
    And instead he reminded me to embrace it as a chance to grow and to learn and to push myself to achieve success. To become the writer I know I can be.
   
    Because the path to success and growth isn't littered with gold stars, it's full of falling down and stumbling and scraping your knee.
    And not using the word 'AND' at the beginning of each sentence.
  
   

    

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