A Thoughtful Memoir

    I looked down at the nubby, rounded, yellow pencil in my right hand and then at the bright pink pencil sharpener in my left. Seemingly, the task before me was a simple one. Insert pencil into sharpener and turn. Still, I hesitated. The hesitation stemming from the fact that I knew this simple task was just a prelude to a much larger one. I could feel the on going dance of procrastination begin as my mind started to wander. If only I could find that bit of motivation, that fleeting inspiration. I’ve been in this place before. Right on the edge of being focused and having purpose and delving so far into my own mind who knows how long it will be before I emerge. I know full well if I stay too long it’s inevitable, but I linger anyway.

    I look down again, the pencil is the same, but the hand is much smaller. The sharpener is mounted on the wall with its tiny little crank. This time I do insert the pencil. The smell of the shavings hit my nose just before the dust begins to tickle it. Other familiar smells come to me chalk, text books, even the heat that emanated from the old steam radiators had its own scent. Old sounds hit my ears, feet shuffling just outside the door increasing in speed as the school bell rang, twenty 7 year olds clamoring to their desks as the teacher gives instructions. Back then, I had about 8 professions chosen for myself and oh how I was going to master them all. Those were the years that ideas never escaped me. Infact, I was bursting with them. But, if the nurturing for a child isn’t consistent which, was the case with me, those ideas can fade and drift. There were times though, like the year I’m visiting now where an adult took the time to draw out of me all the best I had to offer.

    My second grade teacher had a warm sweet face that she didn’t bother to paint up like some of the other teachers. At the time it didn’t seem so because of my own youth, but she was young. The white band framing her face stood out in great contrast against the black of the veil that draped down to her shoulders. I think her hair was brown although I can’t say for sure. Her dress was simple and black. She breathed consistency, kindness, encouragement, and I couldn’t get enough! She was the first to really inspire me, motivate me, and narrow my focus. Not by doing anything too extraordinary. Not by saying one timelessly profound thing. Just by being there, nudging me along, and taking a real interest in what I wanted to do. That year, because of her guidance, I must have gotten my professions list down to at least four.