Letting Go

I love the fact that I'm not even a year out of high school and I have to think fairly hard to remember the names of all but one of my LHS teachers. Why is this good? Because it means I've let go of those times, I've let go of such teenage frustrations. You see, back in high school, many percieved me as some kind of threat, as a slacker, or a quiet and disturbed teen. Mostly female teachers assumed automatically that I would not be a good student and I believe they also thought I was a stoner, even though I recieved A and B grades and I never got in trouble in or out of school. As a matter of fact, as far as my behavior went, I was and am a goody two-shoes and really, a Mommy and Daddy's girl.

I don't even know where such assumptions came from. Was it my black eyeliner? The dark-colored clothes? The fact that I have never been a suck-up and have never made unfounded excuses for occasionally not having my homework? Maybe it's because I have never conformed for the sake of conforming (not to say I'm a non-conformist, because there's no such thing), never been afraid to show my faith, never given in when I thought a different way. Just maybe.

Anyway.

Such teachers would tell me that, if I actually tried, I could be a good student, or would give me a lower grade on a project and reprimand me because I was absent and when my father brought the project in to school for me, it was after the class period I would have been in. I have even been told not to take certain classes because I probably wouldn't do well. At the time, of course, these things were very maddening and very frustrating. In fact, if it hadn't been for that one teacher whose name I easily remember, I would have lost all hope in the belief that there actually are gifted and compassionate teachers and would have hated my last year of school altogether. But I've managed to move away from those petty belittlements and double standards. They no longer bother me. I know now they helped to shape me into who I am today, and who I hope to become in the future.

I would love nothing more than to become an acclaimed writer and have my books required reading in my twelfth grade English teacher's class. I would love to be invited back to school as a guest speaker and tell those kids that high school drama doesn't matter, because all that matters is faith and a strong belief in oneself. I want to prove everyone that thought I was hopeless wrong. I would love to do these things, but fortunately, it's not what drives me. Glorifying God and being true to myself is what drives me, and if all of the above comes with it, then awesome.

Like I said, today I have to think fairly hard to remember the names of the people that tried to bring me down in school. I won't forget the experiences, of course, but the feelings of frustration for the people that brought them on are just no longer worth my energy, and knowing that feels great.