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I’ve probably had more trouble with this prompt than any of the others. I’m wondering if that’s because I tend to be the kind of person that CAN’T let things go and drags their baggage around with them wherever they roam. And my luggage set is old! It doesn’t have any wheels! But seriously, that does seem to be my MO.

What part of YOU is locked inside this house?

The ONLY thing I can think of that’s even REMOTELY reminiscent of this is what I wanted to do when I went to college. That would actually make my “house” a “high school.”

cropped-poetryI fell in love with English, literature, and words in general in my 9th grade English class. Miss Gourley made a huge impact on my mind and heart that year. And I determined I was destined to be a high school English teacher. Unfortunately I had NO idea how I was going to get there. In those days (yes, I am old enough to say back in “those days”) schools had not yet perfected the fine art of occupational counselors telling you what you wanted to be when you grow up and what kind of aid was out there to help you morph into said profession. So I was totally unaware of programs that could have helped me.

At home I hit a snag. My parents were not able to put any money toward my schooling, and in the meantime I’d received a full scholarship to a business college. The only thing I learned there that I didn’t already know was how to find a hubby! I had a very comprehensive two-hour secretarial course my senior year. Took shorthand at 140 wpm — though I couldn’t type worth a hoot! Still, it was enough to get me that scholarship.

And my parents were all for it. I still remember my dad saying, “If you can take shorthand, you’ll ALWAYS be able to find a job!” (In a couple years shorthand was a thing of the past.) But it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to teach, to impart to young minds the same love I had of literature and the English language. But like the dutiful and naive daughter I was, I put my nose to the grindstone and slinked off to business school. Being an English Lit teacher was lost to me forever.

What can you do to free that part of yourself?

As to what can I do to free that part of myself that got left behind, I think I already did to a certain extent. I was sought out to teach kindergarten in a parochial school which I could do because I had a degree in “something.” Didn’t need to be teaching. And I realized pretty quickly just having a teaching certificate does NOT a teacher make. I accepted the job offer, taught for five years, was nominated for the local newspaper’s Teacher of the Year program. Kind of unheard of for someone with no teaching degree, which tickled me pink.

teacher-apple-clipart-teacher-apple-border-clipartteacher-apple-clipart-free-clip-art-clip-art-free-clip-art-sosuptbsI found out I would have made a great teacher. And eventually I went on to tutor in the public school system here. I enjoyed the younger kids more than I ever imagined I would. But I still have some regrets over not pursuing teaching English. Drollery and I got married right after we graduated, and it never occurred to me I could have gone to Weber and gotten a degree if I wanted to. We didn’t have a family for six years. The timing would have been perfect. But Lord knows I SO struggle from tunnel vision.

So there you have it. Nothing spectacular. No huge regrets. Now if I could just figure out how to divest myself of all this unnecessary baggage I’m carting around with me!

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The Sandbox Writing Challenge 22 — Setting free the captive parts…


Picture Credits:
Words — d–h.info
Apple — www.clipartpanda.com