Head of the Class

When I was in 11th grade, I was the top of the class, the star pupil, the best. People were like, “man, you are good.” And I believed them.

It WAS just art class. AND all of the other students were there because they had to take an elective; it was either art or band. Most of them were druggies, so art was a little more up their alley. It was fun hanging out, discussing if patchouli or bergamot oil smelled better, listening to them talking about hidden tracks in Grateful Dead music, and painting. I’d finish something, and they’d all be like “that looks just like the photo, or whatever“.

Otherwise, throughout school and my learning career, I’ve been middlin’ to good. I REALLY don’t like being last, or worst, or on the bottom of the scale. When we learned the national language, I did pretty good, and was near the top of my group in terms of fluency. Yes that means that I, as an adult woman, must have been comparing myself. And also rating myself. I’m embarrassed.

Well not anymore…even though we “passed” our last language evaluation, Michael and I were on the bottom of the heap in terms of our fluency. Our team members all whooped us. I immediately started thinking up excuses…I could start telling them to you now. But, really, what does it matter?

I so need a good, big dose of humility. It’s so easy to only hear my voice telling myself, “man you are good. If we were doing drawing, YOURS would be the best. You rock Amy!” It’s so easy to continually try to show everyone how great Amy is…and try to get the best for myself.

Amy being the best language learner (or anything) doesn’t matter. It just matters that eventually I will be able to communicate, AND that I’m actually working hard. Not just slacking off.