Lost Notes

Usually on my way to work, I dictate notes to myself and this morning was no different. The reason I dictate is that commuting is just a waste of time.  I try my best to remain productive during that time in the car. Unfortunately, this morning, my dictated notes were lost in cyberworld.  When I arrived at the office, the file was sent but never received in my email. I’m sure all of us have had a similar situation and I’m certain I will find a way to recover the information sometime in the future when I no longer need it.  The reason I bring it up is because this morning I had a few good notes that I wanted to draw upon to write this opening. You see, my mornings begin at 4:30am when I give thanks that I have been granted another day to get it right. I stumble to grab a cup of coffee then sit in a quiet room to reflect and be mindful of my day, my obligations, and my life. This morning, I reflected on my writing and how much I enjoy the practice.  I find it cathartic to write from the heart.  It is no secret that I have done a bit of writing, but that has not always been the case.  I was not the best student in my high school years and I have written about my Senior English teacher Mr. Rose. I am certain that Mr. Rose hated my arrival to his class just as much as I hate going, yet I can recall quite a bit. The class was British Literature and I would almost get hives walking into the building. I did everything but the work, and Mr. Rose knew it. He rode me everyday and grinded my gears about every little thing that I did in that class. Back then, I had a strong dislike for the man. Now, as you may know, I have a tribute to him in my office in the form of a statue of Sisyphus getting help. I think about Mr. Rose everytime I look at that sculpture and I know, he is upstairs wagging his finger at me saying, “I told you so”. He used to drive me crazy with that! I can still picture him in front of the class reading a passage from some book then closing his eyes to let the literature wash over him. In my immaturity, I could never figure it out. Now I get it.  Today, I have a love of reading and writing. I enjoy the art of words and the specific use of aphorisms and euphemism to flavor the work. Mr. Rose is getting the last laugh, and I can hear it. The very long point I am trying to make is that there are students in your classes that you are impacting. You may never know, just as Mr. Rose impacted me, but your impact is registering. Mr. Rose never gave up on me, even though I sometimes gave up on my own abilities. In spite of my horrible petulant classroom behavior, Mr. Rose persevered. As an author, I may own the title of best seller, but Mr. Rose should get the credit. All I can do is look up and apologize for my young self with a thank you in my heart. Every student should be lucky enough to have a Mr. Rose. Have a wonderful weekend. Go BEARS!…RiseUP! (cue "In My Dreams” — REO Speedwagon). 

Until next time...