something your not good at

The assignment:
Write about the first time you realized you were bad at something.  (For example, the exact moment you hit the wrong note in the piano recital in the school auditorium in front of everybody else's parents.)  

I’m a poor decision maker. I DIDN’T go into acting. Why? Because I thought it was a career for other people.  What stupid thinking on my part! What had I done my whole high school career? I had acted in the school plays—I had the lead roles and I have loved it!  I had been in speech contests: as a freshman, I earned two I ratings—the highest ranking available. Did I enter any other speech contests?

No. Why? Who knows?!?  Not only high school, either!! After all, I was the top Indian in third grade!  In 5^th grade, I was Professor Hargreaves in the Case of the Missing Parts of Speech!

            I brought a hand grenade (as a present for my sons) into a Moscow airport. Sure it was from WWII, and it was hollow, but they still didn’t let me get on the plane.

            This fall, I thought that I was ready to get back into classroom teaching after a four year absence. From the first day, I was stressed, I was worried, I was unhappy.  This wasn’t the customary unhappiness—it was so bad that I bailed out.  That’s right, I quit.

My problem now is convincing myself to stop thinking about these unwise decisions. For instance, why am I writing about it right now? This course is called memoir.  The teacher has already written to us that memoirs should NOT be a pity party or blah, blah, blah about my personal problems.  That kind of writing belongs in a journal or diary.  People don’t want to read about my problems.

            But I write this stuff quickly and easily. My fingers can hardly move fast enough to put the words on the paper—or the screen, or whatever. 

            When have I realized I’m not good at something? Never. I’m not good at everything, but I am good at everything that I have tried.  I stay away from things that I am NOT good at.  It’s a self-preservation strategy.  Or maybe it simply shows fear and spinelessness. 

           

            I could never run fast.  My first teaching job was at a school in Baltimore County.  I visited track practice one day and one of my students was there.  He was a 17-year-old African-American, and in great shape.  He challenged me to a race.  I knew I wouldn’t win, but I didn’t want to show a reluctance to be embarrassed.  There are several emotions that I could have avoided.  I didn’t choose not to be embarrassed—I chose not to be accused of not wanting to be embarrassed. Teachers are supposed to be better at everything than their students.  I didn’t care if I lost.  I cared more about giving the impression that cared if I lost.  I wanted to show everyone that I had enough self-confidence to withstand being beaten by one of my students in a running race.  And my goodness, it was as if I hadn’t even had my shoes tied by the time the race began.