When I was young

When I was young
My handwriting was very messy; entirely illegible.
My letters were written in all kinds of obscure shapes; still are.
I was never allowed to write for group notes because everyone would become too frustrated from reading my horrific handwriting.
It took me longer to learn; still does.
I was disorganized; although I’ve come a long way, I still am.
I’d get frustrated; still do.
The only difference is I used to plug and chug and get nothing out of it.
I never understood any formula.
I never remembered it either.
I made excuses, so to speak.
My life was one big excuse, written in one legal document that some teachers were so reluctant to follow.
I deserved the bad grades.
There was no hope.
Especially in the eyes of most of my math teachers.
Go to community college, you won’t be wasting anyone’s money and there’s no rejection policy.
You write like a kindergartner!
You’re too scatterbrained!
Just let me do it!
How the hell are you going to be a teacher?
These scores are going to hold you back.
You think colleges want some idiot who can’t even get an average score in what most people consider elementary math?!
You’ve been spoon-fed everything!
God, just shut up!
Retard!
Yeah, free ride for an idiot.
Straighten your hair.
Fat ass.
Weirdo.
Pluck your eyebrows.
Hairy, ugly bitch.
Wash your face!
You’re an idiot.
And of course, the snickers in the background from my adolescent audience as I entered the classroom.
Now at 22, I’ve heard
You’re so smart.
You’re one of the most level headed, sane people I have ever met.
Your handwriting is a bit difficult to read but the words you write are so inspirational.
SAT’s mean nothing.
You earned your place here.
You have a great figure.
I love your hair!
You’ve got a good heart.
You’re going to inspire so many children.
Friends like you don’t come by every day.
The best part about all of it is that I’m able to look in the mirror and see if for myself.
This isn’t to say everyday is peachy.
I can still acknowledge the fact that I have flaws and I would never deny them.
There are days where I feel down, even alone.
I still do and say stupid things.
I still wear my heart on my sleeve more than I should.
There are still people I rub the wrong way who pull away.
The difference is that I get back on my feet quicker and stand stronger.
Because I know myself better.
I no longer feel the need to pretend to be someone else.
Or imagine that I have a different name.
Or wish that I was skinner and more conventional looking.
My self image gives tough love and advice.
It no longer sides with the crowd.
I can see through people’s motives a lot clearer.
My life may not be perfect but these last 4 years have been a rewarding journey resulting in tremendous growth.
I have never felt more blessed to breathe, speak, smile, feel and most importantly, be who I am.