Beyond The Book’s Cover

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This is something I found as I go through my old Mac files converting them over to the PC for posterity. This is something I wrote my Sr. year in high school:

Slam! I check my car door, yep it’s locked. As I start towards my class I look over my shoulder to check my lights — off. Now I could focus on the business at hand: getting to class on time. I steady my bag with one hand and break into a stride. All those cross country practices were about to pay off. Up past “B” gym and down along the soccer field I run, as I do I pass others running to their classes. I dodge people as I enter the building and head down toward the World History room. I check my watch: twenty seconds. I slow down and walk casually in the room. The teacher looks up from the chalkboard and nods his hello as I make my way over to my seat. Mr. Reddick comes over and shows me some papers he wants me to staple then turns back to the class.

“Aaah!” I think to myself as I start hammering out World History packets, “being an aid sure beats having another class.” In a few minutes I’m done. I then swing around so that I’m seated on the table with my feet in the chair I had been sitting in. So seated I passively watch the class while reading the paper.

“Hmm…..More troops sent to Somalia….” I read as my mind and ears begin to wander.

“…..The Tigris and Euphrates…” Ah yes! Mesopotamia, I remember learning this last year. Mr. Reddick asks a question. A simple one really and quickly gets a response. Another, this one rather thought provoking; I even pause to contemplate it. Then I hear someone starting to answer. I don’t even have to look up from my paper to know the speaker. The slow, slurred drawl is unmistakable. Slightly amused, I listen intrigued at what she would say. A look of shock, surprise and even some awe crosses my face; a look I quickly conceal behind my paper. I sort of chuckle to myself, not out of fun but out of disbelief. Amazing. Her comment held more insight than any I had heard thus far all year…..

I learn something every day. Perhaps I’m curious, or just lucky; I think it’s both. Something long preconceived in my mind got shattered that day, something I hadn’t really even known was there. All of this though comes back to one question: Who is more handicapped — someone who uses his small gifts, or those who squander their large ones?