Teachers

I spent some time with my teenage granddaughters this weekend.  Both of them have distinct styles and ways of being that I find very attractive.  The older one seems wise beyond her years to me.

She struggles with the same shyness I always have, but she deals with it so openly and intelligently.  Whereas I muddled through my college years she has actively chosen to take one online class because she feels she will be less afraid to share her real point of view if she can write it instead of having to voice it in class.  I find that incredibly brilliant!  As a writer I am much better at expressing myself this way than out loud.

Of course I did have to learn to do the other, but it has always been difficult.  I don’t like confrontations or discord or raising a ruckus of any kind.  Just expressing my opinion can be a trial.  I can do it, but it is an agony for me and one I will live and relive many times after it is over, playing back what happened and what could have happened again and again.

My granddaughter has thought about this too.  She says, “If I don’t express my own thoughts what is the point of being me?” 

She is a baby by my standards, but what a baby!  I’m not sure where this beautiful young woman came from, but she is certainly one of my teachers.