HOW TO ‘GROW UP AND GET OVER IT’

There are people and places that will hurt your feelings. Since my feelings have been hurt and I learned to grow up and get over it, I will share how that works.

Learning to grow up isn’t something that comes and goes, not when new challenges require new ways to grow.

I thought people a certain age would be happy with their progress and ride it out with what they’ve got, but too often I’ve been proven wrong.

For example:

The doctors in the Army hospital where I was born guaranteed my parents a girl.

Their disappointment started early.

A few years later something looked wrong and my parents took me in again. The doctor said I had signs of dwarfism.

I grew to a disappointing six foot three.

Grow up in grade school

In first grade I learned to spell and write. I learned to grow up and get ready for second grade after peaking with Mrs. Baker.

By second grade I was a has-been, but still found a way to contribute. I tutored other students since Mrs. Romani liked to bring kids to the front of the class and spank them for missing homework assignments.

Helping others made feel like a grown up. I have facebook friends who owe their academic success to this little grown up.

By third grade real life showed up. A new kid came to Mrs. Kraus’s class with a switch blade he showed me. She saw it and held until the end of the year.

Third grade was when I learned how kids grew up wrong. I walked to a friend’s house for the afternoon. Before I left he’d hung his dog over a clothesline until it slipped out of its collar and nailed frogs to a tree in his side yard.

Right along this time I figured who would and wouldn’t be a friend. Dog hanging frog nailers belonged to the latter.

In high school I earned a sports accomplishment that got the headline, but not the picture. Instead of me smiling, they showed two tough guys with shiners.

Grow up sooner than later

In college I learned I could coast along and pretend to do the work, then become a teacher and coast along. It took me a year to figure the error of my thinking and join the Army for a tour.

After I tied up loose college strings and graduated, I was disappointed to learn how hard it was to get into masters of education program. Teaching was real work and real time. Who knew?

Getting married, having kids, working a career job to the end of the line, and embracing the role of househusband gave plenty of chances to grow up and get over it. I like to think I’m still a work in progress.

Then a huge challenge appeared: Could I sustain my grown up composure over a formally paced evening of delicious cooking, excellent wine, and wonderful company?

To be continued . . .