06.13.2003 - 12:53 p.m.

My English teacher in eleventh grade hated children. He liked to ask vague questions so that whatever you answered was wrong. He liked to tell us that the class was "11 G/T", not "11 Peon" and that we needed to measure up. I hated. every. moment. of that class.

But most of what I know about applied critical thought, I learned while trying to spite him.

My choir teacher was the kind who kept student pets, and though I had a good voice, a good ear, and sang and sang my heart out for her, I wasn't one of them, not ever. I was not political enough to ever even be in the running.

But if I had not spent three years leading the alto section from the back row, I would still think recognition always stemmed solely from talent.

From a pissy employer I learned to laugh it off, from an angry friend I learned backbone, from a controlling boy I learned sweet independence.

It's more than "that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger." More important than strength, I think, is knowing how to adjust yourself so that whatever there is, however small a scrap you've been left, you can take that thing and build it into something you've learned and won't be caught missing next time, something better than what�s been taken away. Maybe that's all strength is, when you get down to it: Efficient use of resources.

All I know is that it�s always been my worst teachers who taught me the most.

-stonebridge

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