What am I good At?

That phrase has been reverberating in my head, but everytime I "say" it to myself, Miss Markham comes to mind and looks at me as only Miss Markham could. "At?" I say to myself . . . "What are you good AT?" I can't believe that came out of your mouth/thoughts! Then I try to say it correctly and it sounds even more ridiculous: "What are you good at doing?" Okay, Miss English teacher . . . and then I go back to the original question. WHAT AM I really good at (doing)? My original degree was in English. I love to write, would love to write a book, but don't know what I would write about. I once used to journal - in college, before kids. I try to journal now, but can never find the book I last wrote in or a pen or the time, etc.

Maybe I will get back to the original topic later this week, but there are a few things I'd like to say about grammar. First, I went to a rigorous high school. Senior English/Grammar was notorious, dreaded, feared for four years. And it lived up to its reputation. My senior year of high school, I recall us diagraming each others sentences as we talked in conversations so we wouldn't flunk out of Senior Grammar. Little did I know that that was the last time I would be taught grammar - even as an English major.

Here is an example of how Senior Grammar creeps up in my every-day life:

"Drive Safe" I'm sure you've heard it a million times, but just curious, how many of you have a Miss Markham or a mom or yourself that corrects that phrase in your head every time you hear it? "Drive SafeLY" It's an adverb, people. It describes How to drive; adverbs have an -LY. Oh, well. You can have a safe trip. You can even have a safe drive, but when you drive, drive safeLY. Ah, Somethings are not worth the effort, but for now, I have said it.

Miss Markham, what a sweet dear lady. Funny story. It was a cold day. (I know that because I was wearing a turtleneck.) We were taking a test. A hard one; one I was very nervous about taking. Miss Markham always made me a little nervous because she was very wise, and I wasn't always sure I had the right answer. If you didn't have the right answer, she could quickly make you feel very stupid with her chuckle and a comment about obviously not having done the assignment or something.

Well, this day, I was intensely working on my test, thinking hard when she came up and stood next to my desk. It made me very nervous, and finally, I looked up. She was very tall. In a loud whisper - she wasn't a very quiet person - she asked, "I have always wondered, how do you get into those things?" I had no idea what she was talking about. Surely she wasn't asking how I got into my desk, but that did cross my mind. I looked at my test, and her question didn't seem to have anything to do with my test, so I looked at her again - clueless - like a deer in the headlights. Here I was again without an answer for the all-wise teacher.

She pointed at my neck and said, "Your shirt, how do you get into it? I see all you girls wearing them, but I can't figure out how you get into it." My shirt! My turtleneck! She was looking for a zipper or something!

I sighed with relief and pulled at the neck to show her and said, "It stretches; it just pulls over my head." Ah, the answer, the simple answer. I smiled with extreme relief that I hadn't come up blank and went back to the intense grammar exam. We didn't dare laugh, but I know there were many smiles around the room. Who knows, maybe she did it on purpose to lighten the atmosphere. The room had been ice cold with fear and trepidation as we were carefully putting our answers down, but she had warmed it up with a simple question that showed us our all wise British Literature teacher was real. She had never understood a turtleneck.

As you read this, please don't check my grammar. I like to write poetically or conversationally. I don't claim to be perfect. I am not writing for a grade today, but thank you, Miss Markham, for teaching me grammar.