This is a quick write piece that I wrote in my journalism workshop last week. We had about ten minutes to write about an anecdote, including two paragraphs of introduction/storytelling and two paragraphs of reflection. It's silly but I haven't put anything on here for awhile... so why not?!
Third grade was a pivotal year for me--I mastered multiplication up to four, I learned that gay meant something other than happy, and I got hit in the head with a dodgeball by my crush, which of course meant he liked me. I was young and free with only one problem-- I did not have reading glasses. It wasn't that I needed reading glasses, but my cool friend Kristen had arrived at school one day with the cutest tortoise shell Laura Ashley glasses and I knew I had to have some too. I asked her how she had gotten them:
"Mrs. Burke noticed that I was squinting in class. She told my mom and we went to the doctor and he said I needed them. I really don't though."
She as in denial and I was green with envy. That day, I made a point to squint every time my teacher looked at me, which was often because I was raising my hand at every opportunity so that she would notice me squinting. My efforts paid off and she asked me to stay behind after class. I stood next to her desk casually, trying to hide my sincere glee as she wrote what was bound to be an urgent letter informing my parents of my blindness and urging them to get me some glasses-- Laura Ashley, preferably, with tortoise shell frames.
When we got to the eye doctor my mom was pleased to see that I passed the first few sight tests easily; the death grip on her credit card must have released considerably. I knew time was running out--the last sight test was upon me and I had to make it count. I missed a whole line on the chart. The doctor gave me an opportunity to try the line again, and again I failed to respond with the letters in their proper order. The doctor told my mom that he couldn't figure out what had happened on the last test; I had gotten several other lines with much smaller fonts correct. He prescribed very mild corrective lenses that he said I should only use when reading. I cherished my beautiful, well-earned Laura Ashley glasses for a good three days before I became embarrassed to wear them in class. Mrs. Burke would tell Kristen and I to put on our glasses every day during free reading, until the day, a few weeks later, when I respectfully informed her that my corrective lenses had done the trick and I no longer needed their aid.
In retrospect, I was a devious, superficial eight year old. Now, I embrace my good vision because I am one of the few people I know who is not bothered with contact lenses and lens cleaner on daily basis. I do occasionally wish I had a pair of glasses to make me look pensive and well-read, but I realize that it would be ridiculous and expensive to indulge such a petty desire.
As I have gotten older I have learned to appreciate the parts of my life that are in perfect working order, rather than hoping for some obscure ailment for people to acknowledge and pity. Third grade taught me that there is always more to look forward to. I went on to master complex multiplication AND division, and I learned that being bombarded by your crush is not the best foundation for a relationship. Such clarity could only come from experience and I still have my tiny Laura Ashley glasses to remind me to appreciate the good things in life and to be grateful for what I have.
