Writing this story hopefully will help me to finally overcome the injury to my inner “creative child”.  Who would have thought that a casual comment could have caused so much pain!  This happened in 1958—my senior year at Sacred Heart Academy.  The teacher was Sister Mary Columba, a nun of the Sisters of Mercy Order.  It felt like she had no mercy that day as she looked over my shoulder in English class to read the sentences I was assigned to formulate from our spelling words. 
              That day I must have used some words incorrectly in my sentences—at least in the stern eyes of the teacher.  She was also our Principal, but she was no “pal” to this unsuspecting student.  Her words will forever ring in my mind, “You have trouble with words, don’t you, Margaret.”  I had felt good about my choice of sentences and her comment shocked me.  I looked at the classmate who had been sharing creative endeavors with me in disbelief and Marion’s expression told me she was equally stunned.  I was too shocked and hurt to say anything and she moved along with no further explanation for her comment.   She had been a stern principal and I dared not give a retort. 
 Words had fascinated me.   A Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary was the top suggestion on my Christmas gift list the previous year which made my friends think I was crazy!   Little did Sister Columba know that I enjoyed looking up their etymology, or history of pre-English forms, from which they were derived.  My second love was cross-referencing synonyms.  Sometimes it was difficult to put my dictionary away.   I would keep my old dictionary for years despite the fact that a much newer version would have helped my studies.  You could compare it to the difficulty of giving up a set of well-marked scriptures that was falling apart at the seams.
 I have always regretted not asking what she meant.  If I could talk to her today—fifty odd years later—I would tell her that her opinion of my work was not correct (hoping that I’d be right).  She might have used the words differently, but mine were just fine.  “I do love to write and I’ll use them the way I want to…thank you very much.”
 “Fifty years of grief is too long, Margaret.  Snap out of it!”, I’m telling myself.  My writing has not been affected.  My dictionary is always close by for easy reference.  But my confidence in speaking to people known as “learned” has been shaky through the years, especially if they are English teachers!  And now that memory problems have crept in with my “extended age” I find it disturbing to have anyone acting impatient with my struggle to find the right words needed.  Panic sets in and makes it worse!  My new mantra is “Smile, relax, take a deep breath, and let my brain work.”
 Does it work? Not always.  My mind usually blurt out objections…“Who am I kidding”,  “It’s not that easy”, and “My brain is dead”.  Then I counter with positive feedback…”My child artist is still a baby.  I will fall down, but children are quick to jump up and try again.” Or, “You don’t fail until you stop getting up from a fall—and I will not give up! Thank you very much.”

Margaret Crosby d’Aquin
November 2014