So you want to be a student…
Katie Conlon
Mr. Eaton
Eng 121
August 24, 2005
Diagnostic Essay
After Home
The principle shook your right hand and handed a piece of marbled paper, thin and bundled with red ribbon, into your left. It read your name, the date and the school you graduated from in curly dignified lettering. I had no doubt of that paper’s existence for you. I knew this day would break. Your day of accomplishment, and unwelcome fear, all tied together, rolled into one sheet of paper. You must greet that unwelcome fear with courage to fail, curiosity, and kindness.
When you came to me asking about piano lessons, I was incredibly elated to hear an interest in music from you. Granted, I heard you sing along to my Stevie Wonder records off key, but if you wanted this passion in your life, so be it. Your piano teacher, Mrs. Milwald was stern and did not appear to have a musical cell in her body. She told me that she stressed heavily on rhythm starting with the first lesson, in the scale of C. You came home that day, your then ten year old fingers, aching. “She made me play the scale five hundred times Momma!” you cried, “I just don’t get it, I want to quit.” But darling, you can not expect perfection after only one lesson. Your fingers will slip now and then, because they do not know their way. You will falter. With due diligence however, your fingers will not stop to think, they will be as efficient as clock work. That will be your success. Three weeks later I was hearing the first measure of “Three Blind Mice” redundantly. A week after that, I heard “Three Blind Mice” in full. So, darling, do not keep your hands from faltering, let them slip, because after practice they will march strong.
“How does a light bulb work Momma?” You were in third grade where learning the ins and outs of electricity. To this day I can not answer your question. I am not an electrician or a scientist who would know darling. I took you to the library and let you check out books about Benjamin Franklin, and Eli Whitney. I thought it to be a great alternative to you dissecting our electronics at home. I still can not get the blender to chop. It is the most beautiful occurrence; to see your open curiosity alive and playful. You had so many questions, and still do. I want you to always be hungry for what you are yet to know. You amaze me with your mind. How it surrounds any thought like an enormous octopus, from every angle with every arm from your brain. You must always reach, you must always thirst.
Your hair was tossed ands peopled with insects, grainy with sand, your nose bleeding. It pained me to see you maimed so. “What happened darling?” I asked you sadly. “Tom Krantz said I stole his yellow Tonka bull dozer! But you GAVE me that Tonka to me last Christmas, and he didn’t believe me and started calling me a liar and saying that you wouldn’t buy it anyways cause we’re poor…and… so I hit him.” We walked to the Krantz’s home, much to your dismay to apologize. You were, and are still best friends with Tom, and so it is best to mend these things. “I didn’t mean it,
Postscript: I didn’t finish. Hope you liked it.
pss- I can not wait to be a mother someday.