This should be interesting.
I’ve projected this scenario dozens of times. Multiple iterations until I achieved the desired objective. A selected group of individuals sitting around a table, sometimes listening, sometimes questioning. I’m standing in front of a whiteboard on the wall, steering the conversation like it’s a Segway— I lean, it turns.
There’s something new each time, but somehow it always seems to dissolve into that moment during second grade roll call when my teacher’s eyebrows scrunched together before she looked up. “
Emmitt? Like the football player?”
“No. Emit,” I tell her. “As in, to give off light.”
I should have known right then. I was a smart little snot. But I had no idea what I was in for. A relentless struggle. Upstream. Like those salmon who eventually die from exhaustion. At least they achieve their goal. I gave up before middle- school. I figured I’d have enough to worry about. I was right.
Well played, mom. Your lethal combination of scientific nerdiness and Finnish ancestry in one name. Clever. It’s like you knew I would need to learn the value of struggle right from the beginning. You were training me. But tonight won’t be like grade school.