The first time it was brought to my attention that I am not “normed” properly was my second or third year of teaching. The middle school where I taught was on the far east side of Des Moines with all the problems that “east of Eden” implies. The principal, a stern old schooler who would eventually come to loathe me, had a small group of us meeting after school one day to discuss best practices. Best practices is the last new title given to the collection of common sense things that all good teachers do to engage, corral, coerce and lift up their kids. I don’t know what they term it now as I have been out of education for almost a year and the buzz words move at the speed of sound in my former field though the ideas never really change.

At some point in the conversation, I pointed out that much of what we were discussing were practical things that all teachers do. My principal turned to me, smiled, and said,

“No, they don’t.”

“But I do these things.”

“You are not like other teachers.”

At the time I didn’t feel complimented and perhaps I wasn’t being given one. I was puzzled. Teaching was something that just came to me like manna in the desert to the Hebrews minus the wandering aimlessly. It never occurred to me that I was different. I thought I had discovered a place to belong. Or I hoped I had.

Today I find myself in much the same place career wise. While most others see the blogosphere as inferior to writing for print, I see limitless possibilities and opportunities for writers. Self-publishing and writing for nothing but the chance to be read are not generally viewed as positives by “real writers”. I can see their point. The goal is to give up the day job at some point and one can’t do that unless one’s words are being purchased.

I would like to be purchased. Bought and taken home to be perused and thought about and discussed. It’s not that I don’t have that goal too, but the true aim of my writing is to find an impact point within the people who read my thoughts. Does this put me out of stride with other writers as my long ago self was out of stride with other teachers? For the most part, I guess it does though I have found many more like minds as a writer than I ever did as a teacher.

Being different bothered me when I was younger. Lately however I have come to celebrate my inner Pippi Longstocking. There is nothing wrong, in fact much right, about walking backward or on my hands, and though I am much more likely to walk backwards than with my legs akimbo in the air (due to the gravity thing and my lack of agility), I am happy to be happy with my stride these days.