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My First "F"
I think I was in 4th grade when I received my first “F” on a school assignment. I am a curious person by nature and have always loved to learn, so school was mostly a pleasure for me and the assignments of my elementary school classes were typically interesting and usually completed on time.
Except for the spring I turned 10 years old. Near to our rural K-5 school were fields tall with spring wildflowers and fuzzy grasses. We were each asked to bring a glass jar from home and into the bottom of the jars, our teacher carefully placed cotton balls soaked in some mysterious smelling chemical. With the lids screwed back on, we set out on our nature hike from the school parking lot.
Our assignment was to collect as many butterfly samples as we could that afternoon. After they stopped moving in our jars, we were to take them out and with tiny pins mount them on a piece of styrofoam. Identifying and labeling them was the final part of our mission.
But let’s be clear – our teacher was tasking us to kidnap and kill butterflies with our home-made death traps by invading their habitat.
How could I do it? I talked to the butterflies in our family’s garden all the time. I was convinced they were special messengers from God. Butterflies have incredible superpowers; they start out as masters-of-camouflage caterpillars and metamorphose into ephemeral flashy works of art.
My jar remained empty. I distanced myself from my friends. I wouldn’t show anyone my jar on the way back to school. We were supposed to complete the pinning and labeling as homework. I never turned in a project.
When my report card came out at the end of the school year a few weeks later, I was petrified to show my parents. After dinner, I sheepishly handed over the small brown envelope and waited. Mom and Dad read it, and Dad turned to ask me what happened? Why was there an “F” in science?
Mustering my bravery, I inhaled deeply and in a big rush with heavy, hot tears streaming down my face I blurted out the details of the murderous mission with which I had been charged by my teacher. Sniffling loudly, I waited for the wrath of my parents to descend upon me.
My father simply nodded his head in agreement with me and said something about why would anyone want to hurt any of God’s creatures? Especially the pretty ones. My mother smiled and simply walked into the kitchen to get more tea.
Eventually, I would learn to draw butterflies, label their parts, distinguish different species, and come to identify with the mythology of their archetype. Most importantly, I learned that my virtues, instilled and encouraged by my parents, are a central part of my identity. In those few minutes that warm June evening, my parents recognized and honored my aptitude for appreciating beauty in the world and affirmed my strengths of bravery, honesty, love, kindness, and spirituality.
The “F” on my report card is now fondly remembered as a story about how to re-frame failure. Sure, I failed to complete a fourth-grade science project. But I also learned that my values which lead me to honor and respect the rights of all creatures do not define me as a failure. On the contrary, my very humanity is built on both loving and being loved, being aware of the feelings of other souls, and being true to myself.
#iambutterflysarah