Getting it Wrong?

Here it is, the failure entry. I have heard the struggles with this entry, so I need to write it in order to understand the difficulty. After all, there are many leaves on my failure tree, so I just have to pick one. But I can't...these failures, the honest ones, are scary, scary reflections. I will gladly share my celebrations and sadness, and even the faults of others. But the most colossal dishonesties...are mine to hide. But. I gave the damn assignment. And there are so many teacher textbook reasons I should write this! I should inspire the students to take risks. I should model voice in writing. I should lead by example. But, it comes down to this. I told you I would do it. And breaking that promise would be just another failure.
So here we go.

I betrayed trust. Fail.

When I was about 14, I decided to be dangerous. Being abandoned by my father and abused by his successor left me wary and needy. Cliche as it may sound, I yearned for male approval and protection. I know, many girls become promiscuous to get attention. But that's not where this story is going. I went everywhere else, flying without a net, wondering if someone was going to catch me.
I told myself I was brave. Suburban James Dean or some crap. I would skip a class to go to lunch. Skip a day to go to the city. Snuck out. Stayed out.

But my madness had method. My grades were up; making me untouchable. I was sometimes detained, locked down, written up. Mainly though, I was an 89 GPA in a school of thousands. And I thought I liked it, flying under the radar and making my own rules.
But sometimes my brain would betray me. My 10th grade English teacher called me aside to discuss  my A+ essay.  Its eloquent anger had shaken him and I won a trip to the school social worker. He was passing the buck; another man handing me off to be solved.

So let me short hand this for the sake of being of semi school appropriate. I was a bad kid. I kept pushing; until I got pushed back. Fast forward. English 11. Mr. Markowitz. Bad ass in a sweater vest.

I aced the vocabulary quiz. And so I cut his class.
And he called my mother.

Back in class, I argued vehemently about Hamlet's sincerity. An "A" for debate, surely this would keep him quiet.
And so I spent class time flinging myself into Lake Minnewaska.

And he called my mother.

Twenty vocabulary sentences. Perfect essay. Completed novel.
And I took the train to Union Square and walked too slowly on the streets.

Mr. Markowitz called my mother.

And I finally sat in my seat. Every day. I learned. I earned course credit by tutoring weaker students. Win.

Mr. Markowitz trained my as official tutor and enrolled me in a high profile peer tutoring program. My students improved and I had earned approval.

And I took my students off campus for lunch. For the whole day.

And he threw me out of the program.

And so, why, why in the hell would I betray the trust of a man who had shown me faith? Why did I fail? I didn't find the answer until decades later. And then I became a hard ass teacher who loved her kids. I love them so much that I will risk their wrath and anger by keeping them safe, keeping them working hard, and keeping them honest. Test the limits and I won't catch you when you fall; but I will teach you land, and fly again.

And so, I failed. And he won again. He had left me with no exits. I had trust, I had brains and just needed the courage to do the right thing.

Now listen, I am a role model, an instructor...your teacher. So I will deny most of this story. But here's the truth. My success or failure is now my choice. My past is just a good story now -- not my identity and not an excuse.

The last time I saw Mr. Markowitz, I gushed over him at a NYS English Teacher Council conference. I hugged up him and his sweater vest. And then I called my mom.