I lost my parents very early in life. If that wasn’t already going to be a potential educational setback, I found myself pregnant at the wise age of 17 (when you don’t necessarily worry about an education because you already know everything). I don’t really want to revisit the negative aspects surrounding the particular night of how that happened. Besides, it really doesn’t matter anymore. I moved on from there and have never once regretted being a mom. I see each one of my children as a blessing from heaven; they’ve made me a better person all the way around. But I had to support us.
I graduated high school early and had to choose a career path quickly because I’d just been inducted into the adult world. The experience wasn’t as wonderfully freeing as I’d once envisioned. I was able to get an associate’s degree while working part-time and was blessed to obtain a piecemeal education throughout my early career years, eventually adding on a bachelor’s degree. Funny how, just when you believe you’ve gotten your life on course, fate chooses a different path for you to travel. Out of the blue, I was asked to begin a health career program and to teach within it. Along came my master’s degree, truthfully in a field I had never set out to master. Needless to say, I didn’t feel worthy, didn’t feel prepared.
I don’t know why, but I found myself expressing those doubts one evening at church, while explaining my career shift to those listening: “I never imagined myself being a teacher.”
That was the moment when everything connected for me, as my pastor’s wife, a teacher herself, matter-of-factly proclaimed, “Why, I don’t know how you could have expected to be anything else. Your father was a teacher. Your mother was a teacher. Your aunt and uncle were teachers. You even had a sister who was a teacher. How could you not have become a teacher? Dear, teaching is in your blood.”
Trifecta has a bit of an eerie air in preference, so it comes as no surprise that this week’s writing word challenge would be BLOOD.
However, check your rear view mirror carefully. Not because anything creepy is sneaking up behind you (or maybe it is!), but because the third definition is creepily sneaky. This week’s third choice in definition is:
Disclaimer: No pigs were hurt in the writing of this blog. Well, except for the one being dissected. But that was going to take place anyway.
Next Disclaimer: No responsibility can be taken for any emotional damage incurred by this pig’s close family members viewing this blog site. Pigs are not allowed on this Web site. No, it was not Wilbur; so E.B. White cannot make any claims either.