Building a generation of dreamers

OOOOOffff, my heart
OOOOOffff, my heart

My first day of kindergarten I came home from school and announced, “They didn’t teach me to subtract or to write. This is a waste of time. I’m not going back.”

I went back.

My relationship with math never got much better.

I learned to write. I fell in love.

When I was small, it was in crayon.

When I was older, I wore pencil after pencil down to a nub.

Through the years, I filled journals and notebooks with my hopes and dreams. And really emo poetry about butterflies.

When my baby girl got sick, I first published my words for other people to read.

When I had my strokes, the doctors warned that I’d never be able to communicate again.

I remember sitting at a window while a therapist held a pen waiting for my brain to form sentences out of the words trapped inside.

I still find ways to communicate.

Days have gone by.

Many words breathed new life.

I helped my 10 yo build her first website.

Some have warned against letting my daughter have too much freedom with her words. I understand that.

But I also wonder where my creative soul would be if there had been someone to feed it encouragement and foster its deepest craving.

I want to be that for her. I want my kids to always know their dreams are important and worth chasing. At any age.

Read more of me at Free Anissa & Aiming Low and you can follow me at @AnissaMayhew.

Article Posted 5 years Ago

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