We’re all there at one point or another. The dreaded class project. It comes in many forms—papier-mâché, glitter-covered, or construction paper monstrosities. In this particular case, it was a bona fide woodworking assignment. We never want our kids to be those kids, do we? The ones who walk in on science fair day and have something strung together and mounted with clay, only to pit themselves against the live tornado in a bowl or glow-in-the-dark bouncy balls. Bless their hearts. We just want them to have a killer project without our dying in the process. Without its turning into an all-nighter and our moonlighting as fourth-graders desperately trying to make sure Emily gets an A while simultaneously impressing the pants off Jill and her friends. That Jill. So let me set the stage for you. It was in second grade in Mrs. G’s class and the assignment was to make a birdhouse. That was it. No dimensions or color specifications. You can make it however you’d like, but it must be functional, able to house birds, and your little 7-year-old hands must be involved in the construction process. My able-bodied father took one for the team on this one and planned out the project with me. We decided to paint it yellow to match the color of our house at the time. {Coordination is key, amiright?} We purchased the materials and planned our house, a moderate size, which would fit nicely into one of our pecan trees, and then, it happened. My little wheels began to turn. As I mulled over the layout for our project, I asked my dad, “Why is there a stick in the front?” He explained that this was the perch that they held onto with their little feet when standing outside. I was appalled, y’all! Do you mean to tell me they can’t stand outside and just enjoy the day? They are forced to curl their teensy bird toes around a stick and balance? And what if there’s another bigger bird—possibly a bully—who hogged the stick? I mean, the inhumanity! I wouldn’t stand for it. “Dad, we are building a porch.” “I’m sorry…?” came the reply. Yes. I wanted our birdhouse to have a nice porch where birds could stand, relax, and enjoy our backyard with freedom from holding onto a perch for dear life. {Okay, this is second grade and I didn’t quite conceive that birds are meant for this sort of thing.} My precious daddy, y’all. He did it. He stood by and let me build that porch and never said a word. I marched into the classroom quite pleased with myself and our magnificent birdhouse. I was the only one—apparently—who was concerned about these poor birds and their weary feet because everyone else had torture sticks poking out of them. But here is the real point: I did not know that I was different because my father didn’t tell me that I was. {Even now as I write this, I would swear someone is chopping onions nearby.} He let me be the offbeat, creative person that I was. I completed the assignment, there was no harm in the approach we took. He gave me the space to be exactly who I was and interpret the project my way. We hung that masterpiece with pride and maybe it was just my dazzled interpretation, but it was the most popular real estate on the block! Our birdhouse always had residents from blue jays to sparrows. It resided in the pecan tree outside my bedroom window for years until the roof quite literally fell off. My dad always told me, “It’s because we added a porch.” If my dad had told me no, if he had made our birdhouse look like everyone else’s project, I may not have had the courage to chase after my creative tendencies—to trust and believe in them. I may not have had my first creative work published at the tender age of third grade or pursued careers in journalism and marketing. It’s possible I wouldn’t have interviewed athletes or musicians or had the opportunity to work on international campaigns. Is it possible that all of these things are hardwired and may have happened anyway? Sure. But I’m inclined to think it all started with a birdhouse. xoxo
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AuthorWriting is really my outlet, so you'll mostly see my prose on here. But William might occasionally make a guest appearance. Archives
May 2021
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