dangled.

I went to a little Christian school in the small town of Canaan, Maine when I was in 5th grade. My dad had just retired from the Marines and had taken a job as the school's principal (and taught a few subjects as well.) It was fun having my Dad around during the day. He'd pop in and say "hello" and all the other fifth graders would be so jealous.

Every year the school had an Fine Arts Program. We were able to show off our "art" skills from that year. We couldn't cover the walls with everyone's paintings and there weren't enough tables to display every clay sculpture nor was there time for every child to sing a song or read a story, so we had a bit of a competition to see whos whats would be displayed.

I am not an artist. I am, however, competative (no really?) and was slightly bummed when they announced how things would be chosen for bragging rights. Then, Mrs B, said there would also be a reading competition. One student from the school would read a short story among all the singing and showing of art.

This was my in.

First we had to pick a story. So after weeks of fingering through books and many trips to the library, I found mine. It was tricky because they had to be so many words and read under so long a time. But I was determined. Mine was called "It's a Piece of Cake." (or something like that.)

First was our class competition... I had to beat out my fellow 5th graders. They all said I was the best reader, well, me and Jenny Amedon. But when Jenny got nervous and cleared her throat a lot, so the odds were in my favor. The class reading was easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. Everyone but one voted for me. I think I might have forgotten I was allowed to vote for myself...

Next up, beat the 6th graders. A bit trickier, but I was confident and again, all but one vote was for me. I really needed to start remembering I could vote for myself...

Then the sectional reading. One student from every 2 grades was to read competatively based on their reading levels. It didn't seem fair that I was up against and could potentially beat a 2nd grader, but was I worried about fair? nope. just the winning part.

Some of the little kids were pretty darn cute. And for this round the teacher did the voting (right when I figured out I could vote for myself too!) which meant cute was a powerful angle. In the end, skill beat their cuteness (though in 5th grade I was pretty adorable.)

Yup, this is my 5th grade school picture. I am wearing my home-made corduroy kitty-cat jumper that I wore at least twice a week with different colored turtlenecks.

Victory was mine. And now so was a slot in the Fine Arts Program. And I had the perfect dress picked out. It was white with fushia, teal and aqua blue spots. The dress was ribbed in the same pink around the sleeves, waits, neck and bottom. The skirt of the dress sort of fanned out. It was a hand-me-down from Leanne, but I rocked it. And to top it of, for my birthday Jenny, who had great taste in accessories, got me a pair of dangly earrings. Each bead of the earring was a perfect match of the three colors of polkadots on the dress.

I invisioned myself with my hair curled. My dots matching perfectly with my earrings ad they swayed against my neck and chin. I might do a little shake of my head when I get to the podium to move my flowing curls out of my face and flash the earings a bit... and then I would read, bringing the audience to tears with triumph as the little boy in the story finally makes a base hit. They would all stand up with applause and my parents beaming would finally publicly declare that I was indeed their favorite child.

I smiled as I put the earrings in to show off my reading debute outfit to my parents...

I ran up the stairs beaming... only to have my mom say "what earrings are you wearing?" I guess this is a good time to share the rule we had in our house: No Dangles. I was young and needed to wear young-girl-earrings. When I was older, like a teenager, then I could wear teenager-earrings. I had somehow hoped my parent's pride for my grand accomplishment would override the rule... but I was a delusional 5th grader.

She told me how lovely my dress was. How wonderful we could make my hair. How proud she was that I would be doing the reading.... but rules are rules.

No dangles.

I thought perhaps she just wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe she wasn't aware of how perfectly the earrings matched my dress... turns out she was aware.

No dangles.

I was deflated. I walked (okay, more like marched) downstairs and closed (okay, more like slammed) my bedroom door. I'm not a crier, so no tears came, but I wished they had so when I threw myself onto my bed I could sob.

The night came. I was getting dressed and asked one more time if the dangles were an option, just in case my parents had realized their mistake. Nope.

No dangles.

My mom even brought out a pair of hers that were teal-ish, but I informed her how mom-like they were. And they just didn't match.

I put the earrings in my purse and before the program started met with my friends in the girls bathroom. I put them on so they could see the entire outfit and they oo-ed and aw-ed and confirmed how perfectly they matched. I was a little rebel, but I just couldn't wear them. So I took them off.

My turn came to read my short story, and my teacher smiled at me and put a sticky note on the top of my story to "remember to show that smile." with a smiley face. I read it and she winked at me. I beamed. And read my heart out. I didn't even remember to shake my head to move my not-so-curly-anymore-hair.

The applause came. I smiled and though I didn't have dangles, I did it.

Now almost 20 years later I can still quote lines from my short story.
I can still remember the texture of my dress.
And I still know how perfect those earrings would have been.

When I turned 16, I looked in my jewelry box and saw the dangles, and laughed "ha, like I would ever wear these..."

perspective is everything.