The Proof of Your Skills

I have often searched for affirmation of my skills. Am I a good basketball player? What do people think of my singing voice? Little did I know that this search could end with one simple trip. But unlike most trips, this one didn’t move forward. It went back. Way back. Back to first grade.

With one community service credit left and a couple weeks before my summer job, I volunteered at my wife’s alma mater. I started in the kindergarten class, but all they were doing was coloring butterflies and picking noses, so my wife (then fiancée) suggested I visit first grade.

I remember first grade. It was really quite wonderful. Rather than buying food with money, I bartered. An apple was worth a banana, two granola bars were worth a Capri Sun, and a pack of Gushers was worth an entire lunch. But better than our bartering system was our source of motivation. In college, we strive for excellence with the hope of getting into graduate school or landing a fulltime job at Starbucks or something. But in first grade, it was all about the stickers; a tangible form of affirmation.

I was reminiscing when I entered the mayhem of the first grade classroom.

“Are you Dodge’s dad?” one of them asked.

“Nope,” I replied. “I’m just hanging out with you guys for the day.”

“Sweet! Hey guys, he’s hanging out with us for the day!” he shouted to his classmates.

Instant popularity. I could feel the affirmation.

“Recess time,” the teacher said.

The chaos commenced as the first graders collected their jackets and lined up at the door.

“Are you going to come play ‘kick the ball over the wall’ with us?” one of the boys asked.

“As long as you teach me how to play,” I said.

“Ah, it’s easy. You’ll pick it up quick.”

After setting the world record for kicking the ball over the wall, (which I explained to them was actually the college record, so they still had a chance to set the elementary record), they invited me to eat lunch with them. I was almost certain that the key to affirmation was a large group of friends and illustrious invitations.

Even before we sat at the table the bartering began, and soon most of the first graders had exchanged their goods.

“Jake, you’ve got to go to the Family Fun Center. It is the best place in the world!”

“Yah, dude, you have to go! It is the funnest!”

As we continued the feast, my progressing theory of affirmation came to a screeching halt.

“So,” the boy across from me began, “how many enemies you got?”

“Um…I don’t know…” I thought for a minute. “The devil?”

“Oh,” he replied, unsatisfied. “The proof of your skills is how many enemies you’ve got.”

So much for stickers.