They say you can tell if someone’s a genius from early on. If that’s the case, I’m a little bit worried about my own genius—let me tell you a story from my childhood.
One day in kindergarten, my teacher asked us to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up.
Being an ambitious little bunch, my classmates drew all kinds of cool pictures envisioning their bright future—doctor, astronaut, flight attendant—you name it, they drew it.
But what did little Rosel draw?
A sheep on a mountain.
No, I didn’t want to change the world or find a cure for cancer. Yes, dear reader, I just wanted to grow up to become a docile animal. To this day, I’m not exactly sure what inspired me to draw a sheep on the page as opposed to, say, Miss Universe.
I could have at least drawn an animal that was a little fiercer, a little more independent and a little more exotic. Like… a lion. A dolphin. A peacock. Even a goat! They at least produce delicious cheese and run around the petting zoo amidst enthusiastic kids. But no, my five-year-old self was content being the middle-of-the-road, follower-type sheep, always under careful watch by sheepdogs and shepherds.
How boring.
What else do I about this day? I my teacher coming around my table, quizzically eyeing my picture, only to exclaim, “Well, you can’t be that!” I going home feeling very defeated about my future, and angrily throwing away that picture on the way home. I making a teary-eyed confession about the day to my mother—who, I think, comforted me but was probably bewildered and a bit worried about her crazy child’s future.
Well, time has ed. I am now 21 years old, with no more Animorph dreams and about to head out to the world of “real” aspirations.
Maybe because the question, “So, what are you doing in September?” has replaced the “How are you”s of my life, I have been reverting back to my childhood dream a lot and trying to decipher my affinity for sheep in a meaningful way. Maybe my city upbringing is painting an over-idealized perspective on nature, but I find myself becoming more attached to the (imposed views of) peaceful life of an ideal sheep frolicking around in a field with a handsome shepherd.
Maybe that’s what my sheep picture represented—not being an animal itself, but being in a peaceful state of mind, living a slow life. In a world where I sometimes have to tell myself that a two-page assignment worth 10 per cent of my mark isn’t going to ruin my life forever—and having a half-hour lunch break is ok—maybe I do have a lesson to learn from my modest childhood dream. Finally, a note to all kindergarten teachers—please don’t crush little kids’ hopes to be what they want to be; they will still your disapproval, even at 21. I mean, who’s to say you can’t follow your dreams?
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