Though it may seem more prevalent in East Asian cultures, there are sure signs of it in every community. It is no longer admirable to be an intelligent or talented individual. Instead, there is a mass interest in the one-in-a-million prodigy. Here, I’ll call it the “genius factor.” This began as a kind of intrigue (on TV or online videos) and turned into a demand. An exceedingly skilled pianist doesn’t have the allure of an equally masterful twelve-year-old. It’s made me think of my age more often than I’d like to admit.

I am, in a sense, conditioned to be impatient. Instead of wanting to take time to learn, I am fastened on being good now. Every year, it compounds. How we never forget the desperation that carries us. Without knowing it, I wanted to not just be a champion writer; I wanted the genius factor that comes with being young at the same time. Looking outside of myself, at the viral speed of Internet interests, I thought that that was the only way someone else could care. And I wouldn’t blame them for it.

~~~

Even I was convinced—what do I have to say ten years later that I could not somehow torture out of myself now, to reach a more vast audience in a receptive culture. After all, what is the writer without her hard-won readers? Still, every year passes so easily and without incident. I am no one-in-a-million nor can I glean the genius factor from my very ordinary soul. I suppose, coming to such an understanding is in itself admirable, if not to anyone else but me.

How unnatural of this world to take the human expectation (to evolve in love in mind through faith, hope, and charity, instilled into the soul before even birth), and have this expectation driven into the deep recesses, to be cast off like child’s play, calling it immaturity, and reificating the experience into “growing up.”

I look at my life lines and think, is it okay to be such a jealous, overzealous, analytical, critical person. And how long does one live, thinking this way (too long)? But I won’t stop, see I can’t because I still am helplessly that child looking for a goal but. There is no stop or rest or breathe or sleep or walk or lean. Because there are promises I made to the people I love, and at least to them, I could be a woman of my word, if not much else.

I’ve been teaching an 11th grade class at Valley High School in Santa Ana for a few weeks now. I love it very much and I feel a few drops fill my cup. Hopefully, they will be inspired to continue to college after high school. Few of them have an artistic niche; they can sketch things so vividly. I pray they may nurture such talents to turn them into fulfilling occupations. Just a couple drops. And to understand that that is enough.

To Prudence, Fortitude, Temperance, and Justice.