Things aren't always what they seem
By the time I was five years old I was planting a small garden behind our house, drawing simple landscape plans and making trips to the local nursery with my dad. No one had any idea that I was a dyslexic learner because of the things that came easily for me. Reading included.
When it came time to move on to higher education I was confused at why anyone would pursue a degree in something that wasn't hands-on. Things have changed; I've wised up a bit over the years, but back then a degree in horticulture just made sense to me.
For horticulture exams our professor, Dr. Harold Schmalfeld, would line tables with small pieces of bark, leaves, berries, or written descriptions of tree characteristics and it was our job to identify the genus and species of the plant.
Botany exams were no different. We were expected to identify a variety of plants but for that final exam we were expected to provide one of our own test questions.
No problem, I thought! Identification tests are the easiest and we supply one question ourselves. What could be easier!?"
Back in the day
Back in those days the plant Euonymus alatus had not become the pest that it is today so when I found some growing in the wild I thought I had this bring-your-own-test-question thing down pat. I marched in for that final test like a proud peacock strutting my feathers, only to find out that the real excitement was soon to happen.
I guess it was a few days later when our grades were posted for that final class in our final botany series when I marched in to discover the horrible truth. I'd missed one question.
The misdeed occurred, of all places, with my own sample.
"Impossible! Has to be a huge mistake" I thought as I ventured down to the professor's office. "Should have this cleared up in a matter of minutes!"
Winged Wahoo
Minutes did go by as we discussed everything besides Euonymus alatus. Why not take a little time to talk to the professor, I rationalized, thinking this was all but a done deal. But when the topic of identifying the plant finally arose all niceties slammed to a halt.
"That plant is not a burning bush", the professor dug in, his demeanor changing. "My wife is Hawaiian, in Hawaii that plant is called a winged wahoo."
"But, sir", I interjected, "Here in the mainland we call it a burning bush, wouldn't you agree?"
"No, it's a Winged Wahoo."
In my mind 'who's the dean of this department' quickly popped up and 'maybe I can get a clear answer out of the dean.' I said that out loud at one point...seems there was a minute detail I'd neglected to learn. Mr. Professor Winged Wahoo was the class instructor and the dean.
How lucky for me! Okay, maybe reading isn't so easy because how in the world did I miss that little detail?
You'll never amount to anything
Without missing a beat the professor jumped on the chance to map out my life for me--
"You are never going to amount to anything in life," he threw out at me.
"You'll never own a nice home, have children or amount to anything!" he concluded.
And there it was, he was labeling me a loser!
Winged Wahoos of life!
For some reason that experience came to mind this fall weekend when the temperatures outside were summer-like and it was a perfect for a little final yard work of the year.
I have a new house and with this house I have inherited a few winged wahoos. It's funny now---I've owned a few houses since then, managed to raise four children and have done a few other things along the way. There are plenty of things I'd still like to accomplish in this lifetime but I think I can say I've been able to amount to at least something!
But this isn't really about me. What about the kid who hears over and over 'you'll never amount to anything'? I think there's more for this old dyslexic horticulturalist to do out there in this world!
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