Once upon a time, there was a little girl with quite a few big dreams. She grew up in a wonderland of sorts with two amazing parents, a brother whom she idolized, grandparents who threw birthday parties for her dolls, and a dog that could only be described as the gentlest being ever on earth. The only thing that was missing was the white picket fence, but the little girl never seemed to notice. She didn't like to be fenced in anyway; she preferred to run wild outside even if that resulted in some talks about looking both ways before crossing the street. The little girl was incredibly happy. She picked berries in her grandparents' backyard, ran around trying to tackle her older brother, wore a princess tiara to her tea parties, and lived a childhood that only very lucky little girls get to live.

As all little girls must, she started kindergarden when she was four. Suddenly, the wonders of the outdoors were replaced by rules about which square she had to stand or sit on for what seemed like an eternity. The little girl grew miserable. She cried every single day in kindergarden. Whenever it came time to go school, the little girl feigned every imaginable injury and ailment. She swore school was her enemy, and she was going to break free as soon as she got a say in the matter.

As the years progressed, the little girl started to grow up; in the process, she gained invaluable friendships, yet she still hated school with a fiery passion. Though all tests and scores indicated that the girl was an academic success, she still felt mostly imprisoned within the walls of the building where she earned her awards. Somewhere in the midst of crying and arguing that she didn't need school and braces (she lost that argument too) for that matter, the girl fell head over heals in love with reading. She read everything and anything. Though she might still be sitting in the classroom, the girl was on deep sea adventures learning about sharks, searching for clues with Nancy Drew, and falling in love with Mr. Darcy; ultimately, with each journey, the girl found more pieces of herself.

Despite her earlier threats to quit school, she continued on to college where she learned that the classroom didn't have to be a prison. For the first time, not only wasn't the now young woman feigning illnesses, but she attended class even when she actually was sick. She fell in love with college and learning and everything that education should be.

With her new outlook on education, she decided to become a teacher. Yes, the little girl who hated school returned to it of her own free will. She decided and hoped that she could make a difference. She wanted to make the classroom about more than a strict set of rules and and a place of judgment, and she planned to do so with the books she loved so dearly at her side. After she spent hours writing lesson plans, she often tossed them to the side the very next day. The woman quickly and somewhat harshly learned that life couldn't be completely planned down to the minute. In fact, the moment she thought she had life figured out, the world threw some very tough curveballs her way. With that earth-shattering realization, she realized teaching had to be just as flexible as her new lease on life. She did her best to be the best teacher she could be, but in a nation full of standardized testing, she came to accept and understand that there really was no way to know for certain if she made a difference.

While she taught, the woman realized that every awful stereotype of teenagers was so very wrong. In her free time, she dreamed of telling different stories. Eventually, she wrote her ideas down, but writing wasn't enough for her. She expected more out of herself and thought her messages deserved to be heard, so she fought, clawed, begged, chased, and searched for a publisher. Unfortunately, the woman found that she would probably have an easier time finding the proverbial needle in the haystack than she would in finding a publisher.

To be honest, she wanted to quit. She had never felt the sting of rejection before, and it was highly unpleasant. It was that week that a publisher offered her a contract that would put her first book, Holding On and Letting Go, on shelves in the summer of 2014. She had succeeded.

I can't end the story with a "she lived happily ever after" because my life, my story, is still being written. Will there be tough days to come? I'm certain. I'm equally certain that I will continue to dream bigger and strive to be the best I can be. I have this theory that your life actually begins to end the day that you stop dreaming. I'm not ready to let go of the carefree little girl who ran wild even if it meant some skinned knees and tears. I would rather run and fall 100 times than never experience the freedom of running. More than anything, I hope the little blonde girl, with pigtails and a bit of a rebellious side, stays with me for the rest of my life.

To be continued....

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