Fifth Grade Angst

My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Johnson, gave us a strange assignment that I still feel a little bitter about. I mean, it was hard. Every single day we had to write a story that was at least 100 words. She called it the "Daily 100." If we missed a day, the next day it was 200 words, plus another 100 words thrown in for penalty. At first it was fine...100 words isn't so much, right? But it didn't take long to get really freaking old. We would have to get into groups and read each other's stories and critique them.

I despised this assignment. I was getting desperate to make 100 words and just started writing any old pile of crap that came to mind. I remember once writing a story about a blob of ketchup that asked a lot of questions. Somebody wrote "Stupid" at the top of the paper. I didn't even care. Mrs. Johnson was the devil.

The worst part, I mean the WORST part of this was the Mrs. Johnson was head-over-heals in love with ANYTHING that I wrote. It was insane. I will never, as long as I live, forget her cackling laugh as she read my stories at her desk. I will never forget her saying "Three stars, for sure! Jade is so creative!" and stapling my stories on the wall so the whole class could read them. I will never forget how I hated seeing them up there, with her three loopy stars at the top. I remember feeling a sort of resentment from the other kids. I secretly vowed to never write again. I really did.

I have always wondered if I became a writer in spite of that assignment, or because of it?

How many licks does it take to get to the center of the Tootsie Pop?

If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?