“Questions?”

While in first grade in Ellensburg, Washington, I always felt a bit off-center, like I was on the right stage, just reading from the wrong script. Not my script.

In our tiny school, Show and Tell was a big deal. The format was sacred: show your object, talk about it, and end with a confident “Questions?” That was the cue for applause. Or at least polite silence, but, also, maybe a question raised by the same kid. Every. Time.

Then it was my turn to be on stage. I loved the stage. I came prepared. In my hands: a cow skull. A real one. Bleached, heavy, slightly intimidating. I wanted to spice things up a bit. So when the teacher called me up, I skipped the whole show part and went straight to it; I yelled, “QUESTIONS?”  

Then a correction. Stern. Immediate. It was the 70s, after all. A time when creative expression was fine, as long as it colored within the lines of elementary pedagogy.

And here’s the part I still carry with me; not shame about making the choice, but the ache of not being supported for trying something new. I wasn’t disruptive. I was just... a little different. A few steps out of sync.

Honestly, not much has changed.

So here’s to the weird kids. The ones who break the format. The ones with cow skulls and curiosity. May we always keep asking “Questions?” Even if it’s too early.

—Erik C