Miss Whittingham was a ‘60s’ prophet.  A conveyer of wisdom and passion that even an 8 year old couldn’t miss.  She was my teacher.  Yet I feared our love wasn’t mutual. 

In my final school report, she wrote, “she can do it but sometimes doubts herself; needs to stop asking so much.” 

For years I was puzzled.  And then one day I knew.  I could do it.  Even though checking to ask was occasionally still my comfort blanket.  

Miss Whittingham was right. 

But does it hurt to ask a good question?