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?