A Fond Memory Of Someone Who Hated My Guts

Sometimes we chick with someone but this time there were no clicks at all. My art teacher would have preferred I dry up and blow away, and I reacted in a predictable way. The other students would whisper, “If you like my picture PLEASE don’t say it out loud. I always get a C or D if you do!”
I learned to act not react. I bit my tongue and made no comments during class, but I was still stuck living with my anger.
Then I got a wild idea. I woke up at dawn and made bread and as class began I handed it to my art teacher steaming hot and oozing with aroma. The rest of the students were petrified with curiosity. The teacher stiffly took the bread and retired to his attached office, and there he stayed for quit a while.
I was in complete control of ME. I didn’t care what the teacher thought. He had became some what civil because I refrained from making comments. I delivered warm bread every time I got frustrated or angry. My method of self control was never commented on or discussed, that I heard of, by the other students, myself, or the teacher.
“Love your enemy,” didn’t so much apply as, “as you do yourself” did. I did it for me not him. I learned to live without anger during most of that course. I faced fear- it was an adventure- It took guts every time I delivered bread. I don’t know if the teacher hated my new guts more than those I started the class with but I have font memories of that adventure.

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