The Shadow of Failure

My formal education began in that one-room schoolhouse, just a stones throw of Grandma’s house in Cavendish, where a single teacher, Mrs. Woody, managed all seven grades simultaneously. I was the only student in the first grade. By the second grade, my class size doubled to two, but only because Freddy Causner fell from a swing, broke both his arms, and had to be held back a year.

Cavendish Elementary Church – Closed for many years

Yet, even in a class of two, I was at the bottom. The simple act of reading felt impossible. The symbols were hostile; they danced and fractured under my gaze, refusing to settle into coherent meaning. The conclusion, whispered by my own desperate heart, seemed inescapable: I was dumb, simple, slow, or all of the above. The anxiety of opening a book was a physical weight in my chest.