Learning a Lesson (Part 2)

**a continuation from Copping an Attitude (Part 1)**

Okay, so I'm a teacher currently on summer break—married to a fellow teacher also on summer break—with two kids who love to play and are usually up for anything. Yes, I realize this doesn't exactly support the whole “busy mom” persona (and generally we are super laid-back in the Smith home this time of year), but the conclusion to my license story occurs on a day when I at least felt like a completely busy mom.

It was a Tuesday. I had a long list of errands to run and Ava along for the ride. With a promise to eat lunch at the Pizza Hut buffet (her absolute favorite) if she was good, I felt pretty positive about our chances of having a productive morning. Perhaps there was a little uneasiness on my part, knowing I would have to stop at the license branch and admit my failure as an Indiana driver, but I was hoping I could smooth that over with a pretty license picture.

Or something.

Knowing how crowded our local license branch can be over lunch hour, I made sure to stop by early. Well, not too early, cause who would get up at the crack of dawn on summer break? But early for me. I didn't want too many witnesses to my admission of guilt about the whole six month expiration date, you know?

So we arrived. Ava with a doll and me with my figurative hat in my hand.

We took a number and sat down to wait. Miraculously, I was able to keep Ava entertained and before long our number was called. Boy, I was going to feel such relief having this entire matter behind me!

After explaining the situation to the woman behind the desk, she smiled warmly at me.

Woman: No problem, hun. This happens. It's just that—well—you're past six months, so I'm afraid you're going to have to take a written exam.

Me: What?!?

Woman: Sorry, hun, but that's the law. Let me just get you a copy.

Me: But I haven't taken a written test in almost fifteen years! I have no idea what information's on there! I could fail.

Embarrassment warred with that impending sense of failure. I consider myself a good driver. Only pulled over twice, remember, with no tickets either time. Practically a perfect record. But does being a good driver in practice guarantee a good score on the written exam?

Stop, I told myself, think like a teacher. It's summer break, but think for a minute! Even if you do fail, if you at least try, you'll have a better idea of what to study. So I talked myself into it. How bad could it be? Luckily the woman who enjoyed calling me hun produced a sheet of paper and some crayons for Ava. Thank goodness. Cause let's face it: her doll had already done its job of keeping her entertained. That time was up.

Blushing, I took my written exam and pencil and headed to the dreaded test-taking corner of the building. At least there weren't too many people there to stare and wonder. I put my back to the crowd so I could concentrate and got Ava started on some coloring. Then I previewed the test, as I often encourage my students to do, before beginning.

Whoa! Nearly 50 questions?!? Yikes!

I'm going to skip over this next part quickly, because it's painful for me. That test was a blur. I mean, how many average people know how long it takes a tractor trailer to stop when using hot breaks? (400 feet if anyone's curious). There were three triangular signs requiring identification. At least I was able to narrow it down to the correct choices (yield, no passing zone, and slow-moving vehicle), but my brain fizzled when I tried to figure out which was which. I know when I'm on the road! And it says it!!

Cloaked in failure, I stood and turned. And realized the entire license branch had filled up with people. I had now been here for an hour and a half, so it was nearing lunch time, and I had to take a new number and move to the back of the line. Great. More time passed. Ava and I practiced writing letters on the extra paper. Finally my number was called again.

Guess what? I failed. By ONE QUESTION. Not bad for someone who had no idea she would be tested, or what this test would consist of, but not the greatest result when about thirty people are curiously watching for my result. Remembering my uncomfortable conversation with that police officer several months earlier, I tried my best to stay positive. After being informed I'd failed, I politely requested a study guide. I took it with a fake smile plastered on my face and did the walk of shame through those thirty people. Witnesses, now, to my failure.

As we walked out, Ava patted my arm. It's ok, Mom, I still think you're smart.

For some reason, the image of that police officer flashed through my mind again. Yes, he had been rather snippy with me, but had I tried to return a positive attitude? Had I been humble and respectful myself? Suddenly, I wasn't too sure.

I sighed. I wanted to cry, because I so rarely experience failure (even on this small scale) and it wasn't a good feeling. But at the same time a part of me realized perhaps this was a lesson. Sometimes Miss High and Mighty needs to be taken down a peg or two. I felt like this was God's way of saying, “Remember, you're not perfect. You try to follow the rules, you want to obey the laws, but sometimes you may neglect to do it. You forget to check your break lights. You forget to check the expiration date on your license. Just because it's a more passive misbehavior doesn't make it right. You too are capable of mistakes.”

I sighed. It was time to learn my lesson.

So I took Ava to the Pizza Hut buffet. And we had a blast. Then I ran the rest of my errands, being SUPER CAREFUL not to break any traffic laws. I went home, got out my highlighters, and began to study for my next written exam. This time, I would ace it. I would make sure of it.

And you know what? I did. These words are being typed by an officially re-licensed Indiana driver. And while the license itself was the beacon of learning for me, I don't really think the lesson had anything to do with Indiana law. More to do, I think, with keeping an open mind, not being so doggedly determined that I am always perfect, and trying to realize that even when we try to do the right thing, it's not always possible. On the road of life, it's so important to stay positive in the driver's seat and not get too comfortable or—in my case—too smug.

Safe driving, everyone!