Fell on My Face

On the first day of seventh grade, I fell on my face. Teachers often debate about the efficacy of homework, a huge divide in the teaching community. I know where I stand. I’m against it. I fell on my face because of homework. I had too much! My backpack was crammed full of textbooks and pencils and binders and—bam!—I was faceside down on the sidewalk. Of all the times to fall directly on your face, the first day of seventh grade is probably the worst one. My pet theory is that children are meanest in seventh grade. (And, based on bullying research, I might be right.) Thankfully, not a lot of kids saw me. My dad had an early morning meeting and our carpool had gotten to school before most other kids arrived. A saving grace. But, I was still on my face. Paul, three grades above me but still in the carpool, pulled me up by my backpack. He told me I was “embarrassing” before I hobbled off to the school nurse, pride—and teeth—damaged. By the end of the day, though, the story was funny. I fell on my face. I fell on my face! Hilarious stuff.

I fell on my face. I fell on my face!

That’s my family’s greatest superpower and the lesson that has carried me through the many other similarly embarrassing events in my life. If you can make it funny, it doesn’t hurt so much. And if you can make it funny for yourself, you get a good story. You make other people laugh. Boom. You’re back on top. It’s served me well. We’re human. We’re all going to fall on our face from time to time. We might as well stick the landing with a smile.