To my professors at Sterling College,

I’ve always been a perfectionistic and a people pleaser. I wanted to be a good kid. I wanted everyone to like me, especially authority figures. For a person my age, those figures are made up mostly of teachers. The way they looked at me affected how I looked at myself.

I learned to see two groups of authority figures. In group number one were the authority figures who liked me because I never made any major screw-ups in front of them. Then, there were the ones that, in my mind, didn’t like me because I had made a major screw-up in front of them. I thought these guys were more likely to punish me, lecture me, or get mad at me. I avoided them as much as I could.

The less contact I made with them, the less likely I was to screw something up in front of them to make them think less of me. I hated even being in the same room or hallway with them. Anytime they got upset with another student, I would tense up because I thought they might be mad at me next.

In high school, I worked hard for good grades, and I stressed myself out way too much. I remember checking over every math problem twice and crying during science tests. I was known in my high school as the girl who freaked out over schoolwork.

Then, I hit a couple "rough spots" in my life. Because of those rough spots, it got harder for me to be on time to class and finish my homework.

I beat myself up because I knew I could do better. I’d come talk to you and say I hadn't finished the project that was due...again...fully expecting you to sit me down and give me a lecture that, to me, would spell out four painful words: you're not good enough.

You wouldn't do that, though. You’d tell me that my grade would be docked, but I could still turn in the project later. That's it—no scolding, no disappointed looks, nothing.

I expected you to tell me about "what motivation and hard work really are." I expected you to get at least a little upset, but you didn’t. It didn't make any sense to me. When you showed me that grace, I didn’t know how to take it.

I knew I didn’t deserve it. I was always telling myself, “I know I can do better than this.” Part of me wishes you would scold me. If you would, then maybe I’d get my act together and try harder. Well...actually, I would have cried. Then after that, I might have gotten my act together.

Maybe that’s not what I need, though. Maybe I need to chill out a little bit. Maybe the way you show me grace is the way God shows it to me too. By you giving me grace, I can learn to give it to myself.

Thank you, and God bless you.

Lindy