As a kid, I was told by several teachers that I seemed to always have my head in the clouds. “A bit of a dreamer” they’d say. I guess it was supposed to be constructive criticism.
If it was, I’m not entirely sure I took it the way they intended. Perhaps it was simply an observation. Put in black and white on several school reports, and accompanied by a “must try harder” the teachers’ scornful words were meant to be interpreted as a telling-off for not working hard enough - a means of communicating their observation to my parents. Like my parents didn’t already know that about me. The words “head in the clouds’ and “a bit of a dreamer” became a running theme.
In writing, it became, to me, less about the teacher’s observation or opinion and more like a slur on my character. In an official document - kept for perpetuity in a box in my parent’s loft to be brought out on future occasions - probably for me to be ridiculed or as some ‘aha’ moment accompanied by a disapproving shake of the head.
Yes, it probably brought me down a peg or two and nudged me into being a more conventional and compliant child. Well done to them. I hope it achieved (for those teachers) whatever it was they thought young Robbie needed in terms of correction. None of those teachers are probably sitting in their rocking chairs today (if they’re even still alive) thinking to themselves, “aahhh… Roberta Laing, from the class of ‘77. I remember her well. She was the one with her head in the clouds. Thank goodness she had me as her teacher, I made a real difference to that one.”
Mrs Peace, 1977. I doubt she’d remember me amongst all the kids she taught throughout her long career. But I definitely remember her. She wrote a school report I couldn’t forget. It kind of wounded me. Gave me the proverbial chip on the shoulder that only another sensitive individual will identify with.
If I’m honest, on reflection, I think that report caused me to develop a rebellious streak because I kept on dreaming anyway. It certainly didn’t stop me from gazing out of classroom windows at clouds after that.
I bet it wasn’t the goal of my most staid and strict teacher to create in me a rebellious dreamer. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t turn into a crazy, biker-jacketed rebel who stayed out all night and never told her parents where she was, I simply became rebellious in an introverted way - I kept dreaming on the quiet. It didn’t make sense to me to be any other way. Once a dreamer, always a dreamer. And always misunderstood.
A few years later, I believed John Lennon got me, even though he never knew me.
As my mum says: “it’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch”.
WONDERING
Now I’m an adult, and a mother, the importance of being a dreamer has blessed me with an ability to see and appreciate life in more wonderful ways. Life’s more magical. I can appreciate the wonder in most art forms. I have a high EQ. There are definitely people in the world who don’t share my perspective. I feel a bit sorry for them.
The lyric in a song doesn’t touch them as deeply. They walk quickly through art galleries thinking everything’s boring and never stop and stare into a painting and try and see the world from the artist’s perspective. They look up at clouds and talk about the fact it might rain or even thunder later.
“now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone. So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way”.
Joni Mitchell, Both Sides Now
We always have a choice. If you’ve ever flown by plane and sat in a window seat, looking out and down at the clouds you must have wondered if there are people down on earth below the cloudline, having a bad day and feeling unhappy about being rained on. When it comes to perspective, we always have a choice.
Changing your perspective can be freeing and
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