MEDIOCRE!

I started to write a self profile for Technical Writing, and this is what happened, as it usually does (I just might have to rework it a little):

If there's one thing I've been noticing about the story of my life so far, it's that people don't expect much of me.

Picture it: Mrs. Lewin's preschool class, 1990

Parts were being given out for the annual nativity play. Mrs. Lewin called out students' names along with their designated roles. "Kimberly, you will be the star. Aaron, you will be a wise man..." Finally, she got to the most crucial role. "Anna, you will be Mary."

Immediately, I panicked. As much as I loved attention, I couldn't be Mary! Mary has a million lines to memorize! I couldn't do that; there's no way I could memorize everything Mary has to say - she's like the main character! I started bawling in the middle of class until Mrs. Lewin called me up to the front. Slowly, I stepped over the other children sitting Indian style on the floor (it's called criss-cross now, but remember, this was 1990) and made my way to her chair.
I told my teacher that I didn't want to be Mary, and upon my suggestion, she conceded to letting me be a sheep.
"What will your costume be?"
"I don't know, maybe you could make me a paper sheep head?"
That's exactly what she did, too.

The day of the play arrived, and Kelly made a lovely Mary, who incidentally, had absolutely no lines. No one did. It was a preschool play. No one makes preschoolers memorize lines! Meanwhile, I munched happily away on some grass in a nearby pasture, paper head in place.
Mrs. Lewin narrated, and the play was off. "Some shepherds came to visit the stable..." The shepherds, however, stayed in place. Yep, the newborn king wasn't gonna get any visitors this year, because the shepherds were clearly clueless. This was a job for a paper sheep.
"Baa," I cried, and made my way to the stable, guided by the light of Kimberly the star. "Baaa," and the shepherds followed. My plan was working. The play was saved! And of course, I was the only one who had any lines.

Parents congratulated me at the end and told me what a wonderful job I had done. Seriously guys, it's not that big of a deal. All I did was act like a sheep. It's not that hard.

Flash forward a year to kindergarten:

On the first day, I expected to have to find all my classes myself, as if it was a high school. Then I realized no one expected me to do that. We stood in a line, and they led us into our room.
One time, Mrs. Eltermann told us we could get a prize if we wrote five stories. I spent days working on different stories.

1. One was about some fruits and vegetables that were hungry but didn't want to eat each other...in the end, they decided to go out to a restaurant together.
   
2. Another was about some turkeys that were afraid when the farmer came outside with an axe. (Turns out he was only chopping wood - crazy farmer!)
   
3. One was a bit of a thriller where these bugs were playing in the woods, then they heard this eerie tapping noise...after hanging on the edges of their seats, the readers discover that it was only the bugs' parents coming through the woods to invite them home for warm buggy stew! This story also included a poem at the beginning: "Bugs are big/ Bugs are small/ Bugs are short/ Bugs are tall"
4. One story recounted the mixed-up antics of Amelia Bedelia as she attempted to make a cake.
5. The last described the imaginary time that I got a pet pug and let him sleep with me.

I typed all my stories up on the Commodore 64, illustrated them, and taped them into a spiral notebook to create a kind of anthology. I came into class and heard Allen reading his stories...two of them were "Once my brother cried," and "Once I crossed the street." I was a little upset. I thought we were supposed to be writing stories, not sentences. Buuut, I guess I was wrong.

This trend has continued until today. In every job I've ever had, my employer has more or less said to me, "I really didn't know if you could handle it at first, but you have proved me wrong." Whenever someone compliments me about how I'm doing a good job, I always get the feeling of, Uuum...aren't I expected to do my job? Cause that's pretty much all I'm doing. I only hope this trend continues in student teaching, because that would be pretty sweet. If people continue to only expect mediocrity from me, then I am well-prepared. Chances are, I will exceed those expectations.

So there you have it. If I can just figure out how to channel my obsession for babbling about my childhood into concise and meaningful anecdotes that illustrate some type of quality about me (not being mediocre?), I think I can be a little more interesting than "Please hire me; I'm a hard worker." Feedback?