When I went to college, my double major, English and French, qualified me for one job, according to my guidance counselors: teaching.

But I didn’t want to teach. The education classes I took were populated with students I wouldn’t have wanted teaching my (hypothetical) kids! To be a good teacher, you have to have patience and meet kids where they are.

Still, I needed to work, and a family friend who was a school principal offered me a substitute teaching job. That’s what proved I wasn’t cut out to be a teacher.

Somewhere, a former snotty blonde may remember me as the B**** who told her that just because she was 18 didn’t make her an adult. Making good choices and taking responsibility for her life would be a good start.

She had told me that being 18 made her an adult and gave her the right to make her own choices about what to do. I remember telling her she had one thing right: It was her choice if she wanted to graduate. And reading Glamour and painting her fingernails in English class wasn’t the way to go about reaching that goal.

After that, I found my first job as a proofreader.

Thank you, Larry, for giving me a chance. You taught me to take a chance and do what I wanted to do, not what I was expected to do.