When I was in grade nine (1983), our career guidance teacher asked us to share what careers we wanted to pursue. Everyone was excited and shared dreams of becoming a doctor, teacher, entrepreneur, etc. When it was my turn, I shared my dream of becoming a writer, the teacher laughed, followed by the rest of the class. I was shocked that a teacher would react like that. My teacher reminded me that we were living in apartheid, South Africa. He said Coloureds don’t become writers easily because the doors to publishing is shut for people of colour. He said I would make a good clerk or teacher. At that moment I knew I wanted to be a writer, and that nothing and nobody was going to assassinate my dream.
Walking home that day, I told myself that just because I’ve experienced resistance didn’t mean I had to give up. I knew I had something in me that was worth pursuing. Somehow I knew that the colour of my skin couldn’t keep me from reaching my dreams and aspirations. I think one of the best things about being a kid, is that there is no dream that’s too big. The journey thereafter wasn’t moonlight and roses; it was hard work. Today I am a published writer and freelance journalist. One of my stories about the #FeesMustFall protests was featured on CNN.
A few years ago, I bumped into one of my classmates who laughed along with the teacher. He told me that he enjoyed my newspaper column, and made sure he bought it every Friday. He then apologised for laughing at my dream that day. I told him that I’ve turned that laughter into inspiration that same day as I walked home. He smiled and shook my hand for almost a minute. He asked me if I had anything motivational to share with his child who was experiencing challenges with his learning at school. I told him to share my story with his son.
Today, his son is an executive manager for a large national company in Durban. Please share this with someone who’s experiencing challenges, or is in need of some motivation.
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