A friend back home in New York state recently passed away, the first to go among our little inner circle of friends at the small high school we attended. It is at such times that you find yourself doing things like connecting with some of the friends who remain (we were active on the Emails sharing the news, something we often neglect to do), and dragging out the old yearbooks. During that process, I couldn’t help but bring in the book marking my year of graduation to show my coworkers. Something interesting happened during this introspection. As I showed my pictures, it prompted other people’s discussions of their own school years – including memories that followed them down through the days. When one talked of how she didn’t make the Honor Society because one student did so well in a specific class that the teacher set that person’s scores as the standard, even though her own abilities were extremely good in that subject, I also was prompted to recall an old, not so good memory about how I didn’t make it, even though I had the grades. The guidance counselor said “You don’t belong to enough clubs.” I was a wallflower in those days. I had to babysit for my little brothers. We didn’t live in town. So I lost out. The sports photos prompted another coworker to remember how girls had to stop dribbling after 3 in basketball, as part of the “stupid rules” they had back then for females, because we couldn’t possibly have enough stamina to dribble down the court. When we talked of college, another guidance counselor came to mind, the one who told me, “You shouldn’t count on going to college because you wouldn’t make it in a 4-year school. Maybe a vocational school.” The fact was, I had very good grades. He was making a judgment, based on I’m not sure what, my working class family status? I’m not sure. But I know back in those days I didn’t have enough, what’s the word? Chutzpah? To stand up for myself and do it anyway. And I had veterans’ benefits that could have applied toward an education since my biological father had passed away when I was nine. So I didn’t go to college until much later, and then it was a community college to study journalism. I did get to a university, though. I got married the same year I graduated and came to MSU with my husband. While talking with others while showing my yearbook around, however, it just reminded me that when we say something to other people, we should be very careful what we say and how we say it. Words really can scar – and scare people away from even their dreams – and what the world really needs is more encouraging words, especially when interacting with impressionable young people who may think that not making the grade can be the end of the world – until that world opens up as they bravely step out into it.