A, B, C, D

Contrast teaches us who we are. We most easily recognize our gifts—or our shortcomings—as we recognize how we stand apart from others.

I learned about my gift in a longstanding series of early morning, Mountain Dew-fueled arguments.

Derek and I loved to debate, about anything. We were bright high school kids, he two years older than me, and after we met, we each realized we had found a sparring partner. We’d argue about morality, politics, economics, whether or not that movie we just saw sucked. When we really got going, our friends would sit back and spectate; it was apparently something to see. We’d agree on the big things. If anyone else challenged one of us, Derek and I would meet on our common ground long enough to claim the field as ours, and then we’d retrench and relitigate the minutiae of our disagreement. But for all our accord and shared love of debate, our brains worked differently.

Derek has the quickest mind I’ve ever had the pleasure of observing. In comparison, I am a more deliberate thinker. I explained it to people this way—

Virtually all individuals, it seemed to me, could trace a path of thought from A to B, and a lot could then proceed from B to C. Some could then make the final step to D all alone, some more could see D with assistance, and others would never be able to reach that final conclusion. I was generally able to move along the steps efficiently, A to B to C to D. But Derek was special: he didn’t need all the steps. Show Derek point A, and with barely a moment’s thought, he would fully understand point D.

My comparatively slower mind did have one advantage over Derek’s, though. He could have difficulty explaining his conclusions. With a touch of think time, I could do more than move from A to B to C to D. I could explain all the steps to others. I could find the right words, comparisons, examples, parallels, or whatever else I needed to guide another along the path. I could help people learn.

Derek got a job with the Department of Defense. I got a job as a teacher.

The English teacher who secretly dreams of quitting his job to write bestsellers is a cliché. It is also not me. I love writing and I work at it, but my true gift is for teaching.