Library of Compliments

CB: You’re ready and you’ll do great!

Me: Thanks to you! You’re a great teacher!

CB: Awww... Don’t say that. You’re going to make me cry. 

Me: It’s true and it needs to be said.

CB: No one’s ever said that to me before. Thanks. It means a lot.

We often get too caught up with our own affairs we have forgotten what a sincere compliment can do. I’m not talking about flattery or sweet words to curry favor from someone but genuine validation of a person’s character, personality, behavior, or skills.

The librarian, Miss B, from my elementary school will always be one of my favorite people. She was the first person (outside of my family) who encouraged me with her words, challenged me to step out of my comfort zone, and convinced me that I can do anything, be anything. To an adult, it’s cliche; but to 8-year-old me, her words were powerful.

I didn’t have any friends in the second grade because I didn’t like anyone in my class. Yes, I was a snob. [Still am, to a certain extent]. And the only friend I made in first grade left the country so I was left friendless. I didn’t mind, really, because I spent most of my free time in the library anyway. 

There was a school rule that books for older kids cannot be borrowed by students from the lower levels. But before the first quarter was done, I have read all of the books for my level and had started re-reading them because nothing else was available. Miss B must’ve seen my eyes linger on the 6th grader books with such longing because she sat on my favorite table one day and gave me a list of words. 

“Tell you what. If you can read these words and tell me their definitions, I’ll let you have the books that correspond to their grade levels,” she said. 

I was ecstatic! I don’t think she gave me hard words at all. I still believe that she did that on purpose. In hindsight, it was a great strategy. In one gesture she reinforced the message that rules are rules and they shouldn’t be broken; but she provided me with a loophole. Brilliant!

In the course of that year (and every year after that until I graduated), each time I paid her a visit, she had a book ready for me and prefaced it with a, “I think you’re ready for this.” But I was not ready for any of it. Or so I thought. 

“Miss B? What does (insert word) mean?”

“Check the dictionary,” she’d answer.

“Miss B? Where is (insert country)?”

“Did you check the map?”

“Miss B? What are rainbows made of?”

“Check the encyclopedia.”

Every book made me feel like I knew nothing. She saw to it that I worked hard for every piece of knowledge. But then, she rewarded my efforts with generous compliments and more books! How could I complain?

On my sixth grade graduation, I went inside her domain for the last time and thanked her for her patience, the lessons, and the friendship. To which she said, “Call me when you publish your first book. I’ll be the first in line.”

Yes, she taught me the value of a sincere compliment; not flattery or sweet words, but genuine validation of a person’s character, personality, behavior, or skill. And yes, she will always be one of my favorites.

(If only she were alive to read the first book I WILL publish. 😢)

"I don't know the words!" She exclaimed.
"Yet, my dear. You don't know the words, yet."