Dear journal,
When I first started collecting alabaster apples, I thought it was simply about the beauty of the pieces—the way the light dances on their polished surfaces and the quiet elegance they bring to my desk. But yesterday, when the golden apple arrived, it became something more than just a beautiful object. It unexpectedly triggered a flood of memories, especially of being nominated for the Golden Apple—Joplin Area Chamber of Commerce's Teacher of the Year award—three times and becoming a finalist once. I remember how much I wanted to win, not just for the recognition but for the sense of validation it would bring. For years, that desire felt like a quiet but constant weight.
Seeing this golden apple sitting here, though, I realize how much I’ve grown since then. There was a time when not winning felt like a deeply personal rejection, much like the sting of applying for administrative positions and being passed over. It felt as though I wasn’t good enough, as though my worth was tied to how others assessed my abilities. I can see now how misguided that perspective was. Awards and promotions aren’t definitive measures of our value. They’re often about timing, politics, and other external factors. Recognizing this doesn’t erase the sting of disappointment, but it reframes those moments, helping me see that my self-worth isn’t tied to titles or accolades.
This golden apple feels symbolic now—not of the recognition I once craved but of the clarity I’ve gained. It represents a turning point in my life, a quiet but important realization that my value doesn’t come from external validation. I’ve grown up in ways I wasn’t even aware of until this moment. I no longer need an award to feel worthy or successful. The relationships I’ve built with my students, the lessons I’ve taught, and the small moments of connection and understanding I see in their eyes—these are my true rewards. They aren’t flashy, and they don’t come with trophies or ceremonies, but they are infinitely more meaningful.
And yet, I also recognize that this journey hasn’t been straightforward. Letting go of the desire for validation hasn’t been as simple as flipping a switch. There are still moments when I feel those old pangs of inadequacy, especially when I see others celebrated for their achievements. I’ve learned, though, to celebrate those moments for what they are—a chance to reflect, to acknowledge others’ successes without making them about me. I’ve been fortunate enough to see several of my friends win the Golden Apple, and I’ve been genuinely proud of them. Their successes don’t diminish mine, and that’s a lesson it’s taken me a long time to internalize.
These apples now sit on my desk, not as trophies or validations of my worth, but as reminders of growth. Growth isn’t always flashy or award-winning. Sometimes, it’s quiet and deeply personal, like the glow of a golden apple sitting on your desk, reminding you of who you’ve become. In their simplicity and beauty, they remind me that I don’t need to be an award-winning teacher or administrator to be enough. I already am.
Always,
Dave
