I have an axe to grind with my third-grade teacher.

TL;DR She told me my writing lacked pizzazz and I never got over it—so, I became a writer.

This piece of feedback was put on my desk in third grade.

I remember looking at it and reading my teacher's comments. Over and over.

"Uhhhhhhhhh, why'd she spell it that way?"

Kudos to my teacher for thinking I knew what pizzazz meant. At the time, I must've thought it was an alternative way to spell pizzas.

Looking back, I wholeheartedly agree with my young brain's interpretation of this particular feedback. If my writing doesn't exude the feeling of pizza, it needs more pizza. Because writing that is baked with the essence of fluffy bread, melty cheese, and tomato sauce works. Pizza brings joy, and if I write with more of it in mind, in heart, and in stomach, my clients will be happy and I'll be happy.

I came to realize my teacher was telling me that my writing wasn't brimming with vitality or excitement.

Regardless, thank you, third-grade teacher. Your rubric lives on as a perpetual vendetta to write nothing unless it is full of pizzas...pizzazz. Whatever.

p.s. If you're looking to hire me, I work super well with a slice or two on hand. Thanks 🍕.

Find my resume here.

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