Many years ago, I was going through a stack of childhood papers, and came across my first report cards. Year by year, the teachers informed my parents that I was having trouble with certain tasks and settling down, but the most telling comment was “Kihm is not working up to his apparent ability.”

These words have played through my life like a recurring theme in a symphony. A slacker from kindergarten on, coasting on my abilities rather than applying them. I heard it every year throughout my academic career. If I was interested, I got an A. If I was bored, I got a C.

When I was in the Air Force, studying Serbo-Croatian at the Defense Language Institute, I was called in to see the head of the department, Dragoslav Georgevich. In his rich Slavic accent, he said, “I look at your papers; you are a smart boy. But you are not working to your apparent ability.” He was upset by my laughter, until I told him that his exact words had been written on my first-grade report card, and that he was in good company.

I heard it again in grad school, when I was really slacking off, trying to live my share of the Sixties in 1974. Roger Greer said, “I’m not giving you an A because you’ve done A work; I’m giving you an A because you’re an A student.”

Then there was an employer or two in advertising. And a writer who told me to stop writing letters and instead write the Great American Comic Novel. If only I would do this or work harder or do that, I would live up to my potential.

You could put together a pretty decent choir from the people who have voiced that thought. I can see them now in robes, in varying heights and ages, but all singing the same song. 

I am taking their advice into consideration.