It was the first day of 6th grade. First period. Young Tommy strutted into Mrs. Wilson's "Language Arts" class.

Mrs. Wilson told the class, "Your assignment for tomorrow is this: I want you to write what's called an 'autobiography.' It's due tomorrow. I want you to write all of your hopes and dreams and aspirations for the future."

If he wasn't already happy enough about getting to see his friends again and to start playing ball at recess and after school, Tommy now had a great reason to be excited for the year ahead.

"Wow, I get to write a real autobiography," Tommy thought to himself. "What an opportunity!"

He daydreamed about his assignment all day during his other classes. Then when he went home, he worked on his project all night.

When he finished, Tommy read it to his parents. His mother and father were so proud of Tommy.

"That's the best thing you've ever written!" said Tommy's mom.

When he got to class in the morning, the first thing Tommy did was to place his paper in the wire metal tray on Mrs. Wilson's desk. He was grinning from ear to ear.

The next morning, Mrs. Wilson handed the students back their papers. When Tommy got his back, it had a big red "F" on the front of it with a circle around it. The note said,

"See me after class."

After the class bell rang, Tommy went up to the teacher's desk.

Mrs. Wilson said, "Oh, hi, Tommy."

"Ma'am," replied Tommy.

"So, you wrote that you wanted to be the quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers, and you wanted to marry a supermodel, and that you wanted to become a multi-millionaire businessman."

"Yes, that's right," said Tommy. "Those are my hopes, my dreams, and my aspirations for the future."

Mrs. Wilson said, "You know, that was a really good autobiography you wrote."

"Well," Tommy asked, "Why did you give me an F?"

"It has to do with the writing," said Mrs. Wilson. "I think it is my responsibility. Why don't you go home tonight—take a look in the mirror."

"Huh?"

"Son, you don't have the body to be an NFL quarterback. You are not handsome enough to attract a supermodel and you're not smart enough to become a multi-millionaire businessman."

Tommy stood there. Shattered.

"But you write pretty well," said Mrs. Wilson. "If you lower your hopes, dreams, and aspirations for the future, I'll give you a higher grade. Easy-peazy, lemon-squeezy…"

With that, Mrs. Wilson gave Tommy his paper back. Tommy had some homework to do.

So that night, Tommy sat down in front of his computer. But he stared at it. And thought. And pondered…

After a couple hours of intense internal debate, Tommy decided he wouldn't change a word.

He went ahead and printed out the same paper that he turned in before but without the teacher's red markings.

The following morning, Tommy handed the paper directly to Mrs. Wilson. She glanced over it and said, "Tommy, you didn't understand. You were supposed to lower your hopes, dreams, and aspirations for the future."

Tommy looked at her right in the eye and said, "Oh?"

"Yes, son. Didn't you understand what I told you?"

"No, no, no… I understood you perfectly," said young Tommy.

"Okay  … then, I don't get it," said the teacher.

"Mrs. Wilson, here's what I decided…"

The teacher was puzzled. No 6th-grader had ever talked to her like this.

"You can keep your F, because I want to keep my dreams."

As always,

Brian

P.S. — Dream-killers, like Mrs. Wilson, used to be a huge part of my life. But now, like young Tommy, I keep my dreams alive instead.

I want you to keep your own dreams, too. Let us help: