]I attended nine different schools in grades 1-12. My eighth-grade year was spent at Wahama High School which was a grades 7-12 school. It was a pretty good year for me. I was the leading scorer on the basketball team and won the Daughters of the American Revolution Citizenship’s Award but the thing I remember the most about that year was the hurt and humiliation of being called “The Clearasil Kid.”

Like many teenagers, I was having some problems with acne. Each morning I would get in front of the mirror and use tinted Clearasil to try to cover up and hopefully eliminate the blemishes on my face. Perhaps most of the kids always noticed it and were kind enough not to say anything but not so for one of my “critics.”

It was a nice spring day and a large group of us were outside during our lunch break. The bright sun felt so good on my face but apparently also revealed my poor attempt at hiding zits. “Here comes the Clearasil Kid!” yelled one of my classmates. My face started burning with embarrassment as the other students looked at me. I couldn’t think of anything to say in retaliation, so I turned and walked back into the school hoping that we would soon move again and I could get a fresh start somewhere else with a better complexion and a better nickname.

It may seem easier to run away from criticism and hurtful words or to “not get mad, just get even.” But I’ve discovered in my journey though life it takes courage to overcome our critics and the sting of discouraging words, gossip and slander. Remember the old western song “Home, home on the range where the deer and the antelope play. Where seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day?”