Candy Face

I don't know about you, but there's a lot of stuff I'd like to put on my resume that I can't. My husband feels just the same way. Once, not long after we'd married, we were visiting my best friend back in the States and her little boy introduced us to his friend. "This is Mary," he said, "she's my mom's friend. And this is her husband. He's wicked good fun."

To this day, he remembers that. He'd like it on his resume, just after Publications and Professional Presentations: I'm wicked good fun. References and testimonies available upon request.

There are a number of things I'd like on my resume. Once a friend of mine commented on my pot-washing skills. She claimed her pots were cleaner after I'd been at them. You know why? I wash not only the inside of pots, but the outside. It's just one of those things about me I can't change. I can't bear pots that are clean on the inside, but filthy on the outside. For years, it's irritated me that I can't note that down, somewhere between Education and Past Experience: When I wash pots, I get the outsides clean too. It has been noted and commented upon. References available upon request.

I'll tell you what else would go on my resume: I have a candy face.

I didn't know about my candy face until two weeks ago. I'd had a tough time in my Wednesday afternoon class; I'd had to yell at half a dozen kids who were yakking away in Turkish, only pretending to write compositions about their home towns. I'd had to bring up the embarrassing subject of their midterm results -- abysmal -- and my worries that they would not be ready for the finals. After class, I gathered up my papers and two girls approached my desk, smiling winsomely.

"Tee-cha, you are okay?" asked Melen.

"I'm fine," I said through clenched teeth. "I'm just a little worried about a few of you." I zipped up my pencil case. "I'm afraid some of you will have to repeat."

Esra sidled a little closer. "Tee-cha, you work hardly for us!" she whispered. "We like this!"

I looked up suspiciously. Their midterm results are done and dusted and they know damn well that nothing they say can change them.

Esra took my whiteboard eraser and began to erase the board. "Tee-cha, when on the weekend, we miss you! We miss your face!"

"Pffft!" I said, flushing. "You miss being yelled at!"

"No, tee-cha!" Esra insisted, still erasing. "You sometimes yelling, but you have sweet face!"

"Candy face!" chimed in Melen. "You have sweet face like candy!"

My hand went up surreptitiously, but no, not a trace of breakfast jam was stuck to my face.

And I cannot begin to tell you how genuinely honored I am. Never mind that I've had a good look at myself in the mirror and know The Real Truth, Melen says I've got a candy face. But where can I put that on my resume? Under Education? Qualifications? Past Work Experience?

Sometimes you just have to hide your lights under a bushel.