The Gold Star

The coveted gold star.
The sometimes elusive gold star.
Once upon a time, our teacher tested our mettle with a spelling test.  These tests were recorded in a small notebook distributed and subsequently collected after the test each Friday.
Sixteen words determined our reward.
We were given these words to memorise over seven days.
How I hungered for that 16/16 mark, excellent scribbled diagonally and the icing on the cake-a gold star stuck on with a piece of clear sticky tape.

Sometimes it didn't work out and instead of the praise I craved I got a banal v. good.  The worst travesty being the silver star glinting upon the page.  How I abhorred those scribed words.  It was much worse when I received a plain good.  Tricky words like 'buckle' cost me my star.  I see my students now make similar mistakes.
I have often thought of that pentadactyl celestial body glowing in the white space with rays of parallel blue to guide our education.  It was a simple thing but it exposed my competitive nature.  My desire for praise and my aspirations to be top of the class in any field I could.  Maths was never my forte so I compensated as best I could with other subjects.  English spelling was an area that I felt I could easily master.

I remember presenting that gold star with pride to my parents.  Sometimes my dad signed the page.  I am not sure why this irregularity occurred.  Sometimes I fancied a change I suppose.  I wanted to include him.  I rarely saw him write anything except his name.  It may have fascinated me to watch him write even that.  Or perhaps it was simply a time when my mother was in hospital having one of my siblings or maybe I just wanted some recognition from him too.  These spelling tests lasted a year.  When I changed class and teacher there were less colourful and aesthetic rewards.

I think I give rewards too freely.  While correcting copy books or exercise books, I have beside me my assortment of stamps and stickers congratulating kids for doing only what they are supposed to; the bare minimum and sometimes delivered in a messy fashion.  But maybe in this age of technology and destruction we have lowered the bar.  Or maybe it is right to recognise every effort.

I bought a small packet of gold stars during the week.  I couldn't walk by them.  They have a sticky back now-there is no need for tape to keep them pressed against the page.  

Nowadays there are fancy stickers of cars and monsters and all sorts.  A far cry from the simple gold star.
But I like it.
And I think of it fondly still.

I am a sentimental fool.

The stars, our hopes, dreams, ambitions and our wishes are wrapped up in these burning celestial bodies.  We often gaze and ponder what might have been and what might well be.  Do the stars on the page guide us like the faithful North Star that offers orientation and direction.
That little sticker possessed so much meaning; burning light, burning hope, burning courage and the reassurance that hard work does bring rewards, however, small.