My daughter called me crying the morning of her graduation. Her mother had taken scissors to her cap and gown. All that was left was a pile of shredded fabric and a note that read: “You are not my daughter anymore. Failure.” She wanted to skip the ceremony completely, but I looked her dead in the eyes and told her, “Get dressed. I already know what we’re going to do.” And when they announced her as valedictorian later that night, the entire auditorium rose to its feet. The color drained from her mother’s face the instant she realized…
Part 2 Susan Albright did not ask me what I planned to do next, because the look on my face must have told her I …
