Every fall, my husband Mike and I sit outside with our morning coffee and watch the neighborhood kids sprint down the street to catch the school bus. Each year, I consider writing this story and then lament the thought of digging up old regrets. Away from home as a college freshman, I messed up academically. It took the following three years to undo the damage to my GPA (grade point average). So when I went to grad school, I resolved with unwavering determination to get a 4.0. There were a variety of activities to explore on and off campus, and I witnessed other grad students managing a healthy balance between studying and pursuing new interests. Being of average intelligence, I studied constantly in order to achieve my goal. With blinders on, I “chased the A.” When I graduated, I had my transcript. Don’t get me wrong. Grades are important. I …