When I was in fifth grade, we had our first major research assignment. Each of us students had to pick one state (not our own) and do an in-depth study of it. The project spanned a couple of months, and at the end we had to turn in a written report–complete with a portfolio including maps, pictures, and other items of interest–and give an oral presentation about our state in front of the rest of the class. Like many girls that age, I was extremely horse-crazy and I especially loved watching Thoroughbred horse racing, so for me Kentucky was the obvious choice.

In this age of internet technology, such a project would not be the massive undertaking that it was for my ten-year-old self, but I imagine (rather pedantically, I know) that it wouldn’t be so rewarding, either. I remember how carefully I wrote out a letter to the Kentucky visitor’s bureau requesting information about their fine state, and I can recall clearly how painstakingly I drew a full-page map on a sheet of typing paper, using different colored felt-tip markers to designate rivers, major highways, and the capital city, Frankfurt. I remember, too, the little thrill I got when I discovered that Kentucky’s First Lady (back in 1983), was none other than a former Miss America, Phyllis George (don’t ask me why I thought that was special).

What stands out most in my mind about that project, however, was how I dreaded the oral presentation. It wasn’t that I feared public speaking; for some reason that’s always come fairly easily to me. It wasn’t that I wasn’t prepared to give the speech; I had notecards and visual aids and interesting bits of trivia aplenty. No, what I dreaded most was having to say, right out in the open, that one of Kentucky’s primary exports was bourbon. I literally lay awake nights anticipating the shocked reaction of my beloved teacher, Mrs. Jennings, when she heard me utter such an adult word. I was pained for weeks at the thought that she would no longer consider me her prize pupil after she had heard me casually drop the word “bourbon” in a class of fifth-graders. I even considered leaving that part out of my report.

In the end, accuracy in reporting won out over potential humiliation, and I dutifully listed bourbon among Kentucky’s other exports (none of which I can remember now). I even managed to keep my voice steady, I think, as I quickly shifted focus to an official photo of the lovely Ms. George.

My relief knew no bounds when that moment had passed.