In the Bag

It's a seasonably cold Saturday night in my Midwestern hometown. I've got ELO's "Mr. Blue Sky" blasting from my computer's speakers, and it's an appropriate theme for this particular evening, as I have finished all of my obligations and papers--two 18-pagers--and, aside for one final class meeting on Monday night, can consider the first semester of my PhD program complete--in the bag. I still have 26 exams to grade by midweek, but teaching is a pleasure, not a chore, and I am feeling little pressure nor concern about my ability to complete this small task.

While I will detail my plans for the winter holidays in my next post (or perhaps in the one after that), I just finished watching a program that has me thinking about that which we can accomplish during our ride on this merry-go-round.

It seems inconsequential, given the seriousness of events occurring in world affairs, but I believe that there is nothing frivolous about setting lofty goals and working to the very best of your ability to achieve them. Tim Tebow, the quarterback of the University of Florida Gators, just won the Heisman Trophy, and with his parents, coaches, and mentors on hand for the occasion, likely lived a moment that had played across his mind's stage since he first threw a football in his backyard, or on the Pop Warner field, or at the playground. Here is a young man standing before the Gods of his occupation--past Heisman winners, Super Bowl champions, collegiate superstars, and fellow student athletes--who at age 20, his personal journey just beginning, has nonetheless reached the pinnacle of his craft, or at least the highest possible point reachable by somebody of his limited experience.

These are the reasons why we toil, fail, pick ourselves out of the dirt, grin in the face of impossibility, and soldier on into uncertainty--these moments when, for an instant, we can collect ourselves, gaze around us, and admire the path we've trodden. Greater obstacles may lie ahead, but it is in these instances when we can let down our guard for just a heartbeat and revel in the warmth of accomplishment.

As I have previously asserted, education is important to me, yet I was never somebody for whom academic achievement came naturally. While some are gifted with natural ability, I have needed to claw my way toward my personal goals, many of which are academic in nature, and difficult though the path has been, it has been rewarding and sweet and a route that I would never eschew for any amount of natural talent.

When I was 15 years old, a sophomore in high school, and just beginning to dream of college, I was required to meet with my guidance counselor to discuss plans for after graduation. One of my required tasks was to compile a list of around ten colleges that I could use as targets and as motivation for success over the course of my final two years. My list included a wide range of fairly distinguished schools--academic stretches, to be sure, but in my mind not impossible to obtain with a bit of finesse and drive.

So there I sat, in the library, with my parents and my guidance counselor, and she furrowed her brow as she silently read through my list of target institutions. When she was finished, she paused for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts, and then looked at me with a pity that has etched itself permanently into my mind's photo album.

"I admire your motivation," she began sympathetically, "but..."

Wait for it...

"You're just not the type of student who is usually competitive for these types of schools."

I don't remember exactly what my reaction was to her assertion, other than to feel a fire begin to burn so hot under my rump that, once I left that chair in that library, I don't recall glancing back once over the course of the next two years.

While I must leave the details of the quest for another post (I'm already beyond fashionably late for my cousin's holiday party), my final list of college applications--despite the early skepticism of my guidance counselor--looked strikingly like that first list of target schools, with a few "safeties" thrown in for the sake of prudence.

In the end, I didn't need them.

When I knocked on my counselor's door in the spring of my senior year, I had in hand acceptance letters from several of the schools to which I had been discouraged from applying. Four years--and another set of lessons learned and challenges accepted--later, I was admitted for my master's degree to one of the schools that had denied me as an undergrad.

Two years after that, I've completed my first semester of a PhD program, and as I was discussing with a similarly perseverant friend yesterday, it is gratifying to know that, despite the fact that more challenges lie ahead than behind, that fire still burns as white-hot as it did the day I was told that this path would not be possible.

It seems a cliche, but there is no truer notion than that which states that failure is simply the concrete that builds the foundation for success. Tim Tebow threw his share of interceptions, was passed by his share of college recruiters, waited patiently in the shadows of older, more experienced quarterbacks who may not have been as hungry or as patient as he. Now, he stands at the pinnacle of his chosen calling, celebrated today by those who questioned him yesterday.

We can all stand in that place--every single one of us. We all have wings, and even if some of us have more humble, tattered wings than others, they are functional nonetheless; they are ours, and they will serve us well if we allow ourselves to use them.

Until next time, smooth gliding...