Life Lessons - Ninth Grade

In geometry class as a freshman, I sat next to a junior named Doug Schreurs for roughly a semester.  Doug and I were never friends.  Our entire interaction consisted of short conversations that took place between the time we arrived at our seats and the time the bell rang to start class.  With the exception of two occasions, I can’t even tell you what we discussed.  

The first chat I recall involved Doug asking to borrow my notebook so he could copy my notes.  This was near the end of the first semester so the all-important cumulative final was forthcoming.  Doug had missed a few days recently and I don’t think his notes were all that detailed to begin with.  I always took copious notes and, as you might have guessed, was proud of my work.  Doug was a nice enough guy and he was perfectly willingly to talk to a lowly freshman, even a nerdy one like me.  So I lent him the notebook without thinking twice about the gesture. 

The second conversation that remains with me is when Doug returned the notebook to me.  Sounding entirely relieved and confident that my notes had put him on the right path to passing the exam, he thanked me and called me a “life saver”.  I’m not really sure why but his words made me feel good about myself.  Maybe the confirmation of my notebook’s utmost quality was just what my bloated ego needed to hear.  Maybe it was the good will I had accrued from truly helping a fellow student in need.  Looking back, I’ll never forget those exact words of gratitude.

Doug Schreurs was killed in a car accident less than a week later, prior to the semester final.  My good deed?  Doug’s hard work to catch up and prepare for the final?  All of it had been for naught.  Looking at that empty seat for the rest of the semester, I couldn’t fill the hollow space in my gut.  It didn’t make sense.  I’ve certainly had people much closer to me who have passed away, and my day-to-day life didn’t change going forward.  Still, it can’t be coincidence that this is one of the first memories that came to mind when considering a life lesson learned in ninth grade.

I’m not entirely sure what the takeaway is from this story, but here’s my feeble stab at it.  Everyone you come across in your life has a role to play, no matter how brief their stay is.  They are the vessel by which a message is being delivered.  Keep your eyes and mind open to absorb it. 

I’m reminded of Mitch Albom’s best-selling book “The Five People You Meet in Heaven” (a worthwhile read).  I’m not sure if there’s such a thing as heaven (I want there to be) and I don’t know if I’ll be lucky enough to be allowed in.  But there’s something comforting in the book’s concept.  We get a chance to re-learn the most important lessons in life from people who have impacted ours.  These people could be anybody, even somebody you’ve long since forgotten.  Maybe Doug is one of my five people, waiting there for me to help put all the pieces together.  In the meantime, I’ll try to live this life – the present – for all that it’s worth. 

"All endings are beginnings.  We just don't know it at the time."

Life Lessons - Eighth Grade

Note: I'm aware I skipped seventh grade.  I hope to go back to it when I have something to write about.

Back in the day, when my mind was a finely tuned machine, I was a pretty good speller.  You know, before beer.  I was a key player on the Peotone Jr. High spelling team.  In fact, I still have the t-shirt and sleep in it occasionally.  “Embrace your inner nerd”, it beckons to me.  In 7^th grade, I competed in a regional spelling contest and won.  Only the regional winner got to advance, but the top 3 in each sectional were permitted to compete at the state level.  I traveled to Peru (IL) for the sectional event and promptly placed 4^th. 

I asked my parents if we could stay to see the event through to its conclusion.  The sectional championship came down to two Asian twins.  These girls were good.  Real good.  Like the kind of wunderkinds you would see competing in the Scripps National Spelling Bee.  OK, I’m probably exaggerating; I’m sure they were no Rebecca Sealfon after all.  After what seemed like an eternity with neither girl showing signs of faltering, we all grew restless and ended up leaving before a winner was crowned.

I was disappointed by my finish, especially when I saw the boy who placed 3^rd get knocked out a couple short rounds after me.   I still had a sense of accomplishment though and there was no shame in losing to either of those twins in my mind.  Plus I was buoyed by the knowledge that I would be back next year to try it again.

 

Fast forward a year to the 8^th grade regional contest.  They give you a thick packet to study for these contests, which consists of potential words you can be given to spell.  I was reviewing words with my mom the morning of the event.  One of the words she gave me was “legislative”.  Ha!  What an easy word!  You see, we were studying the three branches of government in social studies at the time so I had seen it a bunch of times recently.  There was no chance I’d miss THAT word.  I went into the tournament brimming with confidence.  In my mind, I was as close to a sure bet to advance as it got.  I breezed through the first rounds with ease.  Little did I know that complacency and a lack a focus was weaving a web of doom in my brain. 

As fate would have it, I was given the word “legislative” to spell.  Remembering my flippant remark from earlier in the day, I allowed myself a chuckle and plowed through the word as I always did when I knew the answer.  “Legislative.  L-E-G-E” … Wait a minute.  Something feels wrong … “-I-S-L” … Yes, you did screw up.  Start over. … “-A-T-I” … For the love of god, mouth, stop speaking!  There’s still time to fix this!  ... “-V-E.  Legislative.” … You fool. You’ve ruined us.  As the moderator rejected my answer, I stood in disbelief.  I knew my spelling of the word was erroneous; I couldn’t comprehend what had just happened though.  The transportation between brain and mouth had broken down at the most inopportune time.  There was no other explanation.  It happens to the best of us, right? 

As the event progressed to its conclusion, I silently spelled the words along with the other contestants.  If memory serves, there was only one word which came up that I was unsure of.  Yeah, it’s conceivable I still might not have won even if things had played out differently.  However, you’ll never be able to convince me that I wasn’t the best option to represent our region going forward.  I was inconsolable for the next couple days.  I even let the waterworks flow when I got home.  Crying over a spelling bee?  Dude, you’ve GOT to be kidding me.  Hey, competitive spelling is a cruel mistress.  She can really get to you.  Just ask this kid. 

 

As the classic film Little Giants (one of my all-time favorites) taught us, the best doesn’t always win.  Even if I would have won that event 99 times out of 100, that still leaves one time.  It’s a fine line between confidence and hubris, and I was unable to straddle it.  In some respects, I might be able to trace the crippled confidence I now limp around with back to that critical day.  Nonetheless, it was an important learning experience.  No matter what the stage, you should always give your opponents the respect they deserve and never take anything for granted. 

Boy, I sure hope there aren’t any spelling errors in this entry.  Grammar on the other hand?  I’ll leave that to the English nerds to correct.

Life Lessons - Sixth Grade

If you’re good at something, it’s human nature to toot your own horn. Growing up, I was never the athlete I so desperately wanted to be.  However, I was blessed with a mind that could hold its own in the academic forums.  I think it would be unfair to label me a show-off, but it’s true that I sought to prove my abilities whenever I could.  The best way to do this was raise my hand and answer as many questions correctly as I could.  During class one day, I was on a particular roll.  After the umpteenth time I had delivered an answer, Jason Krohn casually turned around and asked me, “We both know you know this stuff.  Why don’t you just sit back and let the dumb kids try to answer?” Krohn was one of the few kids in our grade that I considered an intellectual superior, so his suggestion wasn’t taken lightly.  I can only speculate what his motive was.  Perhaps he felt some mutual respect for another “gifted program” kid and was trying to save me from some unnecessary effort.  Perhaps he got some pleasure from hearing what ridiculous incorrect response would be offered up by one of the aforementioned “dumb” kids and I was depriving him of that opportunity.  Or perhaps Krohn was just downright annoyed by my actions as much as others probably were.  Whatever the reason, I forced myself to recognize that Krohn was an individual perfectly capable of replicating my actions and yet he chose not to.  I ultimately decided to heed his advice, sit back, and enjoy the ride.  I still submitted the occasional correct response when I grew weary of a roadblock our class had hit or when I was feeling an extra strong case of withdrawal.  I just didn’t feel the need to advertise my academic prowess as much anymore, and that’s the takeaway here.  I try to keep these words of advice at the forefront of my thoughts:  Act like you’ve been there before.  If you act like you’ve been there before, then people will assume you have.  Whenever I do something that may seemingly give cause to celebrate, I try not to make a big deal out of it.  I’m not talking about just academics anymore.  For instance, I don’t get very animated on the bowling lanes after a strike.  A little fist shake if it’s a big shot in a big spot will do just fine.  Don’t get me wrong, I love acts like a crazy choreographed touchdown dance as much as the next the guy.  However, give me the quiet confidence that exudes from expecting something positive and then letting your play do all the talking.  I’ll cite Walter Payton and Barry Sanders as two examples.  They are two of the greatest running backs of all-time and both found the end zone on countless occasions.  Their celebration?  A simple flip of the ball to the referee.  How can you not respect that?  Once I stopped answering so many questions, it would have been very easy for my fellow classmates to assume I had lost a step, but I knew better.  I’d just let my grades do the talking, even if forming words would be difficult given the lack of consonants. As I’m coming to this entry’s conclusion, I’m realizing that there’s been an awful lot of bragging in a blog whose main objective is to denounce that sort of behavior.  Well, you’re certainly not going to rewrite this thing now.  Just take yourself down a few pegs so your message isn’t compromised.  With all due acknowledgement to Justin Halpern, it is I who sucks at girls.  Yep, my ineptitude is legendary.  Ah, the old standby. That’ll do.