December 13, 2012

“I’m going to university,” she sneered.
“How about YOU?”
It hit me like a linebacker slamming his opponent…
I am not going…
not going to…
university.
See, I’m in level four and only level five students can go to university.
I feel low.
As low as a teen’s hip hop jeans.
I am low.
The lower of the low.
But that’s not about to stop me.
No.
I resist. I persist. I insist…I have bigger hopes. Just like that ant that moves the rubber tree plant.
I stride down to the counselor’s office into the first door I see.
“Below average,” she says. You will stay in level four.”
Oh no.
No no.
They can’t stop me.
I storm into the second door.
“Your grades are low. You’ll stay in level four and go to college.”
They shackle me with their words.
“You’ll learn a trade like nursing or hairdressing.”
Oh no.
No no.
They can’t chain me.
Hairdressing? Shampooing heads and permanents?
Nursing? Dressing heads and residents?
No, no, not for me.
I am going to university. I need more from life. Then doubt sets in. Maybe they’re right.
But I have bigger hopes. Just like that tiger that paces in the zoo.
Into door number three.
“I want to go to university.”
“Okay, we’ll see,” said Mr. Donahue. “We’ll see what you can do. But you’d better try.”
I promise I’ll try.
So he gave me a chance.
He believed in me.
And I went to university.
And won a scholarship in my Ph.D.
Thank you,
Mr. Donahue.