When I was in sixth grade, I started to understand and feel the power of hard work. Since probably second grade I had been hearing about the concept of working hard, making that extra effort, etc. I have to admit – I didn’t really buy into it. I wasn’t lazy. In fact, I was a pretty good kid. However, putting in those extra hours or turning down opportunities for immediate pleasure wasn’t part of my week-to-week behavior. I just did what I was supposed to do – no more, no less.
What happened in sixth grade? Did I have a hurdle? Was the introduction to pre-algebra the killer? How about sports – did I get overwhelmed by those awkwardly large kids that hit puberty before the rest of us? No, I didn’t climb one of life’s mountains. No, nothing challenging happened. A teacher happened. A teacher that showed me special attention happened. A teacher that knew I could do better happened.
Gerald Young was my teacher in sixth grade. Mr. Young went out of his way to make me feel as though he was talking to me – not 30 kids – but me. Even though I was a very good student, he made me believe that I could be even better and that I had to be my best. Two quick stories…
- I made a smart ass remark one day during a class discussion. I don’t remember what I said, but Mr. Young looked at me and just paused. He said nothing and he said everything at the same time. That afternoon, he asked me to stick around a few minutes. After all the kids took off, he simply said to me: “You’re better than that.” Wow. Those words were tattooed to my spirit and run through my head every single day. Seriously, I arrived home about midnight from Grand Rapids last night, and waking up before 5:00 this morning wasn’t much fun. As I lay there, those words got me out of bed – “you’re better than that”. Even though he passed years ago, he continues to hold me to a higher standard. My life is better and much more enjoyable because of it.
- My little league baseball team was 19-1 and won the South Merritt Island Little League championship that year. The one loss we had was to the Reds. With two outs in the last inning, down by one run and runners on second and third, Ricky Taylor struck me out to end the game. It was one of the lowest points of my life. I know that’s ridiculous, but at the time it was everything to me.
When I arrived at school the next morning, our loss was all the talk. As I entered our classroom, Mr. Young greeted me with: “… and the mighty Casey has struck out.” He didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. He was trying to make light of the issue. However, he knew from the look I gave him that I wasn’t in a light mood. On the way to lunch that day, Mr. Young pulled me aside and said: “Chris, I’m sorry I said that this morning. You’ll bounce back. If anyone can bounce back, it’s you.”
Seriously, did my teacher just apologize to me? I still felt bad, but his real nature made all of his other comments more sincere to me. He wasn’t just reading from a school teacher playbook – he was real.
There are dozens of other stories, but these two capture his iron fist and velvet glove perfectly.
The point of this post is to illustrate how important it can be to show a little extra attention to someone. This happened when I was 11, but your 54 year-old boss or 27 year-old barista could use that little extra personal attention much more than a kid. Think about it – kids are getting special attention and instruction every day. Adults fall into this rut of expectations without development or encouragement. That’s not how we were built. We need that little kick in the butt or pat on the back, and we need it sincerely and frequently.
Who have you impacted this week? Who will you impact today? You never know – it might make a difference for the next 30-plus years to someone.
