Hello again. Many of you have sent me a host of topics that you would like me to cover. And while I promise to cover those topics soon, today, I decided to take a slight detour. Recently, one of my supporters asked me an interesting question. In her attempt to gain a greater understanding of the source of my transparency, she asked, “Chris, do you ever write to yourself?” This was such a good question, I thought to answer it publicly with an emphatic “Yes.” And surprisingly, today is one of those days. As I write today’s blog, other than myself, I am truly not sure who it will help. However, at this point, it is serving as a vehicle for me to express a few personal emotions and thoughts that plague me. With that being said, I hope you enjoy this little glimpse of my thoughts and life.
As some of you may know, for the past year and a half, I have had the pleasure of providing various pearls of wisdom to students at the collegiate level. While, I admit, every day doesn’t result in banners and streamers falling from the ceiling in your honor, overall, it is quite an enjoyable experience when you can impact a student’s life for the better. And while it was a very difficult decision to make, today, that chapter in my life has come to an end. As I desire to continue to impact lives, I tearfully announced to my students that I would be moving on to pursue other opportunities.
While, we are all aware that our lives are composed of various seasons, it is always difficult to express, to those that you love, that your ride has come to an end. And although I have been pressed with this challenge during other periods of my life, this time did not prove to be any easier.
The night before I was expected to announce my resignation to individuals that had come to depend merely on my presence, my bed seemed to lose the comfortable feelings that had seemed so inviting during previous nights. I tossed and turned. I drank warm milk. I tried reading, watching television, and even listening to soft music. Every attempt that I made proved unsuccessful as sleep continued to avoid me. Yes, I was stressed. I was worrying. How was I to inform my students that I would no longer be there? How would they remember me? Better yet, would they remember me? What have I taught them? What legacy am I leaving?
Over the course of the 18 months that I had served as a mentor to some that had, before, lost hope, I have wanted to ensure that these individuals were equipped with the tools needed to be successful in any arena of their lives. Had I achieved my goal? And during my many hours of tossing and turning, it finally hit me. Borrowing a page from the book of Professor Randy Pausch of Carnagie Mellon University, I would give the students and my colleagues “My Last Lecture.” And while I haven’t been diagnosed with a terminal illness like that of Mr. Pausch, I still wanted to make sure that I left my students with a few nuggets that would carry them throughout the rest of their lives.
As the students walked in to what they expected to be any normal day in Mr. King’s Class, I felt my nervousness swell up in my throat. Without saying a word, my emotions almost overtook me. I almost burst into tears as I was completely aware of the discussions and feelings that would soon ensue. That morning, my students were scheduled for an exam that they had been in preparation for for more than a week. Gathering my composure, as each student walked in the door, I asked a simple question, “Are you prepared?” Looking at me with a confused look, each student provided me with what they thought to be their honest sentiments of my recently posed inquiry. Most said, “Yes.” Others said, “Somewhat.” While a few replied with a disappointing “No.” And with that I proceeded in giving them their first lesson of the day. Those students that stated that they were prepared instantly began with a grade of 80 on their test.
“Lesson Number One,” I bellowed in an authortative, yet comforting voice. “80 percent of the battle is showing up prepared. Those that are prepared, you start off with an 80. Those that aren’t; sorry, you begin with a 0.” At this point, I wanted to ensure that if they hadn’t learned anything from me over the past 18 months, I would leave them with something that they could always remember. Still confused at the nature of such a discussion and the unpredictability of the day’s remaining events, I witnessed the opening of their minds, as they hung on my every word. Attentive to every detail, my students were now listening to the beginning of “My Last Lecture” as I proceeded to give them the remaining nuggets that I wanted them to be aware of.
As I continued in my emotional rant on life, I began to list several more pearls that they could take throughout their lives. Below is a list of things that I left them with:
1) 80% of the battle is showing up prepared.
2) There’s no such thing as your lucky day. Your lucky day occurs when opportunity meets preparation.
3) You must believe that you are able, capable, and destined for greatness. Never sell yourself short.
4) Vision doesn’t mean to see, but to S.E.A. You must See yourself into greatness, Expect greatness, and Anticipate the greatness that which will or may occur.
5) Believe in yourself when no one else does. “Life’s battles don’t always go to the stronger or faster man. But, sooner or later, the man who wins is the man that thinks he can.”
6) Everyone is created with a purpose. The day that you begin to walk in your purpose, is the day that you begin your path to greatness.
7) “The measure of a man does not rest in the successes of his accomplishments, but in the courage that he displays while pressing through his trials.”
And after giving them these seven nuggets, I fought the tears that began to well up in my eyes, as I sorrowfully informed them that what they had witnessed was “My Last Lecture”. And to come to a close, I gave them the last answer of their earlier anticipated test, “Once you have arrived prepared, the remaining 20% lies in your active participation. For those of you that were prepared, congratulations, you have earned your 100%.”
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P.S. To my students, I will always love you and cherish the wonderful moments that we shared together. I have truly learned more from you than you have probably learned from me. And for that, I truly express my heartfelt thanks and love.