I heard an interview once, one of the few times I was (accidentally) listening to a sports interview with Kurt Warner, an NFL player. The interviewer asked him this:
“How did you go from bagging groceries and stocking shelves at a grocery store, to a Superbowl winning quarterback, and future Hall of Famer?”
And Kurt’s answer? This: “All I needed was for someone to give me an opportunity.”
That kind of sums up my life.
About three years ago, I hit rock bottom. The Boyfriend and I had called it quits, officially, and since all of my other friends had boyfriends at the time (The Bozeman Curse…nobody there ever seems to be single…unless you’re a guy) and the group of friends I’d usually hung out with had chosen sides in the “Divorce,” I had no social life. I lived basically alone in my apartment as my roommate was so busy, and I was not. I had no one to be accountable to buy myself.
I stopped going to class, stopped talking to most of my friends, and even though most of my professors honestly tried to give me another chance, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.
I gave up on school, failed out of most of my classes, and tried to move on from the Boyfriend by attaching myself to random boys I met at the few parties I attended.
That summer, I accepted a position as a Night Auditor in a tiny Montana town. I mean tiny–as in a gas station. And a bar. (Of course).
Instead of making new friends like I had imagined, (I was on an opposite schedule from everyone else) I slept in my little cabin all day and read all night at my job.
The thing is, I didn’t feel unhappy.
I went back to school the next fall, but it was disappointing, as I was supposed to spend that year in Turkey, studying abroad, but that plan had been stymied by my poor grades.
So that Spring, on impulse or some other feeling, I signed up for Spanish classes in Peru and used up my savings on that semester.
While it was an incredible, difficult experience, I came back to find that…nothing had changed. There, I learned the hardest lesson of all–you can’t escape your mistakes, no matter how far you go. Maybe if I had never come back, but that really wasn’t an option in my broke-and-desperately-homesick state.
I came back and eventually continued my studies. None of my professors had any faith left in me, and my University let me back in because that is the rule. I took a full load of classes against much advice, determined to finish that year after watching most of my friends graduate that previous May.
It was a long, hard year full of books and studying, all in a blur. But, I did it. I guess what I needed most at that time was for so few people to believe in me. I guess I needed that so I could prove myself–so I could prove all the nay-sayers wrong.
An interesting life philosophy, I know.
When I F.I.N.A.L.L.Y. graduated, all I wanted to do was travel more, and write. So I traveled to Southeast Asia and began applying to creative writing schools.
During the application process, I began to realize graduate school might be a far-fetched idea, with my grades. I recieved many an denial letter that immediately dismissed me due to my G.P.A.
Yet, this year, I applied again.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment.
It did happen again–some programs immediately rejected me when they saw my G.P.A.
But all I needed–just like Mr. Warner in the quote above–was for one person to give me a chance, to give me an opportunity.
I guess this time, I really did need for a perfect stranger to believe in me.
That is one of the most important things I’ve learned this year: the value of chances.
Every single kid I work with might not have made it very far with the Colorado “I Have a Dream” Foundation. They still might not make it very far. But some will. Some will go so far they will be unrecognizable, except to people like me, who helped mentor them at at every step.
Sometimes, all we can do for these kids is give them one chance. And often, that’s all they need.
Sometimes it takes awhile to sink in, and sometimes it takes more than one chance.
But sometimes, all you need is one.