The Size of Your Dreams, - [good books for high schoolers txt] 📗
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I swallowed hard. “But I don’t like who I am now.”
“That’s because you’ve put other people in the driver’s seat.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“If you passed a drunk bum on the street and he called you dumb, how would you feel?”
“I wouldn’t feel much of anything. I’d ignore him.”
“You’re going to MIT, correct?”
“Yeah, I got in early.”
“Now, what if the dean of MIT called you dumb?”
My chest constricted. “That would suck.”
“Why wouldn’t you blow him off like you did the bum?”
“Cause the bum is…a bum. The dean of MIT deals with the smartest people in the world.”
“But who decides that one is worth listening to and the other isn’t?”
“Me, I guess.”
“So who is making you feel bad?”
“The dean is.”
“Not so fast now, you could have ignored the dean as you ignored the bum. Instead, you took the dean’s words and beat yourself with them.”
Something clicked. “When people teased Darnell in the past, it made him feel horrible. Now he’s using their words to motivate him to exercise and eat better.”
“You’ve got it!” Mr. Griffin pointed his pen at me. “Their words can’t hurt Darnell. Only he has the power to do that.”
“So only I have the power to like myself?”
“Exactly. Let’s say Darnell asks you to hang out. How do you feel?”
“Okay, I guess. Nothing special.”
“And who’s the most popular kid in school?”
“Derek Andrews.”
“If he invited you over, how would you feel?”
“Really good.”
“Why?”
“Cause it would mean he’s accepting me, that he thinks I’m cool.”
Mr. Griffin leaned further back. “And what would that mean about you?”
“That I’m all right.”
“And who decides that?”
“Right…I do.” I rubbed my forehead. “So it’s not the school’s opinion that counts, it’s mine?”
“Precisely. The Identity Card will help you shape your opinions of yourself and heed those opinions. It’s based on what you think is important and what you value.” Mr. Griffin pulled out a notecard. “Give me one trait you want to build in yourself.”
“Popularity,” I said, cringing.
“That’s not a trait in you, it’s in other people. What do you want to develop in yourself?”
“I dunno. I just don’t want to be a loser anymore.”
“Well, what traits do you admire in other people? Take Derek. What do you admire about him?”
“That he’s popular. And all the girls think he’s hot.”
“Those are not traits in him, they’re just the opinions of others. What quality of Derek’s do you appreciate?”
“Oh.” I pinched my lips. “Nothing really. He’s a jerk.”
“Can you think of someone who has qualities you do admire?”
“The director of my hacker camp, Jimmy.”
Mr. Griffin smiled for the first time that afternoon. “What about him?”
“He’s generous with his time. Last month, he spent an hour on the phone with me, helping me on a huge assignment for AP Computer Science. And he seemed happy to do it.”
“Beautiful. That will be the first trait on your card. Write down, “I am generous.’”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” Mr. Griffin poked his finger into my chest. “If you’re admiring the quality in another, it’s because that quality lives in you. And haven’t you been generous with your Mastermind Group?”
“A bit. But what about all of those ulterior motives you mentioned when I helped the others?”
“Don’t set the bar so high that you’ll never be able to climb over it. You don’t have to have 100% pure motives for your actions to be generous. Go ahead, write down, ‘I am generous.’ What else do you admire about Jimmy?”
“He’s caring. He checks up on me during the year, even though it’s totally not his job.”
“Great. Write down, ‘I am caring.’” Mr. Griffin tapped on the card. “And don’t be so hesitant. No one who doesn’t care about others would ever come up with that goal. Write it down. What else?”
“He’s funny.”
“Put it down. Put them all down. Anything you admire, you already have within you. And don’t stop with Jimmy. Think of anyone you respect, even if only a little. Think of what you like about them—these are qualities you’re going to learn to see in yourself.”
“What about the steps?”
“We’ll get to the steps later. Your homework for tonight is just to write the traits. Got it?”
“I think so.”
Mr. Griffin grabbed his laptop and stepped to the door. “Excellent. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * *
Jarod was back in school on Tuesday with a bounce in his step.
“Where were you yesterday, Jarod?” Mr. Griffin asked.
“Working from sunrise till sunset.”
“From the look on your face, I can tell you hit your goal.”
“$1025. Sorry I had to miss school to finish.”
“Not at all. To paraphrase Mark Twain, ‘you should never let schooling interfere with your education.’”
“Not a chance of that,” Jarod said.
“Yes, you’ve made it quite clear in the past that you were usually happiest when doing the least amount that school requires. That brings you to a crossroad.” Mr. Griffin unlocked the drawer of his desk and pulled out a paper. “Here’s your signed contract. You’ve completed your 30-day commitment.”
Jarod took the contract and tore it down the middle. “I’m sticking with the process. I don’t need this to motivate me anymore.”
“So glad to hear it. Have you thought about what you want on your next card?”
“I’m bumping up my goal to $1500.”
“Excellent. Glad to hear you’re making progress. I do want to hear more about you hitting your goal this weekend, but there’s another piece of business we need to get to today. We have our last victim.”
“Kelvin, you finally jumping in?” Christy said.
“I am.”
“About time. So what’s your big goal?”
I hesitated, then looked at Mr. Griffin. “Go on,” he said.
I pulled out my card and read:
I am generous, caring, funny, smart, loving, loyal, creative, imaginative, dependable
I stopped reading and put down my card. A confused silence filled the room.
“Don’t forget humble,” Jarod said.
“Shut up, Jarod,” Christy said. “Kelvin, what’s your goal?”
I searched Mr. Griffin’s eyes for help, but he just gestured for me to answer.
Sitting there with everyone watching me, I wasn’t sure I understood the goal either. I recalled what Mr. Griffin had told me the day before, but I still felt foolish. “To get to like myself.” I couldn’t hold back and added, “And get others to like me.”
Mr. Griffin sighed at my comment. That might not have been his goal, but it was still one of mine. Then, before he could respond, Jarod said, “All of us already like you.” “Really?” Hot anger rose to my cheeks. “Then why didn’t you invite me to your party last Friday?”
Jarod laughed. “That’s why you’re all bent out of shape? Kelvin, the last time I sent out invitations for a party was for my tenth birthday, and you were there if you’ll recall. I just told a couple of guys that my mom was going away for the weekend, and before I knew it, there were forty people at my house on Friday night. Not one of them was invited. They all just heard something was going on and came over.”
“Oh right, so I was welcome to just come on by?”
“You were as welcome as anyone else.”
“And I suppose if I’d come, I’d have fit right in?”
“No, you probably would have squeezed yourself into a corner, milking the same beer all night, waiting for someone to come talk to you.”
His words seeped in through my anger. People did talk about parties at school all the time, and plenty went without being invited. I never thought to go—I knew I’d be as ostracized there as I was at school. But was I the one ostracizing myself? “Kelvin has started us down the road to the next level of notecards,” Mr. Griffin said. “He’s working on an Identity Card, which focuses on who you are as a person.”
“His card doesn’t have a goal,” Christy said.
“Of course it does. The goal is to strengthen his self-perception and to further develop the qualities he admires.”
“How come there was no timeline?” Darnell asked.
“How many of you consider Kelvin generous now?”
All of my classmates raised their hands, and my neck grew hot.
“Timelines work great when there’s a clear measurable, which does not exist here. Kelvin is taking a trait he already has and is working to expand it within himself. No matter how hard he works, he’ll never exhaust the ability to grow his generosity.” “Then why not have the language of ‘I intend to…’ that other goals have?” Christy asked.
“That’s the funny thing with traits. Just acknowledging them already makes them grow.”
“I think we’re all still pretty confused,” Jarod said.
“Let me try again. Kelvin, did you read your card this morning?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think about when you read, ‘I am generous?’”
“Well, I thought of all the things I’ve been doing to help the rest of the class.”
“How did you feel about those efforts in that moment?”
“I felt good about them, I guess.”
“Did it make you more or less interested in giving your classmates additional help?”
“More.”
“So you see, just by reading, ‘I am generous,’ Kelvin’s generosity grew stronger.”
“That’s all these cards are, just an ‘I am’ statement?” Christy asked.
“No, we have to add steps.”
“What should I put down?” I asked.
Mr. Griffin described the steps, and Jarod bust out laughing. At first, Christy sent him a scathing look, but before long, she and Darnell were laughing as well.
The only ones not laughing were Mr. Griffin, who could have been teaching trigonometry for all the emotion he was showing, and me, sitting there in stunned silence.
* * *
That night I took my notecard and phone into the bathroom. I locked the bathroom door, opened a radio app, and blasted the music from my phone so no one would overhear me.
And, honestly, so I wouldn’t have to hear myself.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, took a quick look, and dropped my eyes to the card. This wouldn’t do. I gritted my teeth, swallowed hard, and looked up again. I held my gaze for a full second before turning away.
Why was this so hard? I was just looking at myself in the mirror. I did this every day for crying out loud!
But not like this. Not really looking. Not facing myself.
I forced myself to face the mirror. After all, that stupid contract Mr. Griffin made me sign said that my math grade would plummet if I didn’t do it. I was supposed to look myself in the eye, but I kept honing in on the mountain range of zits running across my forehead, the greasy shine covering my nose, the matted flop of hair on my head. So disgusting.
My chest tightened, my mouth felt pasty. Tears welled up in my eyes—what was I, a crybaby? I spat at my reflection, bit my lip, turned the music off, and reached for the door. This is so dumb. Who am I kidding?
The door slammed behind me.
“Kelvin, what’s your problem?” Megan yelled out from her room.
“Shut up!” I slammed my bedroom door and crawled into my bed.
The Man in the
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