I fear being proven inadequate.  This concern is shared by many people around the globe.  A more real and present fear for me, however, is of realizing greatness.  This has been true since I was a child, but it especially presented itself in high school and afterward.

As a straight “A” student throughout my educational years, in high school I began to venture out of my shell of “nose in the books” studiousness.  This was an attempt to expand my horizons beyond the school environment and into the real world (as it is often called when you’re in school, though it appears no more real afterward than it seemed during).  The result was that, for a single grading period, some of my grades dropped and my attendance suffered.

Because I only needed two class credits during my senior year in order to graduate high school, I joined the work program and went to school in the mornings and did computer work for the Greater Dallas Chamber of Commerce in the afternoons.  If “the real world” was going to be so drastically unlike my life up to that point, surely there was no reason to delay being exposed to such and getting a head start.

Sadly, even this provided no real challenge for me.  That is when my schoolwork and attendance began to suffer.  I failed to apply myself to any degree.  I was already two years ahead of my classmates by attending college over the summers preceding my junior and senior years.  I had my foot in the door so far as careers were concerned and had a successful job before I was 18 years old.  If this was indeed the real world, it was certainly a lot easier than I had been led to believe.  That being the case, what need was there to push for achievement?  Thankfully, several of my teachers saw this and, realizing what was happening, decided to help me get back on track.  They would accept none of that silliness from me.

Mrs. Kandeler, my senior-year English AP teacher, challenged me in many ways.  She, as well as a handful of other teachers (namely Mr. Matlack, Mr. Wilder, Mrs. Golden, Mrs. Peterson, Mr. McKee and Mrs. Gerard), pushed me to excel when I was trying my best to coast.  She took a personal interest in me after catching a glimpse of my potential.

You see, I work best under pressure; I waste my time unless I have no time to waste.  This was the cause of what appeared to be a slacker mentality.  High school, especially my senior year, did not challenge me whatsoever.  I excelled in every class, had perfect attendance, tutored classmates in many subjects, never studied, ravenously consumed reading material from sources far and wide (especially items unrelated to my educational requirements), was already well into my college education, and was otherwise in the top 1% of my class.  Because there appeared to be no challenge in maintaining my status, I began to lose interest in doing even that.

Mrs. Kandeler, having recognized something within me that I had been unable to see for myself, immediately realized what was happening.  She understood that I was not a bad student; I was merely unchallenged.  I was underutilizing my talents.  Much to my surprise, part of that was peer pressure and another part was self-induced restraint.  I was afraid of achieving real, unmetered success.  Somehow, by some means and influence as yet unclear to me, I felt unworthy of it.  Who was I to be extraordinary?

My teachers — Mrs. Kandeler especially — helped me to realize that that was the wrong question.  Challenging my self-doubt, they helped me to comprehend that a better question needed answering: Who am I not to be extraordinary?  What restraints warranted my avoidance of success?

In my haste to be average, I became passive.  I set aside my confidence, will and agency to pursue and achieve what I wanted.  Despite the help I received in high school, having overcome this self-regulating and self-induced timidity, and having achieved greatly in my education and career by the time I graduated, I failed them — my teachers — by not forging ahead with the same determination with which I concluded high school.

While I glimpsed in high school that part of me which is capable of anything, the aspect of my identity that appears to have no limits, the hopes and dreams of that Jason remain unfulfilled to this day.  That Jason is as yet unchallenged in life.  That Jason has been allowed to languish in uncertainty, his skills and abilities prematurely laid to rest on the battlefield of living.

The intensity of that person is not lost and is still seen briefly now and again.  His potential, however, has been betrayed.  My aspirations bequeathed to times forgotten, I have lost my way and failed those who helped me so many years ago.  I have a job and a career, but they are not where I wish to be.  They are perfidy to that which I am capable of.

In a desperate act of self-repudiation, I now resolve to break away from other people’s expectations, to see the unbinding of that which is bound, to rekindle the fire which once challenged me to accomplishment.  The promise that I now make is to live up to myself — the self that I know that I can be, that I have been, that I will be again.  There is potential in this man.  There are unused skills which must be honed and utilized.  There are past dreams which must be reinvigorated and allowed to develop.

I am not going to hold myself back.  I am not going to be afraid of living up to my potential.  Not now, not anymore.

Jason –

May the future hold many unusual, exciting and challenging moments for you.  You have many skills and talents — use them well!

We’ll try to forget about all the rude, smart-mouth remarks, late or “don’t come at all mornings,” and the “let me coast” hiccup.

Having you in my class was a highlight of my career.  Students of your caliber are rare indeed.

You’ve added much to my life.  I expect fabulous reports from your future.

Love you —

Mrs. Kandeler

To you, Mrs. Kandeler, I make this promise: I will bring him back; I will engage the faculties you helped me develop; I will unreservedly light the fire within and allow those flames to burn away the limiting façade which now restrains me; I will do battle with and subjugate the self-imposed constraints; I will rise above my own mediocrity; I will engage my squandered dreams and forgotten hopes; I will finally put my talents and skills to use; I will realize my own greatness.  You taught me that fear of failure is fear of trying.  I will try, and I will not fail you.