Role Models

I knew what his response would be to what I'd say before I even opened my mouth.

"Well, you don't tell people because you don't want to have to say you didn't get it later."

He was right. I've always been honest with him about my job situation, or lack thereof in this case. Whenever I've needed to talk, my mentor has been there for me.

My mother always felt like I needed an older male role model since I never had a father. A male presence is important in everyone's life, to be sure. The thing she didn't understand, though, is that it can't be forced. She's tried to force male guidance upon me a few times, which is a little disconcerting considering that she should know how I react when people try to force me to do anything. I cannot stand being pushed in to doing things; I will resist at all costs. I'm stubborn like that. Continue and I will simply dig my heels increasingly deeper into the soil. Like all good things, this too must come organically.

Auspicious beginnings seem to be the constant for my most meaningful relationships. My first encounter with him was in my freshman year at college, when I took his class, not knowing much more than that someone had mentioned he was the toughest teacher in the school. Like almost everything else other than football and my social life that year (what else is there!?), I didn't take it seriously and proceeded to get a sub-par grade. Ironically, it was par for the course that year. It was, in fact, the toughest class I'd ever had to that point and was lamenting my decision to take it by the end of the semester.

By my senior year, a few things had changed. I'd gotten a new major, which was treating me much better than the previous one ever had. I was treating it better as well. I was in a healthy relationship with my academic life by that point and had found the right balance for me to be successful. I needed to take a class which, of course, he happened to teach. I saw it as an opportunity for redemption. After I added his class and before the semester actually started, I sent him an email letting him know that me choosing his class was completely deliberate and that I planned to show him what I'm really made of. He let me know the class would be much more difficult than the one before it.

As the semester went on, I continued to plow through, occasionally stubbing my toe, but mostly fighting through with the tests, quizzes and papers. A paper in his class is more scrutinized than a military barrack, every speck of dirt or untucked corner exposed with bright red Sharpie ink. The final one was the stuff of legend, the kind where an all-nighter -- or two straight -- is more expected than not. Upon completion, I decided to write him a little letter letting him know just how he'd impacted me and that I'd appreciate a deeper relationship. I turned both in on time and walked out of the room, never looking back. He responded on my paper, "I would very much like that."

Ever since then, through my super-senior year and on into my post- collegiate life, I have looked to him for advice on a myriad of subjects. We have become close friends and have developed a strong rapport, something I don't have with any other male old enough to be my father. He's helped me through some tumultuous times and has never tried to push me into doing anything. He simply assumes I'm smart enough to understand what he's talking about. He assumes future greatness in various aspects of my life, from finding a new job to the kind of father I will become to simply living a life of obedience to God. It gives me confidence to aspire and the courage to be bold. I can only hope that I justify his affirmations.

I couldn't imagine letting him down, even if I already know what he'd say.