The problem wasn’t that I was stupid or anything. It was that I was unmotivated. There was no incentive for me to get good grades. My brother had the same issue, and my parents used to give him money, the amount varying based on the grade he got. But that didn’t work for me. I was never driven by money like my brother was. That’s not how I defined success. Nor was I driven by things either. No material thing that my parents dangled in front of me worked to get me to focus on my grades. My drive came from within, and until I had a cause worth trying for, I wasn’t going to try at all.
Fortunately, the school, and God working through them, came up with a new program when I was in the third grade…The Honor Roll. It had three levels, similar to the cum laude system in college. Level 1 was a blend of As and Bs. Level 2 was all As and no more than 2 Bs. And Level 3 was straight As. Not only would you be recognized in front of the whole school, but you’d also get a certificate with your name in calligraphic writing, forever immortalizing you on paper. The two higher levels came with other rewards as well, such as a free pass on one homework assignment and lunch with the principal, but I didn’t care about that. I wanted the recognition and affirmation. I wouldn’t realize it at the time, but that should have been an early indicator that one of my love languages was “Words of Affirmation.” But I digress.
That year I buckled down and finally focused on my school work. I wanted to be on the honor roll. I wanted to hear my name called out at assembly…to be one of the chosen few set apart as greater than the rest. Now that I read that out loud, I realize that I could have easily become a super villain. Fine line I guess.
When the first six weeks report came out, I had done it…all As and Bs…Level 1. I can’t recall now if my parents acknowledged the accomplishment or made a big deal about it. Frankly, I didn’t really care. As funny and duplicitous as it sounds, their praise didn’t do it for me. No cheering fans or roaring crowds would scream my name because of what they said. I needed the public to know. But praise dies down and fades into silence. I was a junky that needed more. I had to get back that feeling.
So, the next six weeks I did it again…and the next…and the next. By the end of the school year, I was up to Level 2. Better, but still not enough. The best words and loudest cheers still came for the top level. I wanted to be on the Principal’s Honor Roll. And when fourth grade rolled around that’s exactly what I set my sites on accomplishing.
And after the first six weeks, I had done it. I had reached the pinnacle of my small, unknown private school’s mountain. I was finally counted with the best of the best of the couple hundred people that attended that school. In my small corner of the world, I was elite. I doubt now that the cheering and applause was as glorious and raucous as I heard it in my mind, but I didn’t care. Those random strangers adored me!
But every Napoleon has his Waterloo, every William Wallace has his Falkirk. And the second six weeks, everything came crashing back to reality. I ended up with an 89.4 in reading. No amount of coaxing or begging would move my teacher to change it. I offered to do an extra assignment, retake a test, anything…to no avail. The hardest part to take was that I wasn’t an entire point away. I was but a mere tenth of a point away. I missed getting straight As by the smallest possible fraction.
As I reminisce about it now, I’m convinced that God sent that moment to humble me. I had grown too cocky and self-reliant, and I had missed out giving praise back to the One that made it all happen. But just like a blacksmith can make a sword stronger by first tearing it down and folding it on itself, God used that moment to make me better. I was no longer motivated by the recognition of others, but by an innate drive to be better. I no longer cared about the tangible rewards or being better than other people. My reward came from challenging myself to be better than myself.
I never got another B in elementary school or junior high. I graduated as the valedictorian of my eighth grade class. I’m sure there was applause and praise along the way, but I didn’t hear any of it. Nothing someone could say either good or bad could be more than I said to myself. My identity was no longer in man but in the One who made me.
I would go on to get all As and Bs in both high school and college. I graduated with honors from both. It’s amazing to think back at how much that honor roll changed the entire course of my life. In ways I could have foreseen, and in ways I couldn’t. It made me a better student, but God used it to make me a better person too.
NOTE:
Did you know that “cum laude” is Latin for “with distinction”? It is the first
level of graduating with honors. The second being magna cum laude (with great
distinction) and third being sigma cum laude (with highest distinction).
