I stood outside the XO's office, and I felt like I was outside the guidance counselors office all over again. I thought about pouring myself into school work and making the honor roll; and then the startling defeat I felt as I learned the truth about why I succeeded, while my guidance counselor laughed.
I thought about getting set-back in boot camp; I thought about failing out of technical training in
People on the Oakridge used to talk down about the guys in the deck department. They called us "Deck Apes" because we are supposedly the dumbest guys on the ship. Now I feared I wasn't even smart enough to be a Deck Ape. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and wiped away the tears the attempted to well up in my eyes.
My mind raced about what the XO would probably say to me, and self-defeat began boiling up inside me as I felt every ounce of optimism, every drop of hope I had bleeding from my veins. I felt sick to my stomach, and I wanted to fall to the deck like a defeated heap of worthless junk.
The thought of facing life after being kicked out of the Navy was more than I could bear. I had already decided that I could not recover from shame of that magnitude. The XO opened the hatch to his office and invited me in just in time to keep me from losing control of myself. What happened next floored me.
The Executive Officer didn't throw me out--he didn’t say anything I had prepared myself to hear. I stood there confused when he said what he did. At first I didn't know if he was serious or just making fun of me but he was serious. There was no "punch line" here. I heard him right: The second in command of this U.S. Navy vessel told me, an 18 year old Sailor, that he had a learning disability and he thought I had the same disability.
He also said that if he was right about me, I could learn to defeat this affliction, to become a leader in the Navy—maybe even an officer, just as he had done. For that reason, he was going to send me to a developmental psychologist to be evaluated for that learning disability.
This time, I got help that "helped". My dyslexia was identified, and I practiced strategies to mitigate the effects. I also learned about “smart” people who might have had dyslexia.
I had to laugh at the irony--Who would have thought?
Who would have thought that l would be in the distinguished company of world leaders like President John F. Kennedy, or Albert Einstein, and a bunch of others.
Despite this help and the personal leadership I received, I still didn't succeed in reading a book from cover to cover until I was 23, and I didn't muster the courage to take my first college class until I was about 26, but I made my journey in my own time, on my terms.
Here’s the moral of my story: You might be someone’s XO. You might be the first person to help someone spark their inspiration; maybe you come along later and help that person fan a spark of inspiration into a flame of confidence; or come along even later and help stoke a flame of confidence into a raging hot fire of achievement that blazes paths for others to follow.
No matter where you come along in that process, recognize and take advantage of your GOD-given opportunity to make a difference. I'm so thankful that the long line of leaders I've been privileged to know didn't write me off because of past failures. Anyone can lead the all-star, or the MVP, but the real leadership achievement lies in helping the one who has been written off as a failure and proving that there is a place for them to be successful and important.
Here I am; evidence of what happens when people take interest and get involved. Here I am; proof that anyone can succeed with a little caring, involved leadership.
Here I am, serving as a Naval Officer, and getting my Ph.D., 23 years after my high school guidance counselor told me to "forget about college".
I have to laugh at the irony. Who woulda thought?
Indeed, who woulda thought?
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