I missed a graduation reception this month for family reasons. However, I started a letter that day about what I would tell myself at seventeen. Since I’ve decided to send a regular card instead, I didn’t want those blurbs to go to waste. (Note: In #5, Pack Shoestrings, I channel my favorite chapter from Moby Dick, The Line!)
Feedback: What life lessons would you tell yourself at seventeen? Please let me know in the comments section!
The Letter
Student,
Congratulations on graduating! I appreciated the reception invitation, but regret I could not attend… I started this letter thinking about beginnings and endings. Since we didn’t have a chance to chat in person, I wanted to muse about life lessons I wish I knew at seventeen.
When I graduated, I had no problem declaring my future plans. It was all so crystal clear, it had already happened: I would study Physics. But if you asked me about afterwards, you’d just hear crickets. While I loved Physics, orientation meant a battery of tests, and within those first few days I had to face the truth: I was bad at Math. And since I was your English teacher, well, you can guess the rest.
There was no straight line from graduation to teaching. And as my life continues to unfold, I don’t think many folks travel in perfect straight lines. Sure, many graduate and marry their high school sweetheart, and for that, I’ve always been jealous. But for the rest of us, those wayward steps only gain clarity in hindsight.
So what advice would I give myself at seventeen? I could think of a thousand little things, but these are the first that came to mind.
1. Befriend Closed Doors. My life has been steered by the closed doors more than the open ones. Resounding yes’s certainly make life easier: Should I do this? Yes. Should I do that? Yes. But the silence of doors closing, whether quiet or loud, speak volumes. Never be afraid to run towards a given direction, but never be afraid when doors become dead ends. Asking “What if?” is easy, but What if you’re in the best “What if” right now?
2. Be Comfortable with No. While forgiveness beats permission, that has limits. Everyone has first times. All ladders have first rungs. So when an opportunity arises, never discount yourself for lack of experience. Never discount yourself for lack of qualifications. The worst that can happen is being told no.
I have a curious bulletin board next to my work desk—rejection letters and acceptance letters. (Hint: There are more rejections than acceptances!) Life says no more than yes, so print the no’s and stare them down. Oh, they sting like salty tears in the moment, but staring at no’s thickens the skin.
Besides, some things just need one yes. And that one yes turns into another yes, and after a while, the no’s don’t feel so bad. I’m sure a number of expressions work here: You miss the shots you don’t take, aim for the moon and hit the stars, and so on. All true.
So to summarize Numbers 1-2: Spring headlong into the future and embrace your failures. They often shape us more than our successes.
3. Journal Daily. Never forget: Who you were yesterday is not who you are today. And who you are today is not who you will be tomorrow. Journal relentlessly and obsessively. Sure, you’ll forget important details, but you never know when the good days are. And maybe the bad days weren’t so bad. You’ll never know when you need to look back. Externalize today and revisit tomorrow. Agonize over all things, big and small. But write, move on, and only revisit periodically. You will never stop being amazed at how much you grow. [I could devote a post to this!]
4. Complete a cookbook. Few graduates start as chefs. Cooking teaches through quick and cruel feedback. You will know when something tastes bad just as you will know when something tastes good. So buy a cookbook and commit. Fold a paper as a bookmark, mark the good recipes, and power through. But leave spaces to mark when you tried it and how it went. Just know spices are expensive upfront, but learning profile flavors is life-changing. Just know life gives many recipes to choose from!
5. Pack Shoestrings. During my first semester teaching, my shoestrings broke and I tripped before a room of bloodthirsty teenagers. Yes, they hooted and hollered and howled. So I didn’t buy just one pair, but many. Shoestrings are cheap, but when they break, they are the most important thing in the world. Failure means falling, yes, but some things just break. Will break. So buy extra shoestrings and store them at work, in your car, and in your travel bag. Always be prepared. Just know that “shoestrings” can be many things.
6. Pack with Checklists. Learn the power of brackets and underscores: [__]. Never trust your memory. Plan on forgetting. Sometimes you may travel at a moment’s notice. Oh, yes, develop those critical thinking skills, but don’t trust your recall. But make a list, annotate where you forget, and live to revise. The sooner you mistrust your memory, the better it becomes. Make lists for traveling, computer settings, and so on. Embrace any teasing, but gently remind others they shouldn’t trust their memories either.
Oh, and don’t forget to periodically scrap your lists. There’s a beauty there too!
Post Script: Despite a checklist, I once forgot socks for a wedding. It made for a memorable weekend trip. My wife has never let me forget it!
Post Post Script: There are some books I recommend dropping everything and buying. Regarding checklists, three come to mind: 1. The Checklist Manifesto, 2. The Organized Mind, and. 3. The Glass Cage.
7. Practice gratitude, then complain. One very rotten no good bad day, I came home and vented. And vented. And vented. Then my wife asked me to name three things that went well. It stopped me dead in my tracks. Forgetting gratitude distorted how bad the day really was. And yes, bad days happen, but when you notice, they happen more and more frequently. Some people embody too many bad days. And nobody likes a Mr. Grumpy Gills.
Never complain about sunny days. In fact, before you complain, retrain yourself to say “I’m grateful for…” Make those words as common as the word “the” and as common as exhaling. Oh, sure, there’s gratitude research abound. I’m grateful for that. But instead, make gratitude like exhaling. Then I promise the bad days won’t be so bad.
8. Rotate the Page. This spring, as I’ve sat in nursery and hospice, as my son was born and my grandpa died, I worked through the first fifty word searches in a puzzle book. Sometimes, when I’m stuck on those last words, when I’ve checked every possible useful letter twice over, I tilt the page. Then the answers just spill out.
The lesson, here, is perspective. Sometimes we truly can search every square inch and find nothing. (You know, just like looking for the remote while sitting on the remote?) As I’ve gotten older, once frustration hits at not “finding” something, I start with the opposite: I look where it isn’t. (Again, like sitting on the remote.) And sometimes things are just lost. Like that winning lottery ticket. But know that everything is temporary, both the good times and the bad times. When we die, we can’t take our stuff with us.
But in the meantime, many things in life are word searches.
(Side note: Just after my son was born, I would enjoy word searches and coffee while he napped in his basinet. A co-worker of mine joked that that’s what retirees do. And the more I think about it, if a work life well-lived means one day drinking coffee, doing word searches, and watching the sun rise, then retirement will abound in joy.)
9. Talk Walks; Appreciate the Mundane. This combines at least five lessons. Walking helps thinking. But as you walk, appreciate the beautiful. Appreciate the mundane. If you take the time to notice, they are the same. Appreciate the forgotten fencepost, appreciate the withered yellow grass. Appreciate the simple, appreciate the well done. Seek and collect beautiful things, but never hoard them. Time ravages all. Something new but never used ages the same, and speaks to adventures never had.
Never forget Proverbs 31:30: “Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain.” Seeking beauty does not mean imitating the shallow. I never understood the allure of Art until my late twenties, and I regret the previously wasted years. Since I’m combining five or so lessons, remember that beach trips are wonderful, but caves are cheaper. Quite literally, the most beautiful wonders lie beneath our feet. But be careful finding joy in rocks: That means a lot of joy!
10. Never leave the house without a book. I didn’t meet my wife until I was thirty. When I first moved away from home at twenty-three, I was scared traveling solo. That is, until I started packing books. As we move throughout the world, gaps happen. You can waste five minutes scrolling; you cannot waste five minutes reading. Fill the gaps with purpose. Fill your time with new friends within the pages. Besides, when you meet others with books, you meet friends. As the late John Gatto once remarked, those who read are quirky. Surround yourself with great books and quirky people alike. Life is a library, waiting to be discovered.
Since I took pictures, I counted: It was 2,187 days from moving out until meeting my wife—some 11,006 days into my life. My first words to her: “Oh! So you travel with books too?” Her eyes sparkled. I’ll never forget that. In the 1,716 days since meeting her, I’ll always chase those sparkling eyes. Now we both travel with books. Packing to travel feels like telling a child they can’t bring their toy box. Now that we have a son, I hope he lives his life like that.
* * *
What do I wish I knew at seventeen? Is it just ten lessons? No. At seventeen I declared I want to live without regrets, but sadly my regrets rival the stars. After a spring spent in both nursery and hospice, you never know when the “good days” are. Sometimes good days and bad days happen together. Love and loss happen side by side. Many years lived mean many “goodbyes” towards the end. Meanwhile never fear silence. It helps us grow.
I’m rambling now. I do that. As for you? You’ve got a great head on your shoulders and I know you’ll go far. Listen to advice and make better mistakes. Just know you don’t have to be “important” in the world’s eyes to change the world.
Best,
Your Teacher
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8 and 10 are my favorites!