My friends know I’m a huge fan of The West Wing. Yes, the show is twenty years old now and it’s a romanticized view of how a presidency should work. I’m aware of the flaws of the show, but I enjoy it, regardless.

As we near the presidential election of 2020, the cast of The West Wing gathered again for a reunion of sorts to promote voting. Odd, since most fans of The West Wing who would enjoy a reunion already vote.

The cast performed a staged reading of one of my favorite episodes of the show, Hartsfield’s Landing. The episode portrays the events in the few hours before the first primary votes are cast in Hartsfield’s Landing, a very small community where only 43 registered voters cast their ballots at 12:01 AM, always choosing the winning presidential candidate.

The lead-up to the vote includes a crisis between China and Taiwan an President Josiah Bartlett playing some chess with two of his staff members, Toby Ziegler and Sam Seaborn. Of course, he’s also playing chess with the Chinese.

As the President and Toby square off, they discuss Bartlett’s re-election campaign. The presumptive Republican nominee is a man who is, let’s say a little less brilliant than our esteemed Bartlett.

Toby insists that the President make this election about smart and not. Engaged and not. Heavyweight and not. He tells Bartlett, “you’re a heavyweight.”

This moment sticks with me. Every time I watch it, it hits me in the gut.

I am often confronted by a feeling that I have not done enough in my life. That I am meant to achieve something great and have not. That I have failed in any number of areas.

I am haunted by this phrase. “You’re a heavyweight.”

So many others have told me that they see greatness in me. This is hard to accept when you don’t feel greatness. Harder still when you don’t see any evidence.

I struggle daily with a burden I have placed on my own shoulders to be a “heavyweight” because I don’t really know what it means to be a “heavyweight” in any sense.

You may feel the same way. Perhaps you’ve felt like there was something you were supposed to do or even wanted to do and didn’t.

Trust me, I’m right there with you. I don’t know what I need to do to be a heavyweight, but I can’t escape from the feeling that I am one.

Likely, so are you. In our own ways, we are all heavyweights. There is something we have in us that is ours to fulfill. To be the best at. To command. To make happen.

It’s our purpose. And for each of us, it’s different and doesn’t look like anyone else’s. It’s our story to tell and we get to be the hero of that story.

We get to be the heavyweight. We get to tell our story in our way. And no one but us can tell us how to write it.

You’re a heavyweight.

Long live the heavyweights.

Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash

This is the type of story I don’t get to tell very often any more. Since I’m no longer in the classroom, my level of interaction with students is significantly reduced. When I do have the chance to speak with a former student, it always makes my day just a bit brighter.

Walking to my office this past Monday morning, a student from my first year in the classroom caught me on my way in. We chatted for a few minutes about life, school, the weird times of 2020, and then she says…

“So, I’m taking Calculus now. And I’m doing really well.”

First, a bit of background. When I met this student 5 years ago, life had thrown her quite a few curveballs. Things weren’t great and she was hurting. She was bright but had little confidence in her abilities.

I was her math teacher and, of course, she told me math was not for her.

What a load of hooey.

All through the year, she rose to every challenge I gave her. The following year, she moved to the advanced math class. And continued on that path into high school. And just to put all the concerns of you non-math folks out there, she excelled in every other area: music, speech, and other academics.

She’s a junior now. When she told me she was taking Calculus, she did so with what can only be described as a “poop-eating grin” (see, I kept it G-rated for you).

Why? Because she knew I would know what that meant.

I honestly have no clue what she plans to do with her future but I’m fairly certain that it won’t have anything to do with Calculus. Or perhaps any other higher-level mathematics course.

But, that’s not always important. Sometimes you do the hard things because they’re hard and you need to prove to yourself that you can do them.

Sometimes you climb the mountain just because it’s there. Just to say you’ve done it. Not because you’re trying to prove anything to anyone else other than yourself.

These are the moments I live for as an educator. This is why I do what I do. To inspire and empower the next generation. To help them believe they can do great and wonderful things.

I hope you do the same.

-MP

Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

I am convinced that people are much better off when their whole city is flourishing than when certain citizens prosper but the community has gone off course. When a man is doing well for himself but his country is falling to pieces he goes to pieces along with it, but a struggling individual has much better hopes if his country is thriving.

Pericles

Without question, the best Star Trek movie ever made is Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.