Perspective And Circumstances

Maybe because of my perspective or circumstances that starting from my freshman year in high school, I questioned the script. The meticulously crafted narrative that painted education as the golden ticket, the key to unlocking a life of comfortable servitude. I watched my classmates diligently memorizing dates and formulas, their eyes glazed over with the vague promise of future reward, and I felt a growing unease. Why were we all striving to fit into this pre-determined mold? Why were we being trained to be employees, not innovators, not creators?

My parents, well-meaning but firmly entrenched in the conventional wisdom, urged me to focus. "Good grades and working hard at a good job," they'd say, as if it were a mantra. They envisioned a secure and stable life stretching out before me, a life free from the anxieties they knew all too well. But the vision felt suffocating. The thought of spending my days contributing to someone else's dream, enriching someone else's pocket, left a bitter taste in my mouth.

The irony wasn't lost on me. They preached the value of hard work, but only within the confines of a pre-defined system. The system, I suspected, was designed to benefit those at the top, leaving the rest of us to scramble for the crumbs. Hard work, in their eyes, meant climbing the job ladder, not building your own ladder from scratch.

In high school, I excelled in subjects that sparked my curiosity, like distributive education (DECA) and programs like Junior Achievement. These classes offered a glimpse into the world of business, of creating something from nothing. But the mandatory courses, the ones designed to mold me into a "well-rounded" job candidate, felt like a soul-crushing waste of time. Algebra, history, literature – they seemed disconnected from the real world, abstract exercises that had little bearing on my future.

While my peers were stressing about college entrance exams and applications, I was consumed by a different kind of education. I devoured books on entrepreneurship, biographies of successful self-made men and articles on retailing. I worked part-time jobs, not for a paycheck to spend on frivolous things, but to learn. At the local drug store, I studied customer service and book keeping. at a miniature golf course I learn how to promote and advertise and after high school I learned retail marketing and management at a department store. My minimum wage was an investment in my future.

I knew the path I had chosen was not without its challenges. It required relentless hard work, unwavering self-belief, and a willingness to embrace failure as a learning opportunity. But the rewards, I believed, were immeasurable. The freedom to shape my own destiny, the satisfaction of building something from scratch, and the ability to contribute to the world on my own terms. These were the prizes I sought, not the hollow promise of a corner office and a gold watch.

With just enough money scraped together to start on a shoestring, I launched my one-man retail business. I bought wholesale goods and sold them in a small store front. It was a grind, finding merchandise, setting up displays, haggling with customers, and chasing down leads. I worked long hours, often seven days a week, and barely made enough to cover my expenses.

"Big" never came, not in the way I imagined it then. I didn't become a millionaire or build a global empire. But it was enough, at least most of the time. Enough to pay the bills, enough to keep the lights on, enough to fuel my dreams.

Years later, I often reflect on my journey. My dad, a dedicated steelworker, labored tirelessly to provide for our family. As a child, I was blissfully unaware that we were working poor, even though the signs were there like flashing neon. I always had enough to eat and a warm bed to sleep in. During the summer, we went on vacation every year, most of the time to visit my grandparents in Florida. What I learned later in life was that my dad would take out a loan to finance that vacation, a loan that took all year to pay back. My mom shopped at many food stores but frequented one particular corner market. I never thought about why as a kid, but reflecting back, it was the one place that would extend the family credit until the next paycheck arrived.

I remember one time when I was very young and had lost a tooth. I put it under my pillow, eagerly anticipating the tooth fairy's visit. Day after day, there was nothing, for almost a week. My parents encouraged me to keep trying, telling me the tooth fairy was very busy and had a long line of kids waiting, but he was going to come. It must have been heartbreaking for them to tell stories to a child they loved dearly because they didn't have a quarter to their name to put under the pillow until payday. A big treat for the family that I always enjoyed was when we would go to a famous root beer drive-in restaurant and have the frosty mugs of root beer brought to the car by the carhop. We never had pop at home.

My first week of high school, as a freshman, the guidance counselors called everyone, one by one, into their offices to talk about preparing for college. They had me pumped up, and I went home very excited. Looking back, it really must have hurt my dad and broken his heart when he sat me down to explain. He couldn't afford to help me pay for college, and he couldn't afford to risk our house to co-sign a loan. As far as paying to go to college, I was on my own. My dad's pay was just over, by the smallest tiny bit of income, for me to get any help from the government. I started to think and plan how I would do it. I was not an athlete, so there were no scholarships there, and after my first report card – mostly A's and a couple of B's with a C in gym – an academic scholarship was not going to be there, and the math on earning enough cash, was not workable either. I came to the conclusion that college was a long shot for me. The only way for my hopes and dreams to come true would be through entrepreneurship.

I still don't understand the blind faith in the traditional education-to-employment pipeline. I believe education is valuable, but it should be a tool for empowerment, not a means of indoctrination. It should foster critical thinking, creativity, and self-reliance. It should equip individuals to create their own opportunities, not just to fill pre-existing roles.

We need to challenge the prevailing narrative that equates success with conformity. We need to encourage young people to think outside the box, to question the status quo, and to pursue their own unique visions. We need to cultivate a culture of entrepreneurship, where innovation is celebrated, and risk-taking is encouraged.

I believe everyone should have the opportunity to explore their potential, to develop their skills, and to pursue their passions, regardless of whether they choose to work for themselves or for someone else.

The greatest tragedy is not failure, but the failure to try. The failure to pursue your dreams. The failure to live a life that is authentically your own.

The propaganda, as I see it, lies in the subtle and pervasive message that we are not capable of creating our own destinies. That we need to be guided, directed, and controlled. That our value is determined by our ability to conform and comply.

But we are more than cogs in a machine. We are individuals with unique talents, perspectives, and aspirations. We have the power to shape our own lives and to create a better world. We just need to believe in ourselves and to be willing to take the leap. The world needs innovators more than it needs indentured servants. The world needs people who dare to dream, who are willing to challenge the status quo, and who are determined to create their own path. The world needs truly self-reliant individuals, not just compliant cogs. It is time to start teaching that. Even if it means questioning the script. Even if it means forging your own path.