November 26, 2010

Humility

Written by: Shannon Keegan, CITC Science Teacher, Bartlett High School

When I was 16, I watched a news story about a company that guided bicycle tours all over the country. I loved to bicycle and always wanted to see mountains so I called the number and ordered a brochure. I picked out a trip that would take me 650 miles from Montana through the Canadian Rockies and sent in my deposit.

Then reality set in. Not just about the bike ride, but about the amount of money I would need to raise in order to make the trip happen. In addition to the tour price, I had to buy a road worthy bike, as my old Schwinn wouldn't make it to the end of the block.

I grew up in Michigan farm country where seed corn was the crop of choice. I had connections in the corn business and quickly signed a contract to weed the fields outside of town. At $4 an acre, I didn't think it wouldn't take long to have the cash in my pocket and a fancy new ride to cruise through the countryside.

Hoeing corn however, turned out to be a brutal experience. The fields were hot and humid. The sharp edged blades left me covered in red welts and scratches. It was not a job that too many teenagers endured for long. I would have quit but I knew the trip would never happen if I did.

My parents knew how strongly I felt about this trip. They would have just given me the money and sent me off to the mountains if they could have. They would have done anything to help me pursue my dreams. Instead, they did the one thing they could do. Every afternoon my Dad would drive straight from work to my field, pick up a hoe, and spend the rest of the day digging weeds out from between the rows. Sometimes, my mom would come too. What I remember, though, is my Dad, tired from a long day at a dreary job, quietly walking up and down the fields, enduring the 100+ heat. He never complained. He never said anything about not being able to give me with the one thing I wanted more than anything else in my life. He just hoed corn, day after day, week after week, until his hands calloused and his feet blistered.

We eventually hoed enough corn to pay for the trip and we bought the best bike my freshly cashed check would buy. Then I rode that bike over the high mountain passes and past the milky blue lakes I'd always wanted to see.

I consider that trip to be the single most pivotal experience of my life. Riding a bike through the Canadian Rockies when I was 16 changed everything for me. That in and of itself is a story to be told and one I often do tell.

I've never really told the story that lead up to this life changing event, though. I could have worked the corn fields by myself that summer and would have eventually made the money I needed. I know it was difficult for my parents to feel that they couldn't just provide everything for their kids. Rather than feel bad about it, they turned it into a memorable, shared summer. I have never forgotten what they were willing to do to help me.