When I saw the grade, I was confused. The failing grade for the final exam did not surprise me, but I was shocked to see that my grade for the semester was an F as well. I thought there must have been a mistake. Based on the conversation with the teacher, I thought I had a D for the fourth quarter, but according to the grade that was posted, I had earned an F. This grade, coupled with the F on the final exam, meant I had automatically failed the course. I asked the teacher about the grade and reminded her of our conversation a few days earlier. Based on her response, it was apparent that either she did not remember our discussion, had remembered it differently, or I had just misunderstood her. The grade would stand.
I was afraid of what was to come next. Although part of my fear was related to my parents’ response and the embarrassment I would have to endure from my friends, these were not my primary concerns. My greatest fear was that I had been running as fast as I thought I could, and I had not been able to keep up. I assumed things would only speed up in the future, and if this were the case, what hope did I have? After failing two classes, my mental model was becoming crystallized. I was good at athletics, music, and leadership, but I was not a good student.
Cs ARE BETTER THAN Ds
There may have been numerous conversations about grades over the years, but I can only recall the one that happened that night. It was not that grades did not matter in our home, but my parents had made it clear that grades were not the only thing that mattered. My brother and I were in our respective bedrooms when dad called out from the living room, “Boys, come in here.”
I do not know if my brother knew why dad was calling for us, but I did. My stomach dropped, and my legs felt weak. Once in the living room, he motioned for us to sit on the couch. The couch was full-sized and had been upholstered in a dark navy windowpane style. Draped across the back of the couch was a white afghan comprised of colorful “granny squares” that had, in fact, been knitted by my great-grandmother Hankins. My brother took his place at one end of the couch, and I sat at the other.
To this day, I am not sure why my brother, who was two years ahead of me in school, was there. Perhaps it was for moral support, or maybe Dad thought it would be helpful for him to see how things would be handled if he ever failed a class. One way or the other, I was glad he was sitting there, even if he had done nothing to deserve it.
My dad’s body language was hard to read. He was not angry, but it was clear he was concerned. It was also evident that he did not know how to start the conversation. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back as if he were looking heavenward for guidance.
When he started, he sounded tired. He said, “Boys, let me tell you something about grades…” He paused, looking for the right words, and then said, “…Cs are better than Ds….” He paused for another moment and concluded, “Try to make Cs.” He looked at me to see if I had understood his message. Wide-eyed, I nodded in agreement. Without saying another word, he stepped forward and gave me a high five. I do not recall ever having another conversation about grades.
He recognized that my poor grades were not due to a lack of motivation, so he did not try to motivate. He sensed that adding more pressure would only make the situation worse. He knew I wanted to succeed but lacked the ability to do so. From my perspective, his recognition of this was one of the reasons why he was a great coach.
An unintended outcome of the conversation, however, was how it shaped my understanding of grades. My translation was simple: C = good, D = not as good, and F = not good. On the other end of the spectrum, a B = a pleasant surprise, and an A = astonishment.
From that point forward, I do not recall getting another D or F in high school, but I resigned myself to the idea that I was not “book smart.” I began looking for the path of least resistance in school. I did not attempt to take any classes that were not required if at all possible.
AN UNPREPARED GRADUATE
My junior year, we moved from Mobile to St. Louis, Missouri, where I enrolled at the Christian Academy of Greater St. Louis. Dad taught a few classes and coached at the same school while also working with a nearby church. The school was very small, and because of limited class options, they had to get creative for me to complete all the courses needed for graduation. Because I was behind my classmates in math, I took my class as an “independent study” with some guidance from the math teacher. My senior year, I moved back to Mobile for the first quarter of the year to play football and then returned to St. Louis until graduation. Due to some of the scheduling issues, I had been able to avoid the more challenging math and English courses while still being able to graduate from high school.
An exchange that I feel sums up my final years of high school happened on the day that I graduated. Following commencement, the principal was circulating among the families and graduates. He was a good man who I believed was sincerely interested in the lives of the students, but he had spent the bulk of his adult life in the military, and was not in his natural environment. When he came to me, after offering his congratulations, he asked, “So, what are you planning to do after graduation?” I responded, “I am planning on going to college.” I then told him I was considering studying psychology.
His raised his eyebrows, frowned, and tilted his head slightly to one side and said, “Really?” He looked down as if processing something important and said, “Wow.” He concluded, “Do you think you are smart enough to do that?”
I am not sure what his motivation was for the comment, but I was not offended by it. It stung because it hit too close to home. In truth, I had been wondering the same thing.
Looking back at that time in life, I could not be more grateful for the opportunity to attend Mobile Christian School and the Christian Academy of Greater St. Louis. The academic challenges I faced while in these schools had nothing to do with the quality of the instruction. I do not doubt that if I had not attended those schools, it would have been much worse. I was only able to attend private school because my dad either taught or coached there. Even as a teenager, I felt it was an honor to attend those schools, and my feeling has not changed over time.
OFF TO COLLEGE
I looked at a handful of schools, but I always thought Harding University would likely be the best fit for me. It was where my parents had attended, and we had visited the campus several times over the years. Besides, my brother was already there, and having both of us at the same school was convenient for our family. On the day it was time to go, I packed up my car and headed south from St. Louis to Searcy, Arkansas. Before I left, I grabbed a bottle of Pepto-Bismol for the road. I was doing my best to act as if leaving for college was no big deal, but my body knew the truth. I was unsure if I had what it took to make it.
Among the reasons I wanted to go to Harding was that they provided me an opportunity to play football. I was not a good enough football player to be offered a scholarship, but I had been invited to be a walk-on. For the next two years, I played special teams and cornerback. It was a positive experience, but the longer I was in school, the clearer it became to me that the game that had meant so much to me in high school did not have the same appeal in college. It was not my greatest passion, and I was an average collegiate athlete at best. After earning my letter my sophomore year, I hung up my cleats.
Although my GPA was not impressive, I was passing my classes and had adjusted to college life. Academically, the real test would begin in my junior year. My undergraduate major required that I pass three semesters of Greek to be able to graduate. I had been told the classes were very challenging. One person said that Greek was a “sifting class,” and it was designed to force some people out of the program.
When I started the first semester of Greek, I was relieved to find the professor was a caring person and an experienced educator. It was clear he was not trying to push people out of the program. He was trying to help them. With that said, it was also clear that the class was going
to be very tough.
I found that one of the key challenges of learning another language is that it requires a good grasp of English grammar. Lacking this, I was quickly overwhelmed. In the first few weeks of class, when I raised my hand to ask for an explanation, the professor, Dr. Duane Warden, responded with an answer that gave additional insight into something pertaining to English grammar. Not only did I not understand Greek, but I also did not understand the terminology he was using to explain Greek. I found it all the more disconcerting when I noticed my classmates nodding their heads in agreement with his explanation. I felt a sense of panic. I knew how much was riding on the class, and I was lost.
The class met five times a week. My section met in the morning, but there was another section that met in the afternoon. Both sections were covering the same material. Dr. Warden said that everyone was welcome to attend both sessions of the course if that would help them gain a better understanding of the material. I would often attend the class both in the morning and in the afternoon in the hope of picking up the concepts through sheer repetition.
I passed the first semester with a D, but much like pre-algebra back in middle school, as the content became more complicated in the second semester, I was failing. I am not sure what prompted Dr. Warden to make the announcement, but one day in class, he said, “If you are willing to put in the work, if you will attend class, and turn in your assignments on time, you will not fail this course.” I appreciated his confidence, but thought to myself, I am about to disprove that theory.
On the day of the final exam, I took my time making sure I answered the questions as thoroughly as possible. I was among the last students to complete the final, and when I turned it in, Dr. Warden invited me and another student to his office so he could grade the papers for us. He knew we were anxious. I stood near him as he went through each page and marked the incorrect responses. When he finished grading, he looked at me and said, “I told you if you would put the work in, you would not fail this course.”
I earned an F. He gave me a D. It was an act of compassion that I would never forget.
The lesson I took from the experience was that I was not smart enough to learn Greek. At that time, it did not even cross my mind there were other factors that may have contributed to my academic challenges. I was just thankful to have completed 2 of the 3 required classes.
LEADERSHIP
Although I was struggling academically, I was growing as a leader. Faculty and students began inviting me to speak at campus events, and I was being asked to take on additional leadership responsibilities. I found that after quitting football, my college experience was very different. Namely, I had more time for other activities. My brother played in the pep band for home basketball games, and they needed an extra trumpet player. He invited me to join them, and I agreed. It was fun to share that experience with him, even if it was for just a couple of games. The next semester, he suggested that I join one of the campus choruses, the University Singers; he was the student director. When I got there, I felt a bit self-conscious about being a former football player joining the choir, but it ended up being one of my favorite memories of college.
Furthermore, if I attended the practices and performances, I could earn an A every semester I took University Singers as a class. My junior year, they asked me to be the president of the University Singers, and I was also asked to be the president of my social club. My senior year, I was elected as the president of the Student Association.
Serving as the student body president changed the course of my life. Much of the work was public, like leading committees, speaking at events, and planning projects. Other aspects of the role happened behind the scenes. One of those was a weekly meeting with the university president, Dr. David Burks.
DR. BURKS
David Basil Burks was born on Thursday, May 13, 1943, to Marie and Basil Burks in the Ozark Mountain community of Ava, Missouri. Although he was born in Missouri, he was raised in the southeast New Mexico town of Truth or Consequences. In 1950, 4,700 people lived in the town where his father was the superintendent of schools.
Following graduation from Hot Springs High School in 1961, David loaded up his car, a green 1949 Ford, and traveled northeast.7 He exchanged the arid desert climate of New Mexico for the humid, sub-tropical weather of central Arkansas. Due to his mother’s poor health, David and his sister, Karen, had learned to live independently earlier in life than most. When he got to Harding College, the idea of things like curfew seemed unnecessary for someone who had already learned how to live on his own. Initially, the adjustment was uncomfortable, and he decided he would transfer to the University of New Mexico at the first opportunity. While waiting for the right opportunity, he began building friendships with faculty and classmates that would cause the dream of returning home to fade away.8
Not only did he stay at Harding, he threw himself into the experience. One of the reasons he had chosen Harding was because of his involvement with the award-winning yearbook, The Petit Jean. A photographer, he had been granted a scholarship at Harding to take photos for the yearbook.9 Through the experience, he had been given unique access to campus life. In addition, he was learning to be a leader by serving as a Resident Assistant his junior year10, the same year he served as president of his social club, Beta Phi Kappa. It was through his social club that he met his future wife, Leah Gentry, who had grown up on a farm in Alhambra, Illinois, before heading south to attend Harding.11
His senior year, David was elected Student Association President. He began dating Leah that fall, and the two were engaged in November. They graduated together in June of 1965 and were married in August. The newlyweds moved to Austin to pursue his MBA in accounting from the University of Texas. David had been offered a fellowship at the university and was also offered the additional opportunity to teach two Principles of Accounting undergraduate courses. He completed the degree in August of 1966 and then accepted an offer to work with Exxon on an assignment in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
He felt his career path was set when he and Leah welcomed their first-born son, Bryan, into the world. A call from Harding disrupted their plans. Dr. James Hedrick, a beloved professor, was calling to ask him to return as a member of the faculty. The family packed up their home and made their way back to Arkansas.
Prior to the call inviting him back, he had not considered following in his father’s footsteps as an educator, but when the offer came, it felt like the right thing to do. In August of 1967, a tall, thin, and very young professor with thick glasses stood behind the lectern and began teaching. After teaching for four years, in 1971, the Burks family moved to Tallahassee, Florida, so David could pursue his Ph.D. in higher education administration from Florida State University. Ten days prior to moving to Florida, the family grew by one with the addition of their second son, Stephen. After the coursework was completed in 1974, he graduated, passed the CPA exam, and they returned to Searcy. He was named the dean of the school of business from 1974-1987 and became the president of the university in May of 1987.
When I began meeting with Dr. Burks in August of 1994, I had no idea how my time with him would shape my future. I had been told that he was a “businessman.” The label was meant to imply that he was more about numbers than he was about people. When I met with him, I anticipated he would be focused on the business aspects of the institution. I found he had either changed from what he had been earlier in life, or he had been mislabeled. It was true that he was comfortable with numbers, blueprints, and strategic plans, but this was only part of the story.
What I soon discovered was that he was someone who cared deeply about people and ideas. He had the heart of an educator and wanted to see people grow. He had a growth mindset in every aspect of life. As a result, he wanted to see the school grow numerically, he wanted the campus to grow with new buildings, and he wanted to see the academic offerings grow too. All of this was an outgrowth of his genuine desire to
see people grow personally and professionally. His passion for growth at Harding was simple. He wanted to provide as many people as much possible access to what he considered to be a life-changing learning experience.
Once I understood his motivation, I regarded him as a trusted mentor and guide. Through the process, he wanted to help me grow as a person and leader. Significantly, he applied the same standard to himself. He was always seeking new experiences and new challenges that would help him grow. My friendship with him was the most unexpected benefit of having served as Student Association President.
My year as president was an incredible learning experience. It was a year of constant activity, which often meant early mornings and late nights. Every week there was something new. One week we were planning a flood relief effort to Georgia. The next we were promoting a school activity. The next we were trying to raise funds for the people of war-torn Croatia. It was challenging, fun, and transformational.
As the school year was coming to a close, my focus began to turn toward a trip that summer to Dubna, Russia. Starting in 1992, I had gone to Russia each summer to teach English. For the summer of 1995, I had recruited two teams of students. On the trip, there were several veteran teachers, and it was something of an all-star team. The first group taught during the first half of the summer, and the second group relieved them for the last half. Even though I loved the team, the people we were serving, and the work, it had been a long year, and I felt tired as we boarded the plane heading to Moscow. By the time I returned, I had lost a lot of weight and was emotionally and physically exhausted.
Sleeping Giants Page 9
