One Step at a Time

“Barack Obama, George Washington, Frida Kahlo, Rosa Parks. Ernest Hemingway, Alexander Hamilton, Amelia Earhart, RBG. These are only a few examples of the countless we could choose from.” Mrs. Anderson said as she paced in front of the class.

The senior students’ attention grew as they recognized some of the familiar names that echoed in the colorful, air-conditioned classroom. Some straightened, some lifted their weary heads from off their desks, and some caught their teacher’s eye.

Mrs. Anderson smiled as she took notice of their reactions, and her dark eyes sparkled.

She spoke again, “They all changed the world in numerous ways, even when everything seemed lost. They sacrificed the chance to have normal lives and fought against countless discriminations and unbelievers. The question is: how will you do the same?”

As Mrs. Anderson began walking down the rows of students, she took note of every different hair style, outfit, expression, and feature of her students. All seniors. And all about to move on to the next chapter in their lives.

These were the people she dedicated her life to, ones that might become just like the important figures she was speaking of in a few years time. Some students might become celebrities, authors and artists, or even the president or mayor. And some would become something less glamorous: an accountant or mailman. But whatever job they would have, they’d be making an impact, whatever size it may be.

They could do anything with their futures, and it was her job to encourage them to do so and let them know that they could.

A hand raised, “But Mrs. Anderson, they’re all heroes. And we’re normal people. How can we change the world?”

Mrs. Anderson recognized the student as one who rarely spoke up, one who instead decided to spend time in the corners of the classroom, and one who would shrink down whenever called on. He had dark, wavy hair that barely reached his eyes and smooth brown skin, with a black outfit and a small, silver chain around his neck that almost shone from the dark clothing surrounding it. His tone was doubtful.

Mrs. Anderson smiled again. “But you see Astrle, they were all once normal people too. They all had a father and mother, and felt all the same emotions as we do: love, lust, pain, misery, rage. Heroes aren’t heroes because they have superpowers or because they’re perfect. They’re heroes because regardless of whatever hate they receive and pain they feel, regardless of whether they will be praised or not for their good choices, they decide to make their best effort to help something or someone.”

“But how could we possibly do the same?” A girl spoke up this time. She had auburn hair that was brought into two ponytails, with hazel eyes and an outfit made up of a skirt and white, graphic, oversized t-shirt. Her name was Lily.

Mrs. Anderson smiled. “By trying your best. That’s all anyone can do. And even if you have limitations, your best is all you need.”

Her students were paying close attention now, a sudden interest in what their futures might be like.

Another hand raised. This time it was a quiet student, a hardworking and dedicated one too. Ben turned in detailed work, got straight As, and always turned assignments in on time, but never spoke up in class. Mrs. Anderson was glad to see he decided to now.

He spoke in a soft but clear voice, “Woodrow Wilson once said, “You are here in order to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world.””

Mrs. Anderson nodded along, listening attentively to his careful words and hesitant tone.

“And yet, I can’t imagine how he could have known what daily life would be like in his future and our present time. How can a person, president or not, make a statement like that without being completely certain whether it’s true?”