longer.blue

“You have no skills or talents to get you anywhere in life,” said my 9th-grade school counselor—right before I stood up and walked out of high school for the last time. Flash forward a couple decades. The economy had tanked, my once-thriving business was losing clients fast, and 36-year-old me had a harsh realization: I needed a “real” job. Easy enough, right? Except for one thing—I’d been hiding a secret my whole adult life: I was a high school dropout. That all changed the day before my 37th birthday, when I signed up to take the GED exam. I had no idea if I’d pass. I hadn’t studied. I didn’t even know what was on the test. But if I was going to fail, I figured I’d do it with flair. Test day came. Nerves? Absolutely. Flashbacks? You bet. I’d never been good at tests—my brain liked to freeze up at the worst times. So I sat down, closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and just dove in. Some parts were easy, some looked like they were written in an alien language. But I got through it. And then, just as I was leaving, the proctor—bless her—turned to the rest of the room and said, “Don’t worry, the one who finishes first never passes.” Ouch. But spoiler alert: I did pass. With honors. Since then, I’ve earned a BA in Graphic Design and Media Arts, graduated top of my class with an MBA (4.0 GPA, thank you very much), and I’m now working on a second master’s at Indiana University. Today, I’m the chief marketing and communications officer for a nonprofit that helps adults earn their high school equivalency diploma, learn English, or brush up their skills so they can build better futures. I get to help share the stories of people who, like me, weren’t given an easy path—but made it anyway. And in a twist no one (especially not my high school counselor) saw coming, I also teach some of the very college courses I once took as an undergrad. Imagine that—a high school dropout, now standing at the front of the classroom. So, here’s the deal: It’s never too late. You are enough. You are worthy. And no matter what anyone tries to tell you—your story is still being written.