The A I Never Earned

The other day, I learned that one of my fraternity brothers, Roy Jones, had passed away. When someone from your past dies, it's interesting what memories come back. Some make you sad, some make you smile, and every now and then one makes you shake your head and say, Lord, what was I thinking?

Roy's passing brought back one of those stories.

I started college in Emporia, Kansas, when I was only 17 years old. Back then, the school was called Kansas State Teachers College; today it's Emporia State University. I was young, away from home, and almost as soon as I arrived, I started pledging a fraternity.

Roy was one of the Big Brothers in the fraternity I was pledging. At 17, I was brand new to college and brand new to fraternity life, so when one of the Big Brothers had an idea, as a pledge you tended to listen.

Roy also happened to be a math whiz.

I was not.

I was taking a freshman-level math class — Math 101, if I remember correctly. I wasn't terrible at math, but it certainly wasn't my favorite subject. Roy's girlfriend happened to be in the same class, and she was having an even harder time with math than I was.

So Roy came up with a plan.

He would take the class for me.

That put Roy in the classroom next to his girlfriend, where he could help her with the math. I wouldn't have to worry about the class, she would get the help she needed, and Roy would get to spend some extra time with his girlfriend.

Everybody wins!

At least that's what I thought.

And remember, I'm a 17-year-old pledge and this is one of the Big Brothers telling me the plan.

What was I going to say?

Well, apparently not no.

The plan worked beautifully. Roy's girlfriend passed the class, and I didn't just pass.

I got an A.

That's pretty impressive when you consider I wasn't actually doing the math.

Eventually, I finished pledging, became a member of the fraternity, and moved on with college. I probably figured I had beaten the system. I had an A on my transcript, Math 101 was behind me, and nobody would ever know the difference.

Then life gave me another test.

My first job out of college was in retail, where I was put in charge of the men's clothing department. I had employees working for me, customers depending on me, and all the responsibilities that came with being the person in charge.

Then we had a sale.

We needed signs showing the discounts on the merchandise. Some items were 30% off, and we had to calculate the sale prices so customers would know what they were paying. My employees also needed me to show them how to calculate the discounts so they could make the signs and answer customers' questions.

There was just one problem.

Their college-educated boss couldn't do it.

I couldn't confidently calculate the percentages. I couldn't show my employees how to do it, and I couldn't quickly answer customers when they wanted to know what an item would cost after the discount.

I had an A in math.

I just didn't have the math.

Standing there as the person who was supposed to be in charge, suddenly my shortcut didn't seem quite so clever. My employees expected me to know. My customers expected me to know.

And I expected me to know.

That's when Math 101 finally caught up with me.

Roy wasn't there to take my place this time. There was nobody whose knowledge I could put my name on. If I was going to lead that department and do my job, I had to learn the math for myself.

So I did.

I went back and learned percentages, discounts, decimals, fractions, and the other basic math skills I should have learned the first time. I discovered something at 21 or 22 that I hadn't understood at 17:

You can cheat the test, but you can't cheat the lesson.

Sooner or later, life has a way of giving you the test again.

Looking back all these years later, I don't blame Roy for what happened. He was one of my Big Brothers, he was trying to help his girlfriend, and he came up with a plan that probably seemed pretty clever at the time. But I agreed to the shortcut, and ultimately my education was my responsibility.

Neither one of us knew there was a men's clothing department waiting for me down the road.

But there was.

That's the thing about education — and about life. Sometimes we're learning something and can't imagine when we'll ever need it. We look for shortcuts because we can't see the responsibility waiting for us five, ten, or twenty years down the road.

But eventually, life finds out what you really know.

Someone can teach you, tutor you, encourage you, mentor you, and show you how something is done. But there are some things nobody else can learn for you.

Eventually, you have to do the work.

Roy earned that A for me many years ago.

I got the grade.

But standing in that men's clothing department, trying to make those sale signs, answer my employees' questions, and help customers figure out 30% off, I finally learned the lesson.

There is a big difference between getting the grade and getting the education.

Thanks for the memory, Roy.

And thanks for the lesson.

The Lesson: A shortcut may get you past today's test, but it won't prepare you for tomorrow's responsibility. Sooner or later, life will ask you to demonstrate what you were supposed to learn — and when it does, you have to do the work for yourself.