by Alexandria Davis

It was from my dad.

He was the one who gave me the advice that I would soon promise myself to never, ever forget.

“Be your own leader.”

Those words are hard for a ten year old to grasp, especially for my ten year old self.

I was sitting out in the car with my dad, outside my house. I stare out the front window, dazed but attentive. My dad is talking to me in the silence of the old Durango van, he in the front seat and I in passenger. The words that he says forms water puddles in my mind. Murky, but still clear. The words sooth me, each one slowly but surely diminishing my once stable facade. The words stop flowing, and I turn to him in question.

“I want you to remember what I’m about to tell you,” he says, his tone serious but gentle. I nod.

“I don’t want you to forget these words, because these words are going to make you a better person, spiritually, emotionally, and physically.”

His words concern me, but I nod to him again.

He turns to me and looks me dead in the eyes. My eyes stare back unfaltering. He takes in a breath.

“Don’t let other people tell you what to do. Be a leader, not a follower.”

I open my mouth to ask a question, but he continues on.

“Be a leader, but be a good leader. Be your own leader.”

I stare at him, and he stares at me. I sharply turn to face the passenger window to avoid his gaze.

I know he can see me, but I can’t help it as tears begin to flow from my eyes.

I don’t understand, but I want to understand.

We sat in silence until he decided it was time to go inside. As I slowly climbed out of the passenger seat, I had then decided something important.

From now on, I was to take charge in my life. No longer was I going to be pushed around and told what to do. I would be my own leader and decide what is best for me.

The change on the outside was subtle, but on the inside was like the mechanics of machinery, working harder and harder, one improvement after the other.

People soon started to notice the changes. When I was asked to do things like finish other people’s homework or told to go volunteer myself for something by other students, I told them and myself that I wasn’t going to do it. Of course I loss points in their favor, but I could honestly care less. Those subtle changes ended up morphing into something greater.

Something called my own independence.

Everywhere I go and everything I do, I take my dad’s advice with me. And whenever I relied on the advice to help me, I start to become more and more independent and self aware.

The choice to go to St. Teresa’s was my biggest independent choice to date. The shocked look on my mom’s face was all telling when I went up to her and told her that I wanted to go to STA. When I told my friends that I was going to STA instead of O’Hara, the majority laughed at me and started making horrible rumors and jokes about it.

But I didn’t care.

When I told my dad, he didn’t say anything for a while. One day, he and I were sitting in the Durango, driving home from school.

“So do you really want to go through with this?” he asked when we stopped at a red light.

“Yeah.”

We were silent again.

“You know it’s going to be nothing like Regis.”

“I know dad.”

We were halfway home when he asked me another question.

“Why do you want to go to St. Teresas?”

I paused for a very long time before answering. “Well, I honestly don’t know. I mean, St. Teresas could give me so much more opportunities than O’Hara.”

I heard a faint laugh from him.

“I think it will, too.” he says.

That was when I fully understood what being my own leader really meant.