Eddie wrote an article about it for the school newspaper, which was picked up by the local city paper. From then on, we had national media coming to our campus. One day, when I was on my way to lunch, Channel 10 came up to me and said, "Irene, we've been looking for you. We heard you and your friends are taking on Joe Camel." They asked for permission to film us talking about how we got started and what we hoped to accomplish.
Five months after all the excitement, the billboard came down. It was replaced by an ice cream advertisement. We were glad that it was all over and were looking forward to getting on with just being teens.
During the time we were involved with this, my grandfathera smoker who started in his teenswas diagnosed with cancer. Maybe there was a higher power calling me to raise my hand to help write the letter that day. I believe if we help people not to start smoking, that's one family that won't have to watch a loved one die from it. That's a big deal!
Meladee McCarty
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Living on the Edge
Midnight. Sprawled in the wet ditch at the side of the never-ending highway, I lay watching the eerie moonlight occasionally peer through the shadows of the black clouds above. I had spent 182 days on Rollerblades and wondered where I'd find the strength to continue. I had told myself that I would skate across Canada or die in the processand it looked as if I might be traveling home in a shiny black hearse.
It was my last day on the road. What a tripfor the past five months I had to deal with torn muscles, leaden limbs, a spinning head and mononucleosis. I had managed to blade 170 kilometers a day, 8,000 kilometers in total. All I had were 50 kilometers left to go.
I rested my head against the cold, damp earth and closed my eyes. I had to go on. I was on a mission to cure the cancer that was killing my mother.
When I was ten, my mom was diagnosed with leukemia; she was expected to die before I began high school. We were told to cherish every second we had with her.
At the time of my quest, I was eighteen and she was still alive. She had beaten the odds. Yet before I left, she had slipped
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into the accelerated phase of the disease, and doctors had given her six months to live. So I had six months to raise enough money to fund experimental treatment to save her life.
It was a gamble. Every day I'd see the sun set, and I'd wonder if we'd ever be together again. I felt so helpless as I watched time slip awaythe leaves were changing color, the seasons passed me by; and meanwhile, my mother was dying thousands of miles away. I would listen to her frail voice crackle over the telephone wire, and pray that she'd hang in there just a tiny bit longer. How I wish I could've stayed home with her!
But that was not an option. When we hugged good-bye months ago, I heard her whisper, "If you make it, I'll make it." She wanted to keep fighting, she wanted to believe that dreams could come true. I had to prove her right.
Every day was the same routine: I'd get up, skate hours through the frigid rain, and fall asleep in the dark tent pitched at the side of the frosty road. And every day I faced the same excruciating pain. The pavement was coarse, and each step stabbed my back. On breaks I would change my socks, which were soaked in blood from my raw blisters.
Just as I made it over the crest to the final hill, I looked down. In the distance, I saw the glare of city lights. I stopped and stared in disbelief as tears fell down my cheeks. It was so beautiful! Time, mind and feeling were restored, and I could feel every ounce of my physical pain and emotional drain.
After going through two pairs of skates, eleven sets of wheels, four tubes of muscle rub, three bottles of Advil, sixty batteries, four Walkmans, seven stitches in my elbow, four prescriptions of antibiotics, rice cakes and 150 liters of Gatorade, it was over.
At that moment, I knew it had been worth it. There was a reason for every blister, for every tear, for every
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snow-glazed mountain I had to climb. And there was a message. A message of courage and hope. A message that could only be spelled out in blood, sweat and tearsone that screamed out to each and every one of us, showing us that it is possible. We can cure cancer. We can fulfill our dreams.
I stepped through the door of my home. My mother gave me a big hug. She looked so frail, her hair had fallen out from the chemotherapy, and her eyes were worried and tired. Her pale face looked relieved. She couldn't believe that I had made it back in one piece.
I had managed to raise more than sixty thousand dollars, which was not enough for the experimental therapy. A foundation has since been established to raise money, and will continue to do so until a cure is found. It has been close to two years since my mom entered the accelerated phase of her cancer, and she's still alive despite the doctor's warnings. A cure is my dream for her.
And I believe that dreams can come true.
Christine Ichim
blue jean magazine
[EDITORS' NOTE: On October 15, 1996, Christine Ichim finished Rollerblading across Canada. She has raised seventy thousand dollars to date, and established a foundation to continue fund-raising. The money raised so far has been donated to scientists at the University of Western Ontario to investigate a very promising compound that could possibly stop leukemia cells from multiplying without toxicity to normal cells.]
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Anything Is Possible
It's funny how life works out. One day I was a regular high school student worried about landing the right career, and a year later, I was the owner of a company committed to changing the world, one teenager at a time. You see, my whole life I have been driven, to do something, to be something. I've always wanted to succeed, and I've never let anything come in the way of my goals.
It all started when I was eight years old. I felt like my life was over. My dad had just told me that he was no longer going to live with us; he and my mom were getting a divorce. That night, my loneliest night ever, my whole life changed. I became the man of the house. Although I felt a lot of pain when he left us, my new, important role in the family left me no choice but to move on and assume new responsibilities. Because my dad's leaving left us broke, I knew that my first job would be to earn some money for the family. As an eight-year-old, making money was not such an easy task. But I was a determined kid and not easily dismayed. I partnered with my best friend to start a lawn mowing company. I was director of marketing and he was director of labor. Our instant
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success gave me newfound confidence.
My ambitions to be successful did not end with the grass-cutting business in my childhood years. My drive to achieve my goals carried with me into my teenage years, where I first began exploring various career possibilities, confident that my explorations would unleash a hidden passion and begin the path to my future career. I attacked each possibility with intensity and determination. But neither medicine nor archaeology left me satisfied, so I continued to search for my passion.
During the time that I spent devoted to discovering my career, I also took some time to help a friend, five years older than I, learn to read. While my career searches left me unsatisfied, I felt an extreme sense of accomplishment in helping my friend. For the first time in my life, I became consciously aware of the power of helping others, and it was an experience that changed my life forever, although I didn't realize it at the time.
Still frustrated by the lack of career direction in my life, I decided that the stock market held my future and once again jumped head first into exploring this profession. Luckily, this one stuck. Before I knew it, I had landed myself an internship at a successful stock brokerage and eventually, after a great deal of hard work and commitment, I was offered many positions throughout the country.
Excited about my offers, but not wanting to ignore my education, I put my job offers on hold to attend classes at the University of Texas. It was during one of my classes that I was forced to reexamine my money-driven career choice. A successful young entrepreneur, Brad Armstrong, asked me wha
t I wanted to do when I "grew up," a question many teenagers are asked and never want to answer. Feeling confident I replied, "I'll graduate when I'm nineteen or twenty, work in New York or Chicago, and retire younglike you." My teenage American dream.
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Then he said, "Fantastic! Let's say you make lots of money and retire old, say age thirty-five. What are you going to do then?"
Without hesitation I replied, "See the world!"
He smiled and said, "Okay, let's say you see the world and you're thirty-eight. What are you going to do with the rest of your life? What is your goal in life?"
I suddenly flashed back on the experience I had teaching my friend to read and remembered the great sense of accomplishment that I had felt. It was at that moment that I realized what my goal was. I wanted to help others. And I wanted to do it in a way that I knew how.
"Brad," I said thoughtfully. "I want to write a book and help my peers." I am always so frustrated with the unfair portrayal of all teenagers as lazy, unintelligent and violent. What about the millions of us who work hard to get through school, hold steady jobs, support our families and stay clear of trouble?
He replied, "So, why don't you write now? Share with them the methods you've learned to succeed. You can help a lot of people. Share your knowledge."
That night I couldn't sleep. Brad's question about my life mission kept repeating in my head. I made the toughest decision of my life. I decided to follow my heart and jump into life not knowing where I would land.
After a great deal of research and hard work, my book about a career and life success for young people was complete. But I still had a problem. I realized that the very people I would be trying to sell my book to, would probably not be able to afford it. To solve this problem, I created an educational publishing company, designed to get my book into schools across America, where students could read the book at no cost and learn the skills needed to reach their dreams.
While I was not an overnight success, I am happy to say
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that my book did eventually catch on with students, educators and business leaders. It is most rewarding to know that I got to help so many people realize what they can do to make their lives successful, especially teenagers, who have been constantly reminded of their weaknesses.
I've learned firsthand that every person holds limitless potential and passion waiting to be unleashed, and I am living proof that goals really can be achieved. Truly anything is possible when you follow your heart. The sky is no longer the limit.
Jason Dorsey
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A Challenge That I Overcame
I was nervous as I sat waiting in the hospital room, unsure of what Dr. Waites, the pioneer of diagnosing developmental dyslexia, was telling my parents about the test results.
It all began when I moved to Dallas in the fourth grade, and I noticed that I was behind in my reading at Saint Michael's School. Reading out loud, I had difficulty with half the sentences. My teacher, Mrs. Agnew, said my reading comprehension and ability to pronounce words was at a lower level than other fourth graders. I was scared every time she called on me to read aloud because, although I would try my hardest, she would always have to help me with the words. Mrs. Agnew suggested that I be tested for dyslexia.
At first I was confused about why I was being tested; I had been in all honors classes at the public school I had previously attended. The test made me feel uncomfortable, and I was scared to answer the questions, in fear of facing failure.
The test results showed that I had developmental dyslexia. At first I felt discouraged by this diagnosis, but
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eventually, I became determined to master my disability. I got tutors and speech therapy. I even tried to conquer the disability myself. I would read difficult books, hoping to increase the confidence I had in myself. I began to read and comprehend the readings better. I even began to love reading, which is kind of ironic since I had once detested it so much.
I had finally overcome my learning disability. Dr. Waites confirmed this when I was tested again. He said that my dyslexia was at a minimum. I was overjoyed. But even though I had conquered one of the biggest challenges in my life, I still felt like something was missing.
The missing link was filled when I put on my candy-striped uniform for the first time and walked down the halls of the hospital as a volunteer, the same hospital where I had once sat, nervous and confused. Because I felt so lucky to have had access to this facility that had helped me so much, I wanted to give back by being a volunteer.
One day a little girl in a wheelchair asked me to read a book to her. I read the book very slowly so that she could understand the story and the words. When it became time for me to leave, the girl thanked me for reading to her. I walked out of her room with a huge smile on my face. Eight years ago I would have hesitated in reading a book to this little girl, but now I was confident. I had overcome my disability and was helping others to overcome theirs. I am determined to succeed in life, and in the process, help others face and conquer the challenges that I have overcome.
Arundel Hartman Bell
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A Street Kid's Guide
When I was asked to address a high school graduation in a nearby community, my mind boggled.
''Me!" I gasped. "You want me?"
After they assured me they did, I felt honored. Just think of it! Me! A guy who never went to high school was being asked to speak to a group of kids on such an important occasion.
What will I say to them? What profound words can I impart that would stay with them, and perhaps help them with life's choices? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that if I was not careful, I stood a good chance of adding my name to a long list of boring, over-the-hill, has-been speakers that came before me. These kids didn't need that. They didn't need any more long-winded speeches of how it was done in the past, nor did they need to be deluged by a barrage of useless platitudes.
I thought and rethought all sorts of ideas, but came up with nothing. It wasn't until the night before the address that it suddenly dawned on me. Don't tell these kids what you did. Tell them what you learned while you were doing it.
As I gathered these new thoughts, I drifted back to my
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past. I grew upor rather, was dragged upin dozens of foster homes and institutions. It was hard to tell where one home left off and another began. Through those same years, I fumbled my way through seven different grade schools. Somehow I missed the fourth grade entirely. But that really didn't matter. Nobody paid very much attention to me. I had no books, no pencils and no paper. And as far as anyone was concerned, I was passing through.
By the time I was eleven, I was in the fifth grade and unable to read. A nun took pity on me. She kept me after school every day to teach me what she could. For the brief time I was with her, I learned a lot. I wish I could have stayed with her, but I knew I couldn't. I was in "the system." I was sent where they wanted to send me, and stayed until they sent me someplace else. I learned early to obey any and all rules, and to never question authority. The system was designed to teach unquestioned discipline, but it was really containment and control. It worked very well.
By the time I was fourteen, I was finished with schoolor, rather, it was finished with me. In either case, I was tossed out, told I couldn't be educated, and given a job.
At first this was very frightening. I was alone and on my own. There was no one to turn to if I got into trouble, no one to guide me or show me the way. It was hard. I had to become street smart in a hurry. I got tough quickly; I learned to show no fear and to keep my mouth shut. I chose my roads by trial and error. Whenever I stumbled, I got up and tried again. I was determined not to quit and not to be beaten. I did alright. I got through.
Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II Page 25