This Section of My Life

Since I woke up, I almost knew that I was going to head to state on my senior year.  I had worked for years for this moment; this green stage is where I was ready to perform my best.  The course was difficult, and my game was ready for everything the course had to throw at me.  The last words I was told before I stepped up to the tee box was by my coach and mentor: “I really do expect you to be playing next week.”  Now it was up to just me, to capitalize on my game, and to prove to everyone that I was good enough to go to the state golf championship.

            For the past 2 ½ years, I dedicated myself to being the best golfer I could be by practicing as often as I could.  When I didn’t have a driver’s license, I would try to get a ride up to my golf course as often as I could, whether that meant going for only a half hour or staying up there six hours.  Once I did get my license, I would go golfing even more.  I would play as much as I could, even if it was raining.  I practiced on the putting green, hit balls on the range, and even saved my money from work to buy a better set of clubs.  Even with all the practice, I knew what I needed was a coach.  I found a great coach, and we worked together quite a bit.  We improved my game, and that gave me the confidence going into each season.

            As I began my final golf season for my high school, I was all the long preparing to make it to state.  I had been watching golf shows and reading articles through the winter, and tips on how to improve.  I took a risk at the beginning of the season by completely changing my swing, but did not see immediate improvement. I knew though, soon enough, it would pay off.  Luckily, it did pay off.  As sections came closer, and my excitement grew, I never wanted to stop working.  The team and I were so into it that when it got dark, we pulled up our cars to the practice area, put on our lights, and continued to work.  All of us could smell success in the coming weeks; we knew we were going to blow away the other players.

            Sections, the tournament that decided who would advance to state, was finally here.  Although I was sick the previous day, today I was feeling great.  The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of the creek running through the course, and feeling I got when you know you are in the middle of some of the best competition of your life, made this day all the more memorable.  Even though I was ready for state, and it was something I had wanted for so long, I realized that I was up against nearly one-hundred of guys with the same story.  I was different though, and I was going to be better.

            As I was stepping up to the tee box, I could hear the talking of teammates, and the sound of clubs clashing together as the golfers walked down the fairway.  There were birds singing, leaves crackling, and yet it was silent.  I didn’t care about the distractions, and like that, they were gone.  I only heard one thing: “I really do expect you to be playing next week.”   As my first ball splashed into the pond, I wondered if perhaps this was not meant to be.  Now, the singing birds sounded of a high-pitched screech,  and the crackling sound of leaves were getting in my head.  However, as I continued on, nothing was going well.  My game was letting me down.  I lost a ball that was as good a shot that I had hit all day (I still believe that another golfer mistook it for his ball), and I even missed a putt that was shorter than minute hand on my watch.  Unfortunately, as my game fell apart, so did my confidence.

            Upon arriving to the club house, I was informed that I have missed the cut by three strokes.  For a while, every time I looked back I thought about all of the mistakes I had made, and if I had not done them, would I have gone to state?  That lost ball was two strokes already, and the stubbed put would have made the difference.  That was most upset I have been at myself to this day, but I now understand how unimportant it was.  Looking back on the season, I realized I as good enough to go to state.  I set the low score for my team all but twice, and I medaled in two meets.  I shot an 80 at Lake City, which is better than most previous golfers at our school had even shot there.  As I realized that my hard work had paid after all, I decided to put that much effort into my life.  I worked harder at school, and even at my job.  Because of that, I earned more scholarships than I could have predicted, and even got a promotion at my job this summer.  Throughout the summer, I placed fourth against the best golfers in high school in the La Crosse county area, twice.  I also placed third in my final of those tournaments, earning my second golf medal of my life.  I also placed second in my flight at my club championship, one stroke off Boomer, who is nearly a legend at our course.  So although I did not go to state, I earned so many more qualities.  Better work-ethic, honesty, and perseverance. 

            I had one chance to go to state, and I did not make it.  Quite frankly, I am okay with that.  I worked hard to make it to state, and even though I did not make it, the work was not wasted.  Not only did I improve my game, but I learned what it is like to fail.  Failure is not something I had significantly experienced before sections, and it has taught me a lot.  I learned to persevere and learn from my mistakes.  I have improved my work ethic and increased my chances of succeeding next time.  I have many years ahead of me, and more golf to play.  So when I do well, or not so well, I will always have the memory of sections in the back of my mind, and that will always keep me going.

Being Qualified Might Help

                “I guess the transport officer got sidetracked, and that’s all it took…The juvenile was handcuffed with his wrists secured to a belt and his ankles were shackled.”  This was Houston County Sherriff Doug Ely’s response to the recent escape of a juvenile.  “He bolted down the stairs, out of the court house and disappeared…I was told even though he was shackled, he could run like a deer.”  (Warner 2).  As reported in this week’s issue of the Caledonia Argus, a seventeen year old juvenile was being transported to the Houston County court house from Red Wing where he was being held.  While in the building, the juvenile ran through and out the court house and went into hiding.  After an hour, he was discovered in an abandoned upstairs apartment in the city. 

                I will admit that I found this article quite humorous when I read it.  Quite frankly, most people would.  When I think about it though, it makes me wonder what would have happened if this juvenile had been a serial killer or rapist.  I for one would not have confidence in my local police.  If a criminal could escape through the whole court house and into the city, while chained up, what does that say about the qualifications of our law enforcement?  Are they qualified?  The same could be said for a few teachers as well.  I have had, and currently do, teachers that just don’t teach well enough to satisfy the students’ needs.  Although teachers teach in many different styles, there are some that simply don’t do their job well enough.  Some people just don’t seem right for a job, and there should be stricter regulations for certain professions.

                The other day I briefly talked to a security guard at Western.  I simply asked how he was doing and talked about the weather.  As he left, I realized that he was old.  Not mid-forties, but in his late fifties or more.  If someone had robbed a teacher, I wouldn’t put my money on the officer catching the criminal.  Another officer at Western I saw was not obese, but not in the best of shape.  I wouldn’t count on him to chase down a criminal either.  After these observations, I did a little research and found that sixteen percent of Sacramento deputies were considered obese.  Why?  It may have something to do with the fact that there are no physical requirements for being a police officer in terms of strength and fitness.  One officer, when confronted with this statistic, stated that with long and stressful officers and often having to eat while on patrol, fitness is the last thing of many officers’ minds.  This, however, makes a key part of their job (protecting the public) harder. 

                Another profession in which some people are not qualified is teaching.  Although I have had a good experience with most of my teachers, there are a few that simply don’t belong in the teaching world.  One high school teacher would walk into the class and tell her students to read from the text book.  When we were done, she would tell us to read it again so that we really comprehended it.  While we read, or at least pretended to, she would be at her computer typing away. This was a daily routine, and only once in a while would we get a quiz or test.  Naturally grades in the class were well below average because she never taught us anything.  Then is occurred to me that if she hardly ever gave quizzes or tests, then what could she be doing on her computer all day?  Anyway I ended up with a C- in that class, and I am usually on the honor roll.  I only managed to squeeze in a C-because she made some tests open book or open notebook.  A current teacher tries hard to teach and although he tries, we students, for the most part, are not doing well.  The tests are hard and I am below average in that class.  Perhaps a simple teaching workshop would do him well.  In both classes I have talked to other students and it is almost unanimous that the teacher needs to improve his or her teaching methods. 

                I am aware that jobs are often stressful and difficult, but that’s part of the work.  If I am willing to work harder in class by studying more, then the teacher should ask students ways to improve teaching ways.  If I pay taxes towards public protection, then officers should be physically capable of doing their job.  Work is more that doing what is written in a job description, it is preparing you for doing those jobs well.  Maybe then I will be more confident in those professionals.