Winners and Losers

(This is a commemorative speech I just wrote for my public speaking class...)

I’ll never forget the first time I met Devin. He was 20, I was 16. At 6’5”, he towered over me. He approached me rather abruptly and with intensity. He started to ask me multiple, completely random questions: did I like swimming? Was I right handed or left handed? Or, my personal favorite, how did I feel about mayonnaise? I was honestly uncomfortable. I didn’t know exactly how to respond. Luckily, a woman came and diverted his attention back to his school work he was supposed to be doing. I learned that Devin was autistic, and was in a special program for teens with autism. Devin challenged me that day, and I felt it was my turn to challenge myself. So, right then and there, I rather impulsively filled out an application to become a tutor within the program.

Over the next two years, I became Devin’s personal tutor. I spent every weekday with him, and as much as I taught him, he taught me more. What I immediately admired about Devin was his confidence – he approached me that first day with such assurance in himself, an assurance that most high school students often didn’t possess. Devin was himself, 100% of the time. And although he was often obsessive, socially-awkward and incoherent, he was shameless about it. No one should be afraid to be themselves, and Devin certainly reinforced that belief into me. Not only that, but Devin also proved to be one of the most compassionate people I’ve come to know. He fostered a genuine concern about everyone around him. His habit of asking obsessive, random questions proved just that – he wanted to get to know everyone and really become their friend.

Devin quickly became more than just “the boy I tutored”. He became my friend.

Regardless, I don’t think I really fully appreciated Devin until one specific day. You see, everyday, Devin and I went to a PE class, where they played individual sports (in teams). We played badminton, ping pong, bowling, etc. Unfortunately, every single game, we lost. Devin was a good sport though, and insisted on shaking the hands of his opponents congratulating their win. One day, after losing, he went to shake a boy’s hand. The boy, in turn, looked at Devin with disgust, and responded with a rather rude rendition of “no”. I was angered beyond belief, and after telling the other boy I found his actions unacceptable, me and Devin began to walk back to his class. On the way back, I apologized to Devin, on behalf of the boy. Devin responded that it was ok, he said the boy was simply a bad winner. I agreed, then Devin stated that he was the best loser ever. He kept repeating, over and over again, that he was a better loser than all the kids in his class. He was starting to annoy me and I snapped at him to stop it – there were a lot of good losers in the world besides him as well. Finally, he screamed at me, and this, I will never forget: he said he was the best loser because he lost the most in life.

This stung. Maybe because, until this day, I never gave Devin, or the Devin’s of the world, enough credit. Devin lost every sports game he played, yet he still played and put forth all his effort, even though it went for naught. And he did so with enthusiasm, a positive attitude, and sportsmanship that I had never before witnessed. But it wasn’t limited to this trivial PE class; this was how Devin lived his life. He would never drive a car. He would never go to college. He would never live alone. But Devin is one of the most persistent people I have come to know. Whereas many people would quit, Devin kept going. As I came to work with other autistic teens, I saw many of them even stare in the eye adversity and back down, out of embarrassment or fear. But my friend Devin was bigger than this. Like the boy that refused to shake his hand, many kids had made fun of Devin during his life. But Devin’s attitude was always positive, and I can’t say enough about how much I admired him. People like Devin often do lose in life, more than me, and more than many of you. But their ability to move past that with persistence and positivity make them the biggest winners of all.

Cookies on the Line

Quick tidbit I wanted to share that totally brightened my day:

At work, I bought cookies for the kids. I let them have two, which most kids were completely fine with. Except for Joe. Oh, Joe. He's such a cute and fun kid...he's a second grader, red hair, with a crazy love for food and a whole lot of sass.

He asked for another cookie (a third) after having devoured the previous cookies in a bite and a half. When I told him no, he rolled his eyes, and immediately started complaining, pointing out that there was enough left for him to have another. He continued to keep pestering me on the issue, with his determined, unrelenting nature I see so often (especially if there's any sweets involved). Finally, after what seemed like the 32nd time he had said "but why not?" I retorted with "NO JOE. Life's tough, isn't it?"

He slammed back in his chair, crossed his chubby little arms, sighed, and said "Yeah, especially when there's delicious cookies on the line".

I had to laugh. Truer words were never spoken.

22 days away

My date to defend my thesis is officially set: March 28th. My mom is coming out to see me present, which I am incredibly happy about. It will mean a lot to have her there. She'll get to meet my professor, help calm me down the night before as I freak out and see all my work come to fruition. I couldn't be happier.

I'm frantically scrambling to finish it...and hope that it will be totally completed by this Friday. Ok, or maybe Saturday.

While it is exciting that the end is so near, it is also kind of terrifying. After working on the project for over a year, I feel like it's become such a part of me. What am I going to do without constantly worrying about it? What will my bookshelf look like without the 30 library book I've used for the project? What will I read now that I am not constantly engrossed in books with titles such as "European Jewry in the Age of Mercantilism" or "The Anti-Christ in Seventeenth-Century England"?

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself; after all I still have to relinquish control and call my paper "COMPLETE". And then of course I have the daunting task of squeezing a 50 page paper into a 30 minute speech.

I now understand why it takes people years and years to finish writing a book- the perfectionist in me doesn't want to call it "complete" when I always feel like there's a way I could make it better.

I talk to other people working on their thesis and they are ecstatic of the prospect of being finished. I feel like a nerd, but for me, it's bittersweet. It's like parting with a child (ok, maybe I'm getting a little over-dramatic...) Yes, I'll be so proud to be done, but the process was honestly so fun and rewarding and it's sad that it's coming to an end. I got to work with a professor who I admire and respect so much. I got to work with three other students working on similar projects and get help, support and advice from them. I got to dedicate myself completely to a single project, which is the first time in my academic career that I have been able to do that. I got to research something so fascinating and watch it transform into something I didn't even foresee when I started. My ideas regarding my rabbi, Menasseh ben Israel, and the issue of toleration constantly changed as I researched more and more. Actually my professor told me that one of the things he admires most about me is my ability to always question my thoughts in this project. I'm open minded, and not afraid to changing routes. When I started the project, I planned on arguing a completely different point. About five book in, I changed my mind and was convinced otherwise. From there on I constantly tweaked my stance as I researched more and more. Which is good; learning should do that. Learning should allow you to question yourself and your preconceived notions. And this process simply reinforced that belief.

I'm sure I'll post when it's completed and submitted. If anyone is interested, I would love for you to read it. Again, it's not light reading so to speak (it weighs in at approximately 50 pages) but I'm proud of it, and would love the opportunity for others to see it, and see what a years worth of work has resulted in. Anyways, I obviously won't be posting it here (it's over 12,000 words, and I'm pretty sure blogger wouldn't allow it in a single post) but let me know and I'd be ecstatic to email it to anyone and everyone.