A digital painting of a young man working on a laptop at a desk in a dark bedroom at night, the warm glow of the screen lighting his face. Through a window, a quiet rural landscape stretches into the distance with an empty road and faint industrial lights, while ghostly classroom desks and a school building fade into the background.

Not a single teacher motivated us to shoot for the stars

ByTC Marti

“Shoot for the stars” was one of the most motivating recurring phrases I’ve ever heard. And not a single teacher I had told me it was possible. 

I’ve often joked that my middle (and high school) were further in the middle of nowhere than the Canadian Tire Centre, home of the NHL’s Ottawa Senators. Check out that place on a satellite map, and you’ll know what I’m talking about.

My old schools were so far out there that they acted as the main employer for the towns they resided in. They were so far out in the sticks and in such a blue-collar area, teachers assumed you’d hang around. You’d either work for the district or join the workforce in a trade, and get on with your life.

Shoot for something big and they’d either scoff or use the “reality” card on you. For an ambitious guy like me, their B.S. was a confidence killer for years. Or, one of many confidence killers.

Shoot for the stars wasn’t a viable option for these people

Our teachers needed us to pass standardized tests so the school could get more funding, and so they could keep getting three months off, among other benefits. Other than that, they wanted us out of their hair.

One of my sixth-grade teachers even said to us, “You’re here so you fulfill requirements to get a job.” Beyond passing standardized tests, of course. Clearly, they were talking about graduating with a high school diploma. That same teacher also talked about paying taxes and dying, as if they’d be our only roles in life.

Oh, also in the sixth grade, I wasn’t TC Marti! I was R-17. That was my number and my identity for an entire year. I never put my name on a paper. I put R-17. If I got in trouble and had to “put my name on the board,” it was R-17. When I presented something, I was R-17. Talk about dehumanizing kids.

One high school teacher went as far as to say we’d never amount to anything, so we may as well enjoy “the best years of our lives.” That same soul had no problem telling the class that I ask a lot of stupid questions. Yeah, my old district hired these people for its classrooms.

I once worked for a macho man at a steel packaging warehouse who nobody cared for. Even he said, “There’s no such thing as a stupid question.” He may’ve been an absolute dick who demoralized his employees, but he had something going for him.

Spinning adversity into motivation

The Arcane Prophecy by TC MartiAs I often say, I’m glad I went through the public school system. Not because it gave me a high-quality education; every second I spent there was a second wasted.

But damn, did it motivate me to be better than they thought. I’m not sure if the college prep kids got the same debilitating treatment (I stopped taking college prep in the 11th grade). But it doesn’t matter. These people spat on us every time they got a chance.

So, I thought I’d shoot for the stars in multiple avenues, straight from a freaking laptop. No, not to show them. Just to prove to myself it’s possible. The laptop lifestyle. Not slaving away like they said I would.

That’s why I write fiction, among other endeavors. And there’s one book out there with a protagonist who’ll motivate the hell out of you. Catch the first three chapters of her story, and brace yourself for one hell of a character arc.

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