Authenticity

a memorable experience at Stuyvesant.

April 27, 2001. A familiar face greets my crooked smile; a friendly wave beckons me to walk inside. Cautiously, I peer into the English office and glance around. After squirming at the door for nearly two minutes, I agree to sit beside him on the bench. Because he is the one person who never judges me, who never fails to support and motivate me, who never expects less from me than my very best, a sense of calm surrounds me when confiding in him. Easing into deep conversation, we delve into college concerns.
      “I hope that whatever decision you make, it will be authentic.”
       To be authentic is to be content, to be confident, to be courageous. Despite this ideal, fear causes me to shy away from my convictions and avoid risks. Perhaps I am afraid of making the “wrong” choice, scared of disappointing others by settling for the “safer” alternative. As I listen to his words of encouragement and reassurance and guidance, I realize a simple truth—my life, my way. Throughout the past year and a half, he has given me the strength I need to be proud of my decisions and myself.
       I have discovered authenticity in me.
       With almost four years of Stuyvesant to look back upon and four more to look forward to at Boston College, I take these small talks and accompanying lessons with me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have a chance to meet my Morrie—someone who teaches me the profoundness of patience and perception, who inspires me to be more than I can fathom, who makes the light in me shine brighter than ever. He is such a person.
       While the warning bell rings, signaling the end of fourth period, two people walk by. A colleague acknowledges him with a cheerful nod, “Hi Eric”; a student greets him with arms waving, “Hey Mr. Grossman!” For the many titles he responds to—teacher, mentor, advisor—none other fits him more perfectly than friend.