The Size of Your Dreams by - (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📖

I intend to mow $1000 worth of lawns between November 13 and December 13. To accomplish this, I will do the following:

“Got it. But why the 13th? Today is only the 12th.”

“I’m glad to hear the change in your voice and to see you’re willing to go along. As a result, I’ve decided to give you a bit of a reprieve. With Christy, we needed to move quickly. With you, we have a little extra time to play with, so I’m going to delay starting your 30 day period to give you one more element of the process.

“For today, write nothing more. Your homework, Jarod, is to think of all the steps you can take to reach the $1000 goal in one month. I want the rest of you to do the same, to brainstorm any advice you can give Jarod to help him reach his goal.”

* * *

I barely slept that night. The filming for Christy went well, far better than I thought. I don’t know if it was because she introduced me, or because I was just the guy behind the camera, but the entire team accepted me right away.

I planned to video whatever Christy wanted me to record. But it became immediately clear that she had no idea what she wanted the video to look like, nor how to make a video go viral. Her co-captain Jill just shrugged, equally clueless.

I ventured a couple of suggestions, and they seemed happy to let me do what I wanted. No, not happy, thrilled.

“I’m so relieved you’re here,” Christy had said. I, of course, totally blushed again.

With half an hour left in practice, I’d already gotten all of the emotional shots done. I had more than enough film of the girls talking about their coach, talking about their vision. When everyone went along with my more conventional suggestions, I got a bit more bold, only to find that I got no pushback on those ideas either.

I spent the rest of the time taking fun shots, hoping to make the film entertaining enough that coaches would want to pass it on.

I finished the editing at 5 am. I left my computer to complete the rendering process and passed out for a couple of hours of well-deserved sleep.

* * *

“Whose idea was it to put arm floats on the freshmen?” Jarod asked. We all stood huddled around my laptop watching the completed video.

“Kelvin’s. Of course.” Christy shot me a bemused smile that I gratefully returned.

“I thought it would be a funny way of showing how they’re struggling to bring the new girls along without a coach.”

“Very clever,” Mr. Griffin said. “The more viral the video, the easier time you’ll have finding a coach. Have you sent it to anyone, Christy?”

“Not yet. Kelvin just finished it this morning. But I did speak to five more coaches yesterday. One actually called me back from a voicemail I’d left.”

“Anyone else say yes?”

“Actually two more did. One asked me to video a practice and promised to send feedback.”

“That’s great. And the other?”

Christy puffed out her chest. “The coach of the US Olympic team took my call. He said he’d do whatever he could to help us out.”

Jarod shook his head. “People always say stuff like that. Did he offer anything?”

Christy shoved her face in his. “Actually, Mr. Attitude Problem, he did. He’s going to be in the area in January, and he offered to attend one of our practices.” “Fantastic,” Mr. Griffin said. “The best coaches often teach more in a few hours than an average coach can teach in a year.”

“There’s more.” Christy danced in her seat. “He told me to send him our video, and promised to send it around and post it on his Facebook page.”

“Nicely done, Christy.” Mr. Griffin high-fived her. “Now, if everyone will take their seats, I want to hear how you did on last night’s homework.”

“Homework?” Darnell asked.

“You were all supposed to brainstorm ways to help Jarod mow $1000 worth of lawns in the next month. What did you come up with?”

“I’ve actually been thinking about it,” Jarod said, “and I’ve come up with a few ideas.”

“Go, Jarod!” Christy said.

“I want to hear all of your ideas,” Mr. Griffin said, “but not yet. First I want to hear from your classmates. Anyone?”

Silence filled the room.

“Nothing?” Mr. Griffin raised an eyebrow. “I’ll admit I expected this group to take homework a bit more seriously. You did hear me give you all the assignment to brainstorm ideas for Jarod, did you not?”

I’d worked so hard on the swim team’s video that this other assignment completely slipped my mind. I deliberately avoided looking at Jarod, but in the corner of my eye, I could see his head slump.

“Maybe he could call the 20 greatest mowers in the world?” Christy teased.

“Thanks a lot, Christy,” Jarod replied.

“Sometimes even jokes contain wisdom,” Mr. Griffin said. “There’s hardly a profession on earth that doesn’t have its failures and its millionaires. Many of those who today own multi-million dollar landscaping businesses started out just like you, mowing one lawn at a time. Joking or not, Christy is right that one of those people could almost certainly give you advice that would take you years to work out on your own. Anyone else?”

“On a more serious note,” Christy said, “what if you printed out a flyer and put it in people’s mailbox?”

“Actually,” Jarod cut in, “I already—.”

“Not yet, Jarod. I want you to listen first. Who else has an idea for Jarod?”

“What if you went around the neighborhood looking for homes with totally overgrown lawns?” Darnell said. “They might be more likely to hire you.”

“Could be.” Jarod made a note.

It would have been so easy last night to do a few Google searches on successful landscaping practices. Instead, I forgot all about it and let Jarod down. Why? What had gotten us all so excited about Christy’s goal that was missing in Jarod’s? Then it hit me. It was her story. The murdered coach, the dream of becoming champions. It was compelling.

“What about your story?” I asked.

“My story? I’m a guy who mows lawns.”

“I know. But…” I closed my eyes and tried to find the right words. “It’s like…”

“What?” Jarod demanded.

“Go on, Kelvin,” Mr. Griffin said. “You’ve got something. Take as long as you need.”

I got to my feet and began pacing, as if the desk was somehow constraining my thoughts. “Christy thought she was just a girl on a swim team looking for a coach. As Mr. Griffin said, if she called all of these famous coaches and said, ‘do you know anyone willing to coach some girls for free?’ they all would have laughed at her. But making the video, it occurred to me how much stronger her true story is. It’s a story that when coaches hear it, they immediately want to help. I bet they can’t help wonder what would happen to their own teams if they were suddenly killed. That’s got to awaken something in them.”

“It’s a good story,” Jarod said, “but how does it help me? I’m still just a guy who mows lawns.”

“I know you are,” I said, “but a week ago, Christy was just a girl who swims. The story was sitting there the whole time, but we couldn’t see it. Mr. Griffin had to stick it in our face before any of us knew it was there. Could there be a great story lurking there for you too?”

“Like what?” The tension in Jarod’s voice made me hesitate. He was not a guy I wanted to pick a fight with.

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you want to mow lawns to go to college. Maybe people will feel better about paying you if they’re not just thinking about their lawns, but also where the money will go?”

Jarod’s foot jittered on the tiled floor, and he chewed the inside of his cheek. He was at least thinking over what I just said.

Out of words, I felt like an idiot standing up before the class, and quickly retook my seat.

“I’m glad you got that out, Kelvin,” Mr. Griffin said. “There’s more wisdom in your words than you realize.” He paced up and down