Believe

Howard "H" White is an author, motivational speaker and SVP of Brand Jordan. He is also the founder of the "Believe To Achieve" foundation, Nike.

I had never heard of Mr. White until last night. I was scrolling through my podcast list, per my usual nightly habit, and I came across his interview with one of my faves - The Pivot Podcast. They never disappoint. I think one of the reasons they never miss is because their approach to enlisting information comes from three very distinct personalities: Ryan Clark, who is even-keeled and compassionate; Channing Crowder, whose behavior is often inappropriate, saying and asking anything; and Fred Taylor, who is a very thoughtful, humble, and pensive character.

Mr. White had so many amazing stories about his childhood, his short-lived basketball career, his introduction to Nike, and his take on some extremely noteworthy players. His exceptional life was brought about because he had the uncanny ability to believe whatever positive information he was fed.

He believed it when a coach told him he could be the next Oscar Robertson, even when he knew he wasn't a great player. He believed he could write his first manuscript as an adult because a high school teacher told him his papers were so riveting that she took them home and read them to her husband. He rounded out one such story by saying that sometimes you have to be dumb enough to listen to people who see more in you than you see in yourself.

Not many people know the tale of my high school years. Perhaps that is another blog for another day. What is relevant at this moment is this: I had two teachers in high school that had a profound effect on my life. The first one was Ms. Silva. She was my English teacher, and she also introduced me to the world of journalism. Ms. Silva often turned a blind eye to my antics, and, to this day, I am not sure why.

The second was Mr. Bettis. He taught a few different subjects, and I was always miserable when I wasn't in one of his classes. When I was a senior, I was having the worst time with my LEAST favorite subject, math. I would often ditch the class altogether or be so disruptive that I got kicked out. I would then just mosey on over to Mr. Bettis's class and sit in there. He never kicked me out and never asked me what was going on. He would just smile when I entered the door and made me feel welcome.

As my visits to his class increased, Mr. Bettis somehow convinced my math teacher and the principal that he would ensure that I passed the class if they allowed me to accomplish the work sitting in his classroom. When I talked to Mr. Bettis and tried to find out how/why he was able and willing to pull off this extraordinary feat, he didn't expound on it. Instead, he put both of his hands on my shoulders and said, "Sunshine,” –which is what he always called me– “you're going to make it!"

I hadn't thought about that moment in years. Until last night. Mr. White reminded me that, in that instance, I was dumb enough to listen to someone who saw more in me than I saw in myself.

I kept in touch with Mr. Bettis and would visit him often as an adult. He was really proud of all I had accomplished. Although he passed a few years ago, he touched many, many lives along his journey. And I can see that smile, even now.