Life has a weird way of teaching lessons. When I walked out my front door one sunny afternoon and shook hands with the aged, stout driving instructor on my driveway, I expected to exchange polite small talk with him during the two hours we would spend on the road together. The only lesson I ever expected to be learning was how to parallel park without knocking over one of those pesky neon cones. Instead, I found myself enraged in a bitter argument with my instructor, continuously shaking my head in astounded disapproval at the words he uttered to me.
Things were normal when I first started driving the car. Upon exiting my neighborhood, my instructor did the honors of starting causal conversation by asking me how my day went. I began to recount a funny story that had happened earlier that morning involving my friend and me. When I was done, he informed me that he couldn’t understand a word I was saying as he was an old man by the age of 60, and I was rambling way too fast. I laughed and responded, “I get that a lot.” In a courteous manner, I repeated the story at a slower pace, and when he still couldn’t comprehend, I repeated it ever slower. When he told me I was still speaking at an inaudibly fast speed, I joked, “My clarinet teacher is seven years older than you are, and he understands me perfectly fine! But don’t worry, I don’t mind repeating the story again if you want.”
At this point, the old man’s tone changed into one that gave the air between us a harsh vibe. He told me he didn’t like it when I compared him to my clarinet teacher. He then proceeded to lecture me for 10 minutes on why comparing people was rudely unrighteous and why I, as well as everyone else on planet Earth, should never compare people. He even pointed out that I would be hurt if he compared me to other teenage drivers he had taught before.
I scrunched my eyebrows. Although he was surely overreacting, the guy had a point. I responded by saying yes, comparing was wrong, but the reality of the matter is that comparisons amongst individuals remain an unavoidable factor in society. I illustrated the fact that the ideologies and leadership qualities of presidential candidates are constantly being compared by the eyes and ears of the public. I reasoned that the resumes of job applicants are compared to others aiming for the same position. I even challenged him to go ahead and compare me to his previous drivers – I was immune to feeling pain from that sort of statement as my parents (just like most other parents) have compared me countless of times to my peers.
I was quite pleased with my reasoning and felt an odd excitement balling up in my body in anticipation for what he would counter-argue next. Instead of providing a logical response with valid examples, he scoffed in a condescending tone, “I am 60 years old. That’s 60 whole years of experience, which makes me an expert on life. And how old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
He followed up with a mocking laugh, as if my age alone was a laughing matter.
If this had happened a year ago, a month ago, even the day before, I would’ve left the conversation at that and continued driving in uneasy silence. Even though it bothered me that the old man could so readily label himself a so-called expert on life, as if age alone could guarantee that title, the past version of me would’ve nodded my head and dare not speak back. All my life I was intimidated by adults, invalidating my opinions in blind agreement when I conversed with them for the sake of gaining their approval. But at that very moment, I felt an unfamiliar fire coursing through my veins, feeding my adrenaline, and itching the back of my throat, urging me to defend my stance. The fire was fueled further by the anger I felt when he had disrespected me because of my age. And with that, I replied with all the courage I could fit into my 16-year-old body, “Fine. You have more experience than me. But by no means does that translate to you being a so-called expert on life. For example, doctors go through years of medical school, training and internships to gain that title. When you call yourself an expert, don’t you think that invalidates their rightfully-earned title? And what about everyone else who has lived up to 60 years and even beyond? Are they all experts, too? If so, then explain why there are criminals above the age of 60?” My driving instructor tried retaliating some of my questions, but was unable to make any legitimate counter-arguments. At this point, I figured the discussion was done, and hoped that instead of being childish, we could resume to driving in peace.
Throughout the rest of the driving lesson, I would ask questions, such as, “How do you gauge whether the car is three feet from the cones?” and “How can I tell if the car is perfectly straight?” Each time my instructor answered my endless stream of questions, he would end each response with, “Of course, when you get to be an expert like me, you’ll just know.” At this point, I couldn’t believe the immaturity in this man who claimed to be a "life expert." Even when he had clearly lost the argument, he just couldn’t let go. Even though I was “only 16,” I realized that fighting just wasn’t worth it, and each time the “e” word rolled off his tongue, I would have to take the role of the older one between us two and just ever-so-slightly shake my head in disapproval instead of intensifying the fight.
When the two-hour session finally drew to a close, I pulled back into my neighborhood and parked the car onto my driveway where my father was waiting. Both my driving instructor and I hopped out of the vehicle to discuss what I had learned during the lesson with my father as per driving school policy. After briefly apprising my parallel parking skills, my instructor took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He stated to my father, “Look, I’ve been teaching driving for three years now. I’m very experienced in this matter. So, would you say I’m an expert?”
My eyeballs flickered a fiery red. He still couldn’t let go of the damn title! He hissed the "e" word like a venomous snake, letting the word evaporate syllable-by-syllable off his tongue. After my slightly confused father responded with a chuckle and a yes, the old man looked me dead in the eyes and asked, “Would you say I’m an expert?”
My brain had to move fast. I had two options. I could agree and never forgive myself for allowing the pressure of the situation to sway my stance, or I could disagree and probably start a full-blown fight in front of my own house. I took a deep breath and made the mature decision that wouldn’t cause me to sacrifice anything.
“No comment.”
When my father and I got back into the house, I furiously gave an account of the conversation that had occurred in the car with the man he had just called an “expert.” I yelled, I cursed, I paced as the flame inside of me only multiplied with each passing minute. At the end of my rant, my father had the guts to do the unthinkable: He laughed and said, "Well, it's not like you get a prize or anything for getting your thoughts out there."
Doused in rage, I sprinted up the stairs and into my room, steam shooting out of my ears and nostrils. Why was this happening to me? I laid on my bed to ponder the situation. I knew my father was right about not winning anything, but I also was a firm believer that some people came into my life as blessings, and those who weren't blessings came as life lessons.
My stubborn driving instructor was actually a mine full of riches, full of sparkling nuggets of wisdom. I realized for the first time that the cliché of “age is just a number” was strikingly true. You can be 16 and choose to be more mature, or you can be 60 and choose to not let go of the tiniest of matters. I registered that some elders, such as my grandmother at 90, can still be young at heart, and some 60 year olds can decide to be bitter and cold. More importantly I realized this, and this is what I want everyone in the world to know.
Every individual, young or old, holds an inborn opinion. No matter who you’re against, no matter how small you feel, you must hold on to that cherished opinion. Cherish it and voice it enough, so you never forget it, so you never let it drift into the wind when you try to fit in with others’ beliefs or when you back down from your metaphorical podium. Like I’ve said before, the old me would’ve felt intimidated in the presence of my driving instructor and just agreed that he was an expert for the sake of simply agreeing as it seemed right to abide. But, it isn’t! It’s never right to blindly sway this way and that, even if it seems as if everyone in society does so. The most influential game-changers of the world, for example Martin Luther King, Jr. or Susan B. Anthony, didn’t sway with society’s traditional customs and, instead, grasped on tightly to their cherished opinions. They fought for their beliefs with reasoning and refused to accept defeat. How did they have the insane levels of courage to stand up for their inborn opinions in front of the entire nation? They started small, with baby steps, and during that driving lesson, I took my first baby step. I know I didn’t change the world by refusing to agree with the old man. I didn’t win anything. But, if I can’t stand up to some old 60-year-old, I can’t fathom using my opinions to better society. With the achievement of this one miniscule act, I hope to continue on this path of standing up for my beliefs, taking bigger steps each time to hopefully making change for the better in my community. I didn’t back down this one time, and I never will again. I challenge every individual with an opinion to walk with me on this path, and eventually, society will see a better tomorrow. Here’s a helpful tip: Don't be afraid to start small.
With that, I want to re-address my father’s comment: I did win a prize. I won a lesson, and I hope to share that nugget of wisdom with the entire world.
