Blank Sheets

When I was 17, I completed the German Realschule with an intermediate secondary school certificate after the 10th grade. Like all the students in my year, I received my diploma from our principal at some kind of graduation ceremony. It was, of course, nothing like those events in the US or Britain, where you can see students lining up in ceremonial robes to be handed their diplomas as part of some kind of official rite de passage.

No. It was much more humble than that. Just some ordinary students in some ordinary place—which I do not even remember exactly—receiving their diplomas from a very ordinary-looking principal in a worn-out suit and the obligatory tie.

To me, he handed the diploma with the words: “Congratulations, Jens. I didn’t think you would make it.” 

I will never forget these words. Mainly because, even back then, I found them unnecessarily harsh. 

Indeed, it was a thoroughly mediocre diploma (GPA 2.9 according to the German grading scale, where 1.0 is the highest and 6.0 the lowest) from a thoroughly mediocre school in a thoroughly mediocre German town. But it was not a particularly bad diploma either. Although, under normal circumstances, earning it would not have been particularly difficult.

Yet he had a point. During the last years, I had not been entirely certain that I would graduate either. In fact, just two years earlier, I had been told that I would have to repeat ninth grade—and not by a narrow margin. I had failed spectacularly, receiving failing grades in more than half of my classes.

To be fair, I had missed nearly two months of school after being involved in a serious car accident. The whole affair had been as spectacular as it was stupid and—as so often when these two words come together in the life of a young man—women had been involved.

I had spent the afternoon with two good friends. I was exhilarated because I had a date the following day. And not just some ordinary date! No, a girl on whom I had had a crush for what at the time felt like an eternity had finally agreed to go to the cinema with me. This was a big thing! And on that day, my whole world revolved around it. It occupied my mind so completely that I felt an urgent need to tell everyone about it.

Especially, I had to tell the two girls whom I had known since primary school and who—for God knows what reason—happened to be standing on the other side of the narrow street when I quickly left the building where my friends and I had spent the afternoon.

I still remember how the car hit me.

Most of all, I remember that I did not feel any pain.

According to the police records, the accident happened so suddenly that the driver was unable to slow down significantly. As a result, the car hit me at approximately 60 kilometres per hour. I was thrown through the air and finally came to a stop 18 metres from the point of impact.

But that’s not all. When I think about this event nowadays, what baffles me even more is the fact that I came to a stop on the other side of the road—where another car was approaching. 

But apparently, at that point, my somewhat clumsy guardian angel had been awakened by the sound of the shattered windshield of the first car and somehow managed to stop the second car just in time. In my mind, I would not be writing these lines today if he had not.

Thankfully, young bodies seem to be rather resilient. I shattered the tibia in my right leg and hit my head somewhere, receiving a cut that bled impressively. But apart from that, I was rather fine. All things considered, I would say that the outcome was not too bad.

My leg was fixed with a titanium nail, which I carried inside the bone for roughly two years and which I still possess today. I had to spend two weeks in hospital, and it took me about two months to learn how to walk again. And, as already mentioned, I missed about two months of school.

The result was that from that point on I actively planned on repeating the school year. I never studied for any test. I did not do any homework. And whenever we had to write some kind of exam, I simply handed in blank sheets of paper.

I never went on that date.

Yes, the girl did visit me in hospital for a couple of minutes, but I hardly think that this counts—especially because the somewhat broken condition I was in was hardly conducive to making the best impression.

Looking back, I think I learned several things from all of this.

For starters, I learned that everything can be taken from you in an instant. 

Thankfully, I did not die on that day. But instead of going on what was, at least to me, a very important date, I woke up in hospital in so much pain that, at the time, I wished I had died.

I also learned that people often do not care about reasons. 

The girl never went on that date with me, even though my reason for missing our first appointment was rather understandable. And my principal at the graduation ceremony simply saw a very mediocre student who had failed one year spectacularly and had barely managed to crawl across the finish line.

But most importantly, I think I learned that effort makes a big difference.

I only turned out to be the worst student in that particular year at this very mediocre school because I basically did nothing.

Years later, I would graduate top of my year. I did that because I wanted to see what was possible if I put as much effort into studying as I could.

In essence, I think it comes down to a simple truth. You do not have everything under your control. But focusing on those things that you do have under your control can get you quite far.