Take a look at me now there’s just an empty space and you coming back to me is against all odds and that’s what I’ve got to face’ ... Phil Collins, Against All Odds. We never get to hear how that story finally panned out. Did the person return? Did the odds win out in the end?
What are the options when faced with insurmountable odds? Only two, some say: Curl up, lie down and give in; or, rise up and take on the mountain, as it were. When Geeta’s dad says to his 15-year-old daughter: “Take a rest, you can finish your homework in the morning,” he is not being a laid-back parent. It is concern that speaks. He is watching, with growing anxiety, his daughter put one foot before the other, determinedly, as she scales her personal Everest. It is a huge challenge before her. She knows it and her dad does too. There are days when, on the upward climb, she runs out of breath, feels dizzy like a mountaineer battling oxygen deficiency, but after steadying a few moments, she is off again, despite the advice to slow down. Some say that when the finiteness of life is presented before us, some realisation dawns and we humans then try to pack in as much achievement into every remaining minute.
A few months ago, a doctor did exactly that. After wading through incomprehensible utterances typical of medical men, he spelled it out in layman terms: Six months! Two shocked parents sat opposite and absorbed the verdict. Muscular dystrophy. They had both heard of it, but never realised that some forms could be life threatening. In the evening, when they had composed themselves sufficiently, they broke it gently to their daughter. Here, too, they had an option: To tell or not to tell. They chose the former because they felt their daughter had a right to know.
Two months later, both parents are seated proudly in the school auditorium. Out of the corner of the eye they can see Geeta, lined up with a special selection of students. It is academic award’s day. All class toppers and achievers in particular areas of specialisation are in line for kudos: Certificates, cups, medals, books. And there’s one significant award given to a pupil from anywhere in the school who achieves success “against all odds”. Geeta sits poised in her motorised wheel chair, waiting. Her name is due to be announced.
And the entire school is waiting, too. For when the applause rings out — as it is doing for every award — it will be even louder and more prolonged when her name is called. Geeta is the second pupil to qualify for and win this award, newly instituted by the school. In its first year, the honours went to Bipul, a teenager whose sight began to degenerate at an alarming rate. By the time he finished the year, he was nearly blind. What odds one would imagine of him completing his Year 10? Yet he did, and got through with amazing results.
The following year, he enrolled for Year 11 and opted to take Art as one of his subjects. As a former educator myself, it is thoroughly heartening to see this school award Herculean effort. More schools if they aren’t already doing so ought to be instituting such recognition. It serves not only to reward the spirit that refuses to give up, but take up a challenge and fight to the bitter conclusion. It also acts as an enormous motivator to other pupils even though they may be less challenged. The message it puts out is: “Never give up. Never give in.” To quote the US inspirational author Dr Orison Swett Marden, who wrote several books geared at helping people attain more well-rounded lives: ‘Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds.’
Kevin Martin is a journalist based in Sydney, Australia.
