When I was nine years old, my father sat me down and told me he had opened a savings account for my college education. Every birthday, every Christmas, every report card — money went in. By the time I was seventeen, there was just over forty thousand dollars in that account.
The summer before my senior year, my dad remarried. His new wife had a son — Tyler — who was my age and had just failed out of his second community college.
In October of my senior year, my dad sat me down again. He said the family needed to make some sacrifices. Tyler needed a fresh start at a private university and the tuition was substantial. He said he had used my college fund.
I did not yell. I did not cry. I was seventeen years old and I had been working since I was thirteen and I had straight As and I already knew, in that moment, exactly what I was going to do.
I applied to every scholarship I could find. I got a full ride to a state university. I took out minimal loans for living expenses. I did not speak to my father for two years.
Tyler dropped out of the private university after one semester.
I graduated with honors, debt-free, and accepted a job in another city two weeks later. My father called to congratulate me. I thanked him politely.
I have never asked him for a single thing since I was seventeen years old. That is the most powerful thing I have ever done.