The Choice to be More?

Remember those kids in school? The ones who always had the right answers, the ones who made life just a little harder for the rest of us because they were too smart?

Yeah, I was one of them.

The ones the teachers liked, the ones they held up as an example. Focused, serious, academically sharp.

Well, not at first.

In fact, for a significant part of my childhood and early teenage years, I was the complete opposite. Carefree. Unserious. Living for the moment.

Back then, I sat at the back of the class, did my homework during the lesson (or copied it from the so-called smartest kid), and barely scraped by with Cs and Ds. Occasionally, I’d get a B in religious studies—just enough to avoid repeating a grade. My crew and I? We were the definition of unseriously unserious. And if I’m being honest, we didn’t care. Not because we weren’t capable, but because we didn’t see the point.

It wasn’t that school was particularly difficult for me. I just didn’t have the interest. Everyone kept saying, “Study hard, get good grades, be first in class.” But what did that mean for me? What was the value of being first? Why should I care about school when video games offered an instant, tangible reward? Finish a level, you get a badge. Beat a boss, you get bragging rights. School didn’t have that immediate satisfaction—at least, not in a way I understood.

Looking back, I realize there were two major things I lacked: role models and a personal understanding of value.

Role models shape how we perceive success. If you grow up in a home where your parents are academics, doctors, engineers, or lawyers, the path is clear—you follow in their footsteps. But when your immediate family doesn’t fit into those ‘prestigious’ categories, the expectation to become something you can’t relate to feels forced. It creates friction. It feels easier to just coast, to exist in the moment. And that’s exactly what I did. I chilled. I became the best at video games. I watched every movie worth watching.

The second missing piece was understanding the value of academic success—not just in society’s terms, but for myself. What did I gain from it? What was in it for me? At some point in my mid-teens, I figured it out. I wanted to be different. I wanted to be unique. I wanted a superpower. And the closest thing to a superpower I could develop? Intelligence.

Here’s the math I did:

There were different types of cliques in school:

• The jokers—the ones who made everyone laugh, the life of the classroom.
• The extremely good-looking ones—the ones who turned heads without trying.
• The stylish and well-off kids—those who had the best clothes, the latest gadgets.
• And then, there were the smart ones.

And here’s what clicked for me: intelligence was the only thing I had full control over.

I couldn’t magically upgrade my financial situation. But I could sharpen my mind.

I could figure things out.

I could see the world differently.

And once I started treating intelligence like a skill—like something I could actively build—it changed everything. I stopped studying just to pass. I started learning to win. To be the guy who knew things. The one who could think ahead. And soon enough, it worked. I got better. I became the kid who won competitions, who teachers held up as an example. But more importantly, I had chosen this for myself.

I started studying—not just to pass, but to become that smart kid. To see the world differently. And it worked. I became good at it, excelled in school, won competitions. But more importantly, I had chosen something for myself.

Performance is a Choice

This isn’t just about academics. It’s about how we choose to show up in life.

People assume performance is dictated by environment. And sure, that plays a role. But at the core of it? Performance is a decision.

For the past decade, I’ve been making that choice—choosing to be intentional, choosing to keep learning, choosing to be sharp. And some days? It’s hard. Because deciding to be more isn’t a one-time thing; it’s a choice you have to make over and over again.

That’s why when I see a teenager who seems lost, who lacks motivation, I don’t just think, “They need to try harder.” Maybe what they really need is a reason to try. Maybe someone needs to help them see the value, to show them what’s possible.

Because people don’t just need instructions. They need to understand why it matters.

And once they do? They just might make a different choice. A choice to become more.

Showing Up is Half the Battle

Now, don’t get me wrong—I don’t have life all figured out. Not even close. In fact, I’ve stopped trying to figure out life entirely.

Instead, I focus on this: Show up. Every day. With a plan.

Even when the situation doesn’t warrant it. Even when it feels pointless. Because half the battle is just getting started.

Les Brown once said: “Your life is God’s gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God."

That quote first hit me in 2015, and it’s stuck ever since.

So, I’ll ask you—how are you choosing to live?