A couple of months ago, I discovered this fabulous place called the library. Oh my god, you guys, you can get books FOR FREE.

To be clear, I’ve always known about the library, it’s just that I only recently started using it because I don’t have a job and borrowing books is cheaper than buying them. My friend Marla says that the books at the library are “filthy” and “gross,” but I try not to think about that.

So far, I haven’t developed any rashes.

When I first started using the library, I kept saying that I was “renting” books, but my (grammatically superior) best friend Justin, who insists on the correct use of language and also prefers three-syllable words to two-syllable words, said the word I was actually looking for (even though I didn’t know I was looking for it) was “borrowing.”

Here’s a recent picture of me, Justin’s wife, and Justin (in order of appearance). All three of us used to live together a few years ago before the two of them decided to get married, and, consequently, I had to move. (Geez.)

Well, anyway. Thanks to the local library, today I finished Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers: The Story of Success. The book basically proposes that successful people like Bill Gates and The Beatles really can’t take all the credit for their success (and most successful people don’t even try to). Malcolm says that success, sure, depends on hard work, but it often hinges on many factors beyond the control of the individual. For example, he details how (and why): the most successful hockey players are born in the month of January, the most successful lawyers are Jewish, and the people who are best at math are Asian.

If you want more details, you’ll have to check the book out for yourself. (Have you heard of a library?) But suffice it to say, Malcolm says that successful people are almost always the recipient of some good fortune, like parents who take an active role in their child’s education, being born in a culture that values getting up early and working hard, or even being a minority (something that works out well for comedians).

What I liked about the book is that it caused me to reshape my perspective on success, as well as focus on those things in my life that have helped mold me into a better person and perhaps give me some sort of advantage or good fortune. I know, you’ve got to be thinking, “Tell me, how DID you become single, jobless, and lucky enough to live with your parents–all before the age of forty?” And whereas you might have a point there, and whereas I understand the tendency to focus on what isn’t going right and the successes that haven’t occurred, I also understand that my therapist doesn’t put up with whiners. So (at least for this post), I’ll be focusing on the successes that have. As Stuart Smalley says, “An attitude of gratitude–it’s not just a platitude.”

About a year ago, the local Montessori school held a fundraiser, and the guest of honor was Sister Kevin Bopp, the woman who founded the Montessori school in Fort Smith. Both my sister and I attended Montessori, and I can’t say enough about the experience. For one thing, we never had to sit in desks. Instead, we got to move around the room, sit in a corner and read, gather together in the middle of the floor and make crafts. I remember learning how to make a bed, how to pack a suitcase, how to ask a friend if they wanted to sit down and have a snack. (All of these skills continue to come in handy.) Almost everything at Montessori was hands-on, self-directed learning. Teachers were there, of course, and sometimes we’d all work together, but I don’t ever remember it feeling like a lecture or a chore. Actually, I remember it being fun.

When I told my mom and my sister about my plans to go to the fundraiser honoring Sister Kevin, they told me their memories about her. My mom said Sister Kevin used to wait for all the children to arrive each morning, bending down so she was on their level, greeting them each by name. She said that once my sister was homesick, so Sister Kevin let my mom come to the school and wait in another room, so my sister could see her and feel more secure. My sister said she remembers showing up to school one year on St. Patrick’s Day without any green on, and Sister Kevin gave her something green to wear. It may seem like a little thing, but it wasn’t a little thing for my sister.

As I’m sure you know, kindness is never a little thing.

When I saw Sister Kevin last year, I said, “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Marcus Coker.” And then Sister Kevin smiled and said, “Marcus Coker–from Van Buren.” Later, she reached up and tussled my hair and said, “I could never forget those curls.” (I honestly don’t think that I had curls as a child, but whatever. It’s still sweet.)

That night, I heard a lot of stories about Sister Kevin, and the one thing that everyone remembered about her was how much she loved each and every child. Later, when I got in my car to leave, I started crying because I realized what an impact her love and the school she started had had on me. I realized how fortunate I was to end up in a place that taught and modeled respect for yourself, respect for others, and respect for things. It’s like I’d been carrying around these values for thirty years, and I finally was able to see, at least in part, where they came from. And I started thinking about how I was encouraged to be curious and to an independent learner, to think outside the box, and how my life as an adult might look different if I’d been forced to sit in a desk all day when I was child. Like, maybe I wouldn’t have been a dance instructor or a studio owner because I wouldn’t have had the courage to figure things out as I went or because I would have been taught a more traditional way of doing things, a way that wasn’t as fun.

As I think about it now, I’m especially grateful that I was encouraged to be curious because I think that’s why I keep going back to the library, why I read Malcolm Gladwell. In another of his books (David and Goliath), Malcolm says that often what we think of as disadvantages are actually advantages. So I think if I weren’t curious, it’d be easy to get stuck thinking that the circumstances of my life right now suck and they suck, period. But even Joseph Campbell says that there was a five-year period in his life when he was unemployed and all he did was read. Looking back, he says that period was absolutely essential for all his later success.

I make a lot of jokes about my life right now, but the truth is, I don’t know whether what’s happening is good or bad. My friend Craig, who’s a retired therapist, says that he hates it when people say “baby steps” because there’s not such thing as a small step. Life, he says, is like a puzzle. Every piece is important. So for all I know, this period in my life might be absolutely essential. And maybe thirty years from now, I’ll look back and see it like I see that time with Sister Kevin and Montessori–a time to be curious, a time of learning, a time to love.

[One more thing. If you happen to know Malcolm Gladwell or happen to be Malcolm Gladwell, I have a few follow-up questions I’d like to ask about success–if you’re willing, of course. I’m not currently in the habit of getting up early, but I’d be glad to make an exception if you’re only available in the mornings. Either way, thank you so much for your work.]