It is often said that character is what an individual does when he or she thinks that nobody is watching. Those who do good deeds only for some sort of external gratification are typically thought of as rather selfish individuals, and those who do good deeds simply to do good deeds are held in high regard. But what is the driving force behind these selfless actions? What motivates good people to do good things? The answer is self-discipline, the ability to make positive decisions without anything or anyone forcing you to.
I believe very strongly in the power of self-discipline, and the root of my belief can be traced back to my childhood and the way I was raised. When I was in third grade, I wasn’t allowed to play video games. Now that’s not to say that my mother would burst into my friend’s houses and slap the controller out of my hands if she found out I was playing them, but she felt very strongly that there were better ways for a young boy to spend his time, namely playing outside or practicing sports. As a result, she refused to buy me anything more than an out-of-date Gameboy Advance, which I was only allowed to use on long car trips or briefly before bed.
One fall evening, after a long day of barbecuing with various family members, one of my older cousins walked over to my mom and handed her a large gift bag with multi-colored balloons on it. Contained inside was his old Sega Dreamcast and a few games, which may not sound like much nowadays, but at the time, it was the greatest gift I had ever gotten. I couldn’t wait to get home and play it. There was only one problem. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, my mother took the bag upstairs and hid it in her closet, well out of reach of my stubby, third grade arms. It was only then that she informed me of the unfortunate truth of the situation; just because I had come into possession of a video game console, doesn’t mean I was suddenly allowed to play video games. The old rules still applied.
Initially, I saw very little of that Sega Dreamcast. It sat on the same shelf that my mother put it on that first day, only seeing the light of day when I had done something that my mother considered productive enough to warrant a brief session. But over time, I began to realize the lesson that my mother was trying to teach me. Thirty minutes of practicing lacrosse outside would earn me thirty minutes of Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3. An hour of homework would earn me an hour of Sonic Adventures 2. And so on and so forth. Any time I wanted to use that beat up, second-hand console, my mother made me do something to earn that down time, a lesson that has carried over into my adult life.
Nowadays, I don’t have my mother breathing down my neck anymore, I can use my PlayStation whenever I see fit, and there’s nobody timing me to make sure I keep a good balance when it comes to divvying up my time. But there doesn’t need to be. Years of practice have made it second nature for me. I won’t turn on the TV before I study, I won’t blow off homework to hang out with friends, and I won’t take that first sip of beer on the weekends until I know all my responsibilities for the week are squared away, because I have self discipline. And I firmly believe that my self-discipline is directly responsible for almost everything noteworthy that I’ve achieved to date.
Excellent.