Describe a decision you made in the past that helped you learn or grow.
The Road I Took Alone: A Decision That Taught Me to Soar
There comes a time in one’s life when the path ahead is forked, the surroundings uncertain, and the compass of comfort no longer points north. It is in such moments, steeped in solitude, that the soul learns to walk—sometimes limp—towards its destiny. I recall one such decision of mine that, though taken in silence, roared like thunder through the corridors of my future.
Years ago, I was offered a well-paying administrative post in a reputed city school. The perks were tempting, the position prestigious, and the circle influential. But something within me felt out of tune. It wasn’t fear—it was dissonance. The institution lacked what I call “the heartbeat of education.” It was a fortress of rigid rules, geared towards mechanical results, void of the warmth and soul of pedagogy.
After a few sleepless nights and many whispered prayers, I chose the road less travelled. I declined the offer. Instead, I accepted a modest role in a humble school nestled in a town barely marked on maps. The pay was meagre, the facilities minimal, and the crowd unknown. But the school had a pulse—it breathed, it struggled, and it hoped.
The decision was not just brave; it was bewildering. I had left the glitter of certainty for the dust of possibilities. There were days when I questioned my choice. But slowly, the miracle began.
With each passing day, I learnt to build—first structures, then systems, and finally, people. I trained teachers not just to instruct but to inspire. I involved myself in the nooks and corners of the school—teaching, mentoring, guiding, and sometimes even mopping a classroom when needed. My hands got dirty, but my soul got cleansed. The children began to bloom like spring flowers after a long winter.
And I—I was no longer the same man. I had discovered the meaning of vocation. I had found my calling.
That decision, taken amidst whispers of doubt and pangs of loneliness, became the cornerstone of my professional evolution. It taught me that true growth often comes wrapped in rough cloth. It isn’t adorned with applause but soaked in silent satisfaction. I realised that the tallest trees grow not in manicured gardens but in forests where they weather storms.
As I look back now, I am reminded of the words of the poet Robert Frost:
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
Indeed, it did!