The James Rhio O'Connor Scholarship
What constitutes a challenge? Is it overcoming pain, whether that is physical or emotional? Is it rising above those that say "no" or "can't"? Does it constitute an individual journey, or can a "challenge" only be a "challenge" when it relates to everyone else?
To make a point, I am not from any disadvantaged group or area. I do not have an unfortunate disease or a difficult circumstance, per say; at least not one that would make people line up to hear about it. In fact, my hometown, the rather affluent suburb of Lake Oswego, has a nickname: "Lake No-Negro", referring to the idea that our community lacks diversity and color amongst the community. It was this "bubble" that shaped me for years to come as a separated and faintly elitist individual; character traits that I hope not to return to.
When I began tutoring biology and earth science at the Interagency American Academy this year, I was not really sure what I was getting into. The high school students there are from a completely different background than me. I grew up being frustrated that my parents kept trying to be involved in my life, while several of the students I assist have no family life at all. Or if they do, it involves drugs, stress, and various other traits that I've never seen up close before. And these are all just normal kids, trying to get good grades so they can hopefully get into a college or future program. For a while, I was lost on how to best reach out and teach these kids what I've learned while grappling with my own insecurities on our differences.
Then I read about James Rhio O'Connor.
James Rhio O'Connor was unfortunate enough to have suffered from pleural mesothelioma, a rare form of cancer. Despite being given a year to live, he outlived a prediction that would've otherwise made most people curl up into a ball for more than six years through intense study and a desire to hear the straight facts about his disease. Mesothelioma develops in the mesothelium, which is the protective lining that covers many of the internal organs such as the heart and lungs. Commonly, it develops from exposure to asbestos. Asbestos, being so fine and small, is easily breathed in and might not even register at the beginning. However, once inside the body they are difficult to expel and can cause inflammation, scarring, and genetic damage. There can be a prolonged period of seemingly asymptomatic conditions that are difficult to actively diagnose, but the prognosis is usually poor and, as of now, no cure or successful treatment is known.
Surgery was not possible due to the position of his tumor near his spine, while chemotherapy was not an option it would only lower his quality of life, not lengthen it. Mr. O'Connor was given less than a year to live by his physicians. And yet, he survived for more than seven through supplements, diet, mind-body medicine, and discipline. He did not rely on traditional methods of radiology and other forms of cancer treatment, because if they weren't going to work for him, he wasn't going to work with them. It was this ability to adapt to a new circumstance so readily that made me read more about Mr. O'Connor's amazing story and determination. I don't necessarily agree with his methods and, if given his circumstance, would prefer the scientific and medical route. However, I do respect his decision to pursue a different option, instead of giving up because someone else told him to. What makes Mr. O'Connor so special is not the fact that he survived, but that he actively chose to make a better life for himself, even under doomsday-esque predictions. He didn't stop because it was expected of him; he adapted.
As I think about all the kids that I've met while tutoring, I have begun to see a pattern in many of them. Yes, there are the students who are lazy and arrogant, and to them I am still working on altering my teaching methods and explanations. But there are several whom, when I explain global warming, or evolution, or, indeed, cancer, they want to understand more. They are not afraid to ask questions, to reveal that they know less than I do, because they see the benefit of knowledge and how it begets potential and success. These are not kids with the most beneficial lives at their disposal, but they don't let it keep them down. But what I do not tell them is that they have taught me so much more. I have learned patience, when before I had none. I have learned various methods of descriptions and clarifications. In essence, I have learned to adapt. When we aren't discussing academics, I hear about their interests and ambitions to be psychiatrists, social workers, and poets. I have challenged myself to look BEYOND myself, and I can at least attempt to help others find where they want to go in their lives.
-Joseph Zimmerman
