No excuse is acceptable. No amount of effort is adequate until proven effective. — Dr. Sybil Collins Mobley, founder of Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University’s School of Business and Industry
Every August my mind turns to remember and to celebrate one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my entire life. This past decision positively affects my daily present life.
I am a Florida Agricultural & Mechanical University (FAMU) Rattler.
I am a Humphries era Rattler.
I am one of “Sybil’s Kids”.
(Good morning, Good Tea People! This post is both Straight From the Leaf and straight of my heart. Welcome to all new readers, followers and subscribers. Please go ahead and prepare your tea. I have some peach oolong myself. Let’s connect.)
Calling All Superstars
Once upon a time, before email, social media and artificial intelligence, colleges and universities recruited academically-gifted high school students within the United States based on their Preliminary Standard Achievement Test (PSAT) scores. These National Merit Achievement scholars were then heavily courted to attend prestigious private and public institutions. In other words, being distinguished as a National Merit Achievement Scholar was a pretty big deal for the students’ high schools, guidance counselors, teachers, mentors and parents. It was a recognition celebrated by everyone except the achiever herself.
I am a National Merit Finalist scholar. Please be very clear that this distinction was not given to me. It was an open competition that I participated in unknowingly by doing my own homework, taking my class notes with illustrations, writing my essays, and typing my own 20-page research papers. The PSAT exam was one step in the ongoing pursuit of finishing high school as soon as possible, attending college and emerging with as little debt as possible.
(Good Tea People, this was when we students had to use the Dewey Decimal system in libraries to find the book, read the reference, and then cite the source. Our teachers read and graded each of our papers, writing feedback in ink. Thankfully word processors came to speed up the process. Ms. O, again I raise a tea cup salute!)
I wasn’t chasing a GPA or aiming for specific grades. After I studied and completed my exams, I moved onto the next task. Each award and honor I received, like the National Honor Society, I brought home to my parents, told my Gram, and went back to school. It wasn’t until years later that I learned how my academic performance applied pressure to my younger siblings.
The last thing my introversion-preferring self wanted to do was draw additional attention. Attention meant additional work and social interaction for me: applications, questionnaires, interviews, unsolicited advice and travel logistics. I was balancing gratitude for the opportunities while protecting myself against the overwhelming onslaught of college admissions representatives. So, I enlisted help and delegated tasks to my first hire.
My youngest brother became my first assistant. His role was to keep track of all my mail offering scholarships by state and in alphabetical order. We even created a visual map of the United States to see how many states we would reach. If the marketing materials appealed to him, then he would pass them along to me. Never underestimate the power of the gatekeeper.
One day he brought me a letter with an attention grabbing opening: “Dear Superstar…” signed by Dean Sybil C. Mobley. There was a scholarship for me to attend the School of Business and Industry (SBI) at Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University (FAMU). If accepted, then I would study international business and then graduate with practical experience because each student was required to complete three paid internships prior to graduation.
My parents told me that I could go anywhere I wanted if I found the scholarship(s) to do so. I’m convinced that they thought I would select one of the many universities located in the Mid-Atlantic. However, I longed to go somewhere that family influence could not reach. It was important for me to know that people liked me for me and not for the potential benefits and family connections that came along with knowing me. FAMU’s School of Business and Industry met these requirements.
(No, Good Tea People, I didn’t know anything about Florida other than a senior trip to Disney World. Florida is so much more than Disney World. Please stay focused and pour another cup of tea.)
FAMU chose me and I chose FAMU back. My decision to attend an HBCU was met with horror by my high school guidance counselor because it meant that I declined all of the Ivy League scholarships offered me, including some for which I did not apply. This was my decision to make, I made it and I traveled seven states away to begin my adulthood in Tallahassee, Florida.
Caring With Excellence
Dean Mobley had assembled a constellation of Superstars in Tallahassee hailing from Philadelphia, Newark, Akron, Baltimore, Chicago, Columbia, MD, Hempstead, New York, Washington, DC, Gary, IN, Los Angeles as well as Atlanta and every place within the State of Florida. Tallahassee natives, also known as Baby Rattlers, were present too.
What kind of place was this? Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University is located on The Highest of the Seven Hills founded on October 3, 1887. There is also history of venomous snake population of eastern diamondback and pygmy rattlesnakes. We Rattlers clear obstacles to create opportunities for ourselves and for others.
What kind of people persevered to lay the foundation for future doctors, engineers, journalists, pharmacists, attorneys, business leaders, public servants and educators? Greatness is often buried in seemingly impossible circumstances. There was and continues to be a price for wearing FAMU’s orange and green: to whom much is given much is required . As a Rattler, I do strike, strike and strike again against any opposition to my existence as well as my alma mater’s.
The Paddyfote Complex, located across the street from SBI, was the designated dormitory and the courtyard where I would first encounter my freshman classmates. What an incubator! We would discover via meaningful conversations what brought each of us there and where we desired to go from here. Even though I arrived not knowing anyone, I am a member of a FAMUly that surrounds the globe. Today I am blessed to be a financially active FAMU National Alumni Association Lifetime Member.
FAMU School of Business and Industry
Imagine going to class every day wearing a full business suit, including hosiery and heels, in Florida humidity and heat. Now picture seeing a bunch of business attire-clad individuals walking up and down the hills from the School of Business and Industry to The Set, where all FAMU gathered.
(Yes, Good Tea People, there were countless marvelous calves formed on the hills of Tallahassee. We walked everywhere and those steps still work out the body today. )
“Sybil’s Kids”, or School of Business and Industry (SBI) students recruited, mentored and protected by their Dean Sybil C. Mobley, stuck out all over the campus. We also attracted corporate visitors at home and abroad who wanted to see and to learn from “the Marine Corps of business schools: pride, poise, excellence!” that In Search of Excellence: Lessons from America’s Best-Run Companies author Tom Peters witnessed. I was focused on studying accounting and quantitative business methods to notice how other schools would later adopt the model we lived.
Sybil’s Kids read and subscribed to The Wall Street Journal. We analyzed annual reports, balance sheets, profit and loss statements, and calculated earnings per share (without calculators during Dr. Frieder’s exams). We prepared our own introduction statements and listened to others — learning to pronounce Paducah and Alberquerque. We prepared our weekly questions to America’s CEOs about business strategy and the resulting human impact on their organizations’ talent. Sybil’s Kids were groomed for greatness and we delivered: internships, investment and access.
How can you dim a light that was designed to shine bright? Even
When the dark clouds gather on the horizon,
When thunder and lightning pierce the skies,
When Fate is but a glare in the eye of a fallen Rattler,
and Hope a lost friend,
When the sinew of the chest grows weary from those hard charging linebackers,
And the muscles in the legs grow tired from those hard charging runningback,
You must always remember….the Rattlers will
STRIKE!!!
STRIKE!!!
AND STRIKE AGAIN!!!
Although some may attempt, it’s as futile as asking a star not to shine. Superstars are who we are. Shine is what we do. We have already been tried in the fire (read: Florida heat and humidity), proven through intensive professional development and refined by what life has brought our way. Yet we are still shining.
Our glow is not what’s on us. It comes from the eternal flame that’s been stoked inside us.
This is the reason that when we see each other, whether yesterday or decades ago, we greet each other with joy. We don’t just survive, we thrive.
Cups Up Conclusions
Orange and green mean more to me than I can convey in a single post — and the bliss I feel whenever I see these colors together! The admiration I hold for my classmates who shared their lives and stories with me is profound. The professors who invested their talents into us both inside and outside the classroom are my esteemed elders.
I’m so glad I’m from FAMU! I am both a beneficiary and a contributor to FAMU’s ongoing legacy. Like most Rattlers, I don’t play games with anyone seeking to cause harm whether on or off the field. Venom has both power to harm and to heal. Strike carefully and with intention. Whatever you do, never underestimate the power of a Rattler.
Cups up! #DrinkTea #FangsUp
