The Power of Yet

Halfway through my freshman year of high school, our band director wrote "The Power of Yet" in large blue letters on the front whiteboard. It was met with laughter and within a day, the phrase was defaced with various jokes and gimmicks until the original letters were unrecognizable. With the persistence and patience only a high school teacher could have, the band director sighed and fixed it every time.

It was almost an entire week before he got around to explaining what it meant. "The Poo of Yeti" as it now read applied to a difficult piece in our set. Just thinking about it gave freshman flute me a headache with its fast tempo and neverending triplets.

"I know this piece is hard," he said with a calm cadence. "And many of you are saying, "We'll never get this" and we won't." Confused whispers ensued.

"Not yet."

I don't remember if we played that song well or if we never got past garbled garbage. What I do remember is seeing those letters sprawled across the board and the intense look in his eyes. At that moment, I didn't imagine those four words having such a profound impact on my mentality, but they did.

It wasn't a sudden shift; I didn't notice it until months later. But every time I came across a hard task, a difficult math problem, a lack of artistic ability, a gap in skill, any moment where I told myself I couldn't, a small part of my mind echoed his words.

"Not yet."

So I kept practicing, kept studying, kept at it. I drew every day and kept getting better. I practiced shots and drills and became starting line-up in varsity. I finally took my instrument home to practice and soon became first chair. I took harder classes and studied even harder. I became the person I always wanted to be all because I realized I wouldn't get there unless I tried.

You're not the best you can be...not yet.