I was on scholarship during my undergrad.

It was a small scholarship, but still, someone was giving me money for my talents—-a point one of my professors frankly reminded me of after calling me into the hall following a piss-poor performance in a jazz improvisation class.

He told me it was a good thing I was performing well with my lead trumpet studies because, otherwise, it wasn't looking too good for little Jimmy Blackwell. My lack of effort was palpable, and, admittedly, disrespectful.

After the reaming, I said I was sorry. He then looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Don't apologize. Be better."

And then he turned around and walked away.

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