The sharpest tool in the shed

Like everyone, I’ve been doing my spring cleaning when I came across some old college notes. That discovery led me to reflect on a fundamental question: What did I learn in college? I could delve into the technicalities of a SWOT analysis or summarize AP style writing guidelines, but the most valuable takeaway wasn’t academic — it was a toolbox.

You may be picturing a steel toolbox filled with screws and hammers, but I’m referring to a figurative one. In the fall 2020 semester, during my PR writing course at UNC, our professor, Marshall Carter, introduced this concept in a memorable way.

On the first day of class, we did the usual icebreakers, sharing our hardships and how we overcame them. Afterward, Professor Carter walked around with a toolbox and asked us what it was. We answered, but there was a catch — it was empty. For a moment, I thought we’d be building something, but given our aspirations as writers, that seemed unlikely. She explained that in life, we all have personal toolboxes. With her class and the courses we’d take at Carolina, she hoped we would gather skills and insights to fill our own.

At the time, her words carried significant weight. The uncertainty of that period, combined with my personal struggles, made her message resonate deeply. Just two days after my birthday in March 2020, I lost one of the most significant people in my life — my dear aunt. Her sudden passing left me grasping for affirmations to push forward. That first day in Professor Carter’s classroom turned out to be the last, as a COVID-19 spike forced us back into remote learning. While the idea of online classes seemed practical, the reality was far more challenging. Staying engaged and motivated was difficult, but Professor Carter’s toolbox analogy gave me tunnel vision and kept me focused.

Before taking her course, I had asked friends about her grading style. They all warned me — just as Rate My Professor reviews did — that earning an A in her class was nearly impossible. Determined to defy the odds, I gave it my all. One of UNC’s journalism school’s strictest rules is the 50-point deduction for misspelling a name, and despite knowing this, I made the mistake on my midterm by forgetting just one letter. When I saw my class average drop, I was disappointed but used it as a learning experience rather than a setback.

As the semester progressed, my grades improved. Given the pandemic, the university offered a pass/fail option to protect students from receiving a compromising letter grade. But I refused to take that route. When finals season arrived, my grade teetered between a B+ and an A-, so I pushed myself, dedicating everything to my final project and exam. In the end, my efforts paid off — I earned an A-, an achievement many had deemed unreachable.

The lesson that stuck with me wasn’t just about persistence or precision — it was about that toolbox. The one Professor Carter handed over at the start of the semester wasn’t just a metaphor; it became a mindset. And as I move forward in life, I’ll continue to carry it, adding new tools along the way.