CHANGED FOR GOOD…The students were asked to reflect on a relationship that has affected their life for the better

MOHAMED…reminds us that the most important person who can change us for the better is ourself.

No One’s Coming to Save Me

I was six years old when my family left Mali. I didn’t understand why at first. I just remember the long flight, the boxes we couldn’t bring, and my mother whispering that America would give me a better life. But “better” didn’t come easy.We didn’t have much money. 

My parents worked long hours, and I learned early how to make things last, one pair of shoes for everything, from school to the playground to Eid prayer. Kids at school noticed. They laughed at my accent, my clothes, and even my name. I’d smile like it didn’t bother me, but when I got home, I’d sit in silence, replaying every insult in my head. Middle school was the worst. Everyone wanted to fit in, and I stuck out. I didn’t talk much. I kept to myself. Sometimes I’d pretend to be sick just to avoid the noise, the jokes, the whispers. I didn’t know it then, but all that pain was teaching me how to stay calm in the middle of chaos. Back then, basketball was just something I watched on YouTube. I’d see players like Kevin Durant glide across the court, and I’d imagine what it felt like to move like that. But I never really played. I told myself I didn’t have the time, or the money, or the right connections. Truth was, I didn’t believe I could be great.

That started to change the summer before ninth grade. One day, a few guys at the park asked if I wanted to run a few games. I hesitated. I didn’t even have real basketball shoes  but I joined anyway. I missed layups, fumbled passes, and air-balled more shots than I want to admit. But for the first time, I felt something new: drive. I wanted to get better.

At first, no one believed me. When I told people I wanted to play Division 1 basketball one day, they laughed. Some said, “Bro, you don’t even have a school team.” And they were right, the school I go to now is small, no team, no scouts, no gym full of screaming fans. Just me, a ball, and a dream. Money was still tight, so I couldn’t afford trainers or camps. But I had YouTube and pavement, and that was enough. I started waking up early to dribble outside while the neighborhood was still asleep. My palms froze in the winter, but I didn’t stop. I’d go to the park after school, shooting until the sky turned orange and the lights went out. At first, people called me crazy. “You’re wasting your time,” they said. “You’ll never make it.” Those words used to hurt, but over time they became fuel. Every time someone doubted me, I heard a voice in my head say, prove them wrong.

Still, the pressure was heavy. Balancing school, religion, and training wasn’t easy. There were nights I’d stare at my homework, too tired to focus, and wonder if I was doing the right thing. Some days I questioned why I even tried so hard when no one seemed to notice. But one night, while scrolling through old videos, I saw a quote that hit me harder than any insult ever could: “No one’s coming to save you.” I froze. Because deep down, I knew it was true. No one was going to hand me success. No one was going to fight for me. If I wanted to change my life, I had to move. That night, I made a promise to myself and to Allah. I would pray five times a day, stay disciplined in school, and give everything I had to basketball no matter who was watching.And slowly, things started to change. My grades went up. My body got stronger. My mindset shifted. I wasn’t just trying to prove people wrong anymore — I was trying to prove myself right.

Now I’m sixteen. I still go to that same small school, still with no team, still getting comments like, “Bro, you’re wasting your talent there.” But I don’t let it get to me. I know what I’m building. Every day, I work on my shot, my handle, my body, and my faith. I’ve learned that hard work doesn’t always get applause, sometimes it’s just silent progress. 

The truth is, life has been cruel to me at times. But that cruelty shaped me. It forced me to grow up faster, to depend on myself, and to rely on Allah when nothing else made sense. I don’t see my past as pain anymore, I see it as preparation. (quote from Mr. Tom: Luck is when preparation meets opportunity) I’m not a star yet. I don’t have any offers. But I’ve already won something bigger: purpose. I wake up knowing exactly who I’m becoming. I used to wait for someone to save me. Now, I’m saving myself  through prayer, discipline, and work. Every shot I take, every assignment I finish, every prayer I make, it’s all proof that change is possible. Real change. Change for good. Because no one’s coming to save me. And that’s exactly why I will.

Mohamed Cisse

11/9/25