Hickory Algorithm Newsletter
Royal Blues
Feels Like the First Time
by: Chris Goldby ∣ Hickory Algorithm
For the first time since starting the Hickory Algorithm Newsletter, I sat down to write this week’s article and thought,
“Man, I could’ve written something every single day.”
This week alone, I got to meet a stand-up comedian from the Austin comedy scene, a twelve-time #1 country Christian artist, and thought about covering the Jingle Bell BASH with Arts Catawba, a new business spotlight, a paid placement, a WHKY update (💪), or a guy named Vernon, or maybe just my ongoing battle with drive-thru windows at age 43.
None of those came close to the weight of wrapping up two full years as the facilitator of Maiden High School’s Strong Student Leadership program.
Monday, was our final session with the students we first met as juniors. Two years. Two school years of circling up, digging deep, talking about things most adults still wrestle with like their inner noise, outside noise, identity, relationships, and how to build a life you can be proud of.
Heavy stuff for teenagers.
Heavy stuff for us, too.
For our last class, I intentionally had no plan.
No workbook. No structure.
Just the other two volunteers and me pulling up three chairs and opening the floor to ask questions.
Ask us anything.
Driving. Traveling. Failing. Succeeding. What relationships look like when you’re 17 versus 27 versus 43. What it means to trust people and what it means to trust yourself.
I want to tell you all about it.
But I won’t.
Because some things are meant for the people in the room who earned their way into that moment. Not everything has to be posted, or screenshotted, or shared. Some experiences belong to the people who showed up, who did the work, who trusted the space.
But I will tell you how it ended.
When the questions slowed down, a long, heavy silence settled in.
The good kind.
The kind where you can feel the weight of everything that’s happened.
Smiles. Awkwardness. Realization. Stillness.
I broke the silence and turned my motivator frequency to max levels.
“Remember,” I said, tapping my temple, “the biggest fight you will ever face isn’t with the people around you. It’s up here. In here.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stack of my business cards.
“Put this in your workbook. I don’t care if it’s five years from now, the summer after graduation, or 10 years from now. I will do my best to help you if you call me.”
Then I paused.
“BUT I will not give you money.”
They laughed.
As they tucked the cards into their books and I paced around the room.
“But if that voice in your head ever gets too loud… call my cell phone. The number will never change. You. Call me.”
The other volunteers wrote down their emails on the chalk board and shared their own offers of support. I stood there watching students double-check their spelling, ask for clarification, make sure they wrote everything down correctly.
Then hugs. Shoulder squeezes. Smiles. The bell rings.
And they filtered out for the last time.
People love throwing around words like “impact,” “purpose,” and “change.”
I’m not using any of those words for this. They aren’t worthy of the work that went into this program. Too much vulnerability was shared. Too much honesty. Too many real conversations about real fears and real dreams.
There’s only one word I can think of that comes close is: faith.
Not spiritual faith but faith in yourself.
Faith you have in yourself. Your true self.
Then helping others find their own - faith in themselves.
Faith that showing up matters.
Faith that something small can turn into something meaningful.
Faith that when a door opens, you walk through it even if you don’t know where it will take you.
Faith in yourself.
Belief in yourself.
As the conversations with volunteers and school reps finished up talking. I pushed in the teenagers chairs in one last time. A school representative approached me.
“You asked last week when Maiden graduates,” she said.
I nodded.
“Well, Would you like to give the students their cords at graduation for being in the Strong Student Leadership?”
What?
WOULD I?
“Of course I would. I would be honored.”
When I sat in the silence of my truck afterward, something shifted in the quiet of the universe.
Maybe it was me.
Maybe it was the kids.
Maybe it was all of us.
It felt like the first time - but not the “yay, we did it!” kind of first time.
This wasn’t accomplishment. This wasn’t checking a box. This wasn’t a finish line.
I was exactly where I needed to be.
And as fast as that feeling came, it drifted away — because four days later, Strong Student Leadership held orientation for the next group of Maiden High School students.
The cycle continues. It always continues.
That’s the thing about meaningful work…
It doesn’t end.
It evolves.
It twists and bends.
It’s just the next step in the work.
The work that matters.
The work that changes you as much as it helps them.
We took a serious one and a fun one. Couldn’t help myself.
💪
#fortheloveofthegame
Last Week:
🛸 The Hickory Algorithm🛸
CONTACT US
Increase your reach organically with hickoryalgorithm.com
Content that Connects. Connections that matter.
