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What Raising 12 Million Dollars Taught Me: Brooke Linville (Transcript)

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Full transcript of writer and storyteller Brooke Linville’s TEDx Talk: What Raising 12 Million Dollars Taught Me at TEDxBoise conference. This event occurred on May 5, 2018.


Notable quote from this talk: 

“I had spent so much energy managing everyone else’s chaos, fixing everyone else’s problems, that I had no time, no space for me. Perhaps I could learn a few things from Sweet Briar: save myself like I had helped save the school.”


Brooke Linville – Writer & storyteller 

I have a confession: I love “A”s. Love their symmetry, their validation, their pronouncement to the world that I am good.

And I was almost always an “A” student, with the exception of a few years in high school, when I aced being in love with boys, at the expense of “C”s in Salinger and derivatives.

Once I graduated from college with honors, I set my sights on acing the curriculum of life: get married, have kids, buy a house, start a business. We all know that narrative.

And I thought I was getting “A”s. My life report card looked a little like this.

Managing Chaos: “A++”. I have two boys: one is on the spectrum, the other started to do frontflips off my headboard about the time he turned two. I had started one business, was helping my husband launch a virtual reality startup, while writing a novel and volunteering at my kids’ school. I had a master’s degree in chaos.

Surviving Trauma: “A+”. My father was diagnosed with stage four Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma when I was 18. My house burned down in a wildfire when I was nearly eight months pregnant. And half my face has been paralyzed, eventually leading to a diagnosis of Lyme disease.

Every time I felt my life was finally on track, something traumatic would happen to knock it off course.

Fixing Others: “A”. When my bachelor father was diagnosed with cancer, I moved in with him, became his primary caregiver, found and enrolled him in the clinical trial that would save his life. I sent my husband to college, tried to teach him algebra, and edited nearly every paper before he dropped out.

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I wasn’t just trying to take the final exam in my own life, I was trying to take everyone else’s too.

Guilt, anxiety, suppressing feelings: “A,” “A,” “A”. And I undoubtedly would have continued on that path, lined with “A”s forever, unfulfilled, a life of chaos, knowing that something was missing but never quite sure what.

And then, March 3rd, 2015. That morning, I was scrolling through Facebook looking for a few minutes of distraction. Instead of pictures of friends on vacation and enviable eggs. Benedict though, my news feed was full of gasps and sorrows. The small women’s college I had attended my freshman and sophomore years had announced it was closing that summer. I stared at the screen, unable to believe the news.

Sweet Briar College sits on 3,000 acres at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Central Virginia. Its entrance is one of the most beautiful I have ever driven, full of oaks and lush green, opening to brick buildings that have educated women for more than 100 years.

Before women were a part of NASA, they were educated at Sweet Briar. Before women held office in Congress, they were educated at Sweet Briar. Before women could vote, they were educated at Sweet Briar.

And like my own life, Sweet Briar didn’t look like it was failing, not to the outside: land resources, $70 million plus endowment, reputation. Demand for single-sex education had been declining, but I thought that maybe one day it would go co-ed like so many others before it had.

Never did I imagine that this middle place between adolescence and adulthood would close, especially so abruptly. At first I thought I had to be out of the loop; others had to have known it was in such bad shape. But as the hours passed, it became increasingly clearer that everyone, everyone had been taken by surprise.

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