Bad Cadet - A Journey From Failure to Redemption Through West Point's Army Mentorship Program

Several weeks ago I was asked to speak at the West Point Society of Washington's Seattle Founders Day event on March 18th, 2023. In light of the feedback I've received since then, I feel it's important to share what I wrote for that evening.

If even just one person reads this and feels seen, understood, moved, or inspired then it is truly worth it. Thank you.

-Madison

Good evening. I want to take a moment to thank the incredible vendors, staff, volunteers, and the West Point Society of Washington for ensuring that tonight would be full of hospitality and high spirits. J.R.R. Tolkien famously said, “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” Thank you for making our worlds a little merrier this evening.??

I especially want to thank Mr. John Higgins—the man we can all blame for me being allowed to get on stage with a microphone, a captive audience, and an 8-minute backstop. But in all seriousness, when John reached out to me several weeks ago, I was sure he had made a mistake.?

“I’m older than my husband, Lee, so there’s no way I’m the ‘youngest’ graduate.”

So, I called John and said, “I think you may have made a mistake…” And—to my horror—John laughed and said, “Nope! I double-checked! You are the?most recent?graduate.” But John was great, and he assured me that I didn’t “have to” speak but that I should look at it as an “opportunity to excel” which kind of felt like I had to speak.?

But I explained to John, “You know the reason I was a little confused is because I was originally in the class of 2017, but I took a little ‘detour’ and graduated in 2019.” And then I told John that, although I’d love to speak, I wasn’t sure how well-received anything I had to say would be.?

You see, the truth is that in the fall of my firstie year my then-boyfriend and I were turned in for a brigade board for violating a barracks policy, and the issue evolved into an honor board. A gross over-simplification is that I got into more trouble than my boyfriend did. Although we both received 100 hours, room restriction, reduction of rank, and loss of privileges in January of our firstie year—in February he was found not guilty in his honor board while I was found guilty in mine. Three months later, and ten days before graduation, on May 17th, 2017 I was ordered to enter the Army Mentorship Program as a 31B military police specialist on orders to Joint Base Lewis-McChord and the 504th Military Police Battalion. But, before arriving to Fort Lewis, I would be attending Basic Training and Advanced Individual Training (AIT) at Fort Leonard Wood. After 18 months of being in the AMP, and with good behavior coupled with recommendations from my West Point and active-duty mentors, I would be given an opportunity to reapply to West Point, pick up where I’d left off, and (hopefully) graduate the second time around. But nothing was guaranteed.?

So, you can imagine I’m thinking about all of this, and the imposter syndrome is slowly setting in, and I’m telling John, “I don’t think people want to hear from me. I’m not what you would call a ‘good cadet’.” And John said, “I think you have something valuable to share. Make it constructive. Teach us something we don’t know a lot about. You’ll do great.” And that was the nudge I needed.?

The prompt I was given was, “How did West Point prepare you to serve and succeed? What did West Point teach you?”

And I’ve thought long and hard about this. I have no illusions of grandeur that I will share earth-shattering revelations about the West Point experience or profound insight into the secret and mysterious lives of today’s junior military officers. Instead, it is my goal—and my sincerest hope—that my testimony shows you a mirror in which you can all see yourselves. A mirror that reflects the sting of failure, the power of adversity, the sweetness of success, and the grace of redemption.?

When I left West Point in May of 2017, I was angry. I was more than angry—I was bitter. You often hear stories dripping in nostalgia of “West Point in the rearview mirror”. When I left West Point—a failure—and saw the Thayer Hotel in my rearview mirror I pulled over at the first dumpster I saw, next to the South Gate Tavern, and I threw everything away. Tears streaked my face as I hurled it all out of my car: my full dress missing firstie rank, my cadet trunks, my tar bucket and plume, and my firstie saber—stabbed into the top like a sword in stone—taunting me for being unworthy to wield it. A purpose unrealized.?

After a few months at home awaiting orders to basic training, the day finally came for me to ship to basic training. I remember sitting in the Military Entrance Processing Station and feeling above it all. Like I didn’t deserve to be there. And later, when the girl on the plane to Fort Leonard Wood tried talking to me, I ignored her. I didn’t deserve to be there. And then, when I stood among my fellow trainees in Bravo Company 787th Military Police Battalion, I turned my nose up at how beneath me all of it was…because I didn’t deserve to be there.?

And the truth is I’m deeply ashamed to tell all of you that. But it’s true. It’s how I felt. And I soon realized that for so long all I had cared about was “me”.?My?reputation.?My?career.?My?opportunities. But I was—and still am—owed none of it. As I befriended my squad, platoon, and company mates I quickly realized that the “worst thing” that had ever happened to me was the greatest opportunity some of them have ever, or will ever, have in their entire lives.

I was right—I didn’t deserve to be there. I was immature and I was selfish. But somehow, I still had the opportunity to be there. And to this day being there with them is one of the greatest honors I’ve ever known.?

I soon realized that each of these Soldiers that I now called friends represented very real people I would someday be expected to serve, care for, and lead. Each of them was a real person with real problems: complicated home lives, financial hardships, emotional wounds, and personal traumas. But they also had incredible gifts: PVT Baker had an eidetic memory, SPC Oiler was named police officer of the year in his hometown, and SPC Hasagawa had a PhD in physics. The gravity of these realizations and understanding their individual commitments to service humbled me, and within me a new foundation was leveled and made clean.?

Before I got in trouble, I had been popular at West Point. I had lots of friends. I was fun. I had been the “sideline girl”. I had a cool boyfriend. After I got in trouble, I became radioactive. No one really stuck around and I pushed away the few that did. During basic training my newfound friendships slowly began to salve old wounds and rebuild my confidence. The acceptance, love, and camaraderie that I experienced from total strangers transformed me.

It made me want to be the kind of leader that cared about all your problems—not just the ones that I’m supposed to.

I finished basic training as the Iron Soldier of the Cycle and with the kind of friends that make goodbyes hard. I started on my journey to Fort Lewis not thinking about me, but rather missing the “we” I had grown to love and appreciate.?

After arriving at Fort Lewis, my active-duty mentor and battalion commander—LTC Israel Thompson—assigned me as the “BN DTMS manager” but told me he saw me as a sort-of “bonus staff lieutenant”. If basic training gave me a fresh foundation to work with, then LTC Thompson laid the first bricks. He continued to build my confidence by challenging me with difficult tasks and surrounding me with the most competent and humble leaders in his formations. He expected a lot from me, and it felt good to be relied upon and trusted again. The leaders I was surrounded by poured into me, and I learned from each of their unique leadership styles and took countless tools from their kit bags.?

I learned the mission critical importance of maintenance and property, the value in actively listening to the people in your formations, and that the initiative, “people first”, can either be just that—an initiative—or it can be a culture you nourish and cultivate. I learned the importance of quality over quantity and that growth, not perfection, is the goal.

Before I knew it, 18 months had flown by, and it was time for me to submit my application to the academic board for readmission to West Point for the 2019 spring semester. I felt sick to my stomach. I stared at my computer screen for hours unsure of where to begin and feeling unworthy to write anything at all.

At some point you’re told how unworthy you are enough times that you almost start to believe it yourself.

I finally found the courage to put something on paper. And this is what I wrote:?

“How do I characterize and quantify 18 months of reflection, growth, and restoration? By pledging to you that I am not the same young woman I was on May 17th, 2017. It is sobering to admit that the person I was then was young and vain, flawed and underdeveloped for the challenges, demands and enormous responsibility of leading America’s sons and daughters. That person often felt the rules were flexible things to be bent, and that integrity was a distant second to ego and pride. I am proud to say that today I am a changed person. I am disciplined, thoughtful, and mature. Slow to speak and quick to listen. I see life’s journeys through a more refined lens, and I am at peace with the mistakes of my youth knowing now that they will not define my future potential. I am grateful that West Point and the Army saw the value of AMP and this potential in me during a time I could not see it in myself. I now see that this was leadership exemplified.

I should be readmitted to West Point so that I can finish what I have started. I have made mistakes, I have made amends, and I am now ready to do what I have been trained and developed to do for the last 64 months—lead soldiers with integrity, pride, and humility. I would be remiss not to state the following: I believe in God. I believe He has a plan for my life that is divine, joyful, and satisfying. While I am not saying that divine intervention is responsible for my circumstance; I am confident that there is redemption in our mistakes and hope for our failures. I believe this because that is what my life looks like today.”

I reread my AMP statement as I was writing this speech and felt humbled that these words continue to ring true today.?

Since finally graduating—and my family loves to make the joke from Tommy Boy that most people who go to college for 7 years are doctors—I have had the incredible opportunity to serve as a platoon leader, a Deputy Secretary of the General Staff for the command group of the 3d Infantry Division, and now, I serve the Seattle Army Recruiting Battalion. This current job is my favorite, for a lot of reasons, but chiefly because every applicant or future soldier I see reminds me the friends I made once upon a time at basic training.??

So, answer the prompt: “What did West Point teach me?”

West Point taught me a lot—arguably much more than the average cadet. And I stand before you a woman of integrity, determination, and grit because of it…and I am forever grateful.?

One last thing: if you meet a guy—or girl—crazy enough to walk 100 hours with you their firstie year, date you as a 2LT while you’re a specialist, continue dating you when you have to become a cadet—again, and is then willing to elope with you so the army won’t separate you both…

You should definitely marry that person. I did, and it’s been the greatest joy of my life.?

So Others May Dream

So Freedom May Reign

Go Army

Beat Navy?