It’s because of Starbucks, it’s because of you!
I am a 53-year-old Grandmother and I wear an Arizona State University pin on my green Starbucks apron. The pin often invites conversation from customers and each time, the exchange leads to the subject of my late-in-life pursuit of a Bachelor’s degree. I am always pleased to share with customers that I am only able to attend college now because Starbucks is paying my tuition. Becoming an ASU student through the Starbucks Achievement Plan, or SCAP, has not only enabled me to earn a Bachelor’s Degree in English, but it has also provided me with the opportunity to say thank you to those who are making it possible—each time I go to work.
My husband and I have been married for thirty-one years, during which time we raised three children to adulthood. He works as a 7th grade Science teacher and I’ve had various hourly jobs, either as an assistant in an office or classroom or in the customer service industry. We live modestly, but we’ve always had enough. We paid for our daughter’s wedding, we helped pay for our son’s semester studying abroad at Oxford University and helped another son through an internship on the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii. To not recognize my blessings would be criminal, but as my children grew older, an inner aching developed: I desired to play a more substantial role in my community. We live in a small desert town that is in desperate need of teachers, and remembering how influential my own High School English teacher was during my formidable teenage years, I’ve often thought I could be effective in that role. But I couldn’t play that part in anyone’s life because I wasn’t qualified. By not respecting the importance of academia as a young adult, I was looking at living out the second half of my life being disqualified for jobs because of my lack of education. I didn’t like the math of the equation, but there wasn’t extra money for me to go to college. And who takes out student loans in their late 40s or early 50s, when they are so close to retirement?
Thanks to Starbucks, all of that is changing. It seems like yesterday that I was over two years away, one year away, six months away, 9 weeks away from graduation. Now, the nearness of the ceremony produces butterflies. Time, and again, I share my story with customers, and inevitably men and women, my age or older, lock eyes with me and nod encouragingly, offering sentiments of “Good for you!” or “It’s never too late!” And always, “Congratulations!” And time, and again, I respond, “It’s because of Starbucks, it’s because of you!”
Perhaps I would have found a different way to pay for college, but SCAP gave me something more than tuition. SCAP allowed me to live in a place where gratitude was at the forefront of my mind for an extended amount of time. For nearly three years, I’ve experienced what it feels like to say, “Thank you for choosing Starbucks!” and truly mean it. For it is the customers, from the first-timers to the every-day regulars, who are helping me change my life. I am always aware that the job I am doing at Starbucks is part of my education. Accurately steaming the milk for a Blonde Flat White and making the customer connection is just as important as studying for my Spanish final.
I have been inspired by the unselfishness of a company that is willing to pay partners’ tuitions, which will ultimately enable them to leave their jobs. At first, it appears to be illogical, but it is this backward thinking that changes our future. Howard Schultz once said in an interview, “we can’t build a great company and we can’t build a great enduring country if we’re constantly leaving people behind.”
I once felt left behind, but now my dreams are beginning to materialize. I have been hired in three local school districts to work as a Substitute Teacher while I pursue my Teaching Credential and Master’s Degree in Education. I cannot wait for the days when I will hopefully inspire the love of learning onto a group of students. It truly is never too late to become who you were supposed to be.
Jacquelyn Sill
ASU Graduate, Class of 2019
The verse was quoted to my husband and I when we met with the senior pastor of a large church in California following the announcement of my affair and the firing of my husband from his ministerial position. We went to the home of this pastor seeking advice and encouragement at one of the scariest times in our marriage. (Not, THE scariest time in our marriage…just one of them. Trust me, affairs may be bad news but, now that we are a little further away from it, my husband and I would both contest that burying our 19-month-old little girl was far more frightening).
He has given us precious promises. Wow. That lovely truth started my mind spinning to the variety of places claiming God’s promises. I remember hearing a hymn instructing me to stand on the promises of God. I’ve read where Corrie Ten Boom said “Let God’s promises shine on your problems”. And I once saw a really pretty meme with a sunset and a barn that said “God’s promises are like the stars; the darker the night the brighter they shine.” It has to be true if it has a sunset and barn, right?
As I began to pray, one thing became clear. I could see with clarity all the promises that are not from God. He never promised a lot of things that I hope for. God never promised that my vitamins would absorb, that the dog’s vet bill would be less than I made in tips last night, or that my hair color would last. He never promised that I wouldn’t need two new tires when it’s most inconvenient, or that Bank of America would wave their policies for loan approval. God didn’t promise that that your child’s self esteem would be high, or your interest rates low. He didn’t promise that your Mother-in-Law would be kind, that your neighbors would be friendly, or that you would conceive a child. He didn’t promise that our jobs would be fulfilling, that we would be cancer free, or that babies wouldn’t die. God never promised that there wouldn’t continue to be wrongful executions. He didn’t promise that slavery would end. He didn’t promise that we would no longer see injustice in our homes, our work places, our country and our world. He didn’t promise a lot of things I hope for.
So what did he promise?
We are dependent on the second list because that is God’s promise. While the first list is glorious and certainly full of things I wouldn’t turn away, do you realize what happens when we have the first list without the second? If we were to receive all the things that we think we want, and not be clinging to God’s promise to sustain us when problems come knocking, do you know what we’d be? We would be a bunch of middle class Americans whining about all the other promises that were not fulfilled. In other words, to have the first set of promises fulfilled takes us exactly where we are today.
When I was fourteen-years-old I joined my High School’s Track Team. Impressing my classmates with my agile Kenyan-like abilities, I won the team’s MVP award and garnished the nickname “Jackrabbit Jackie” for my hare-footed speed. Okay, well maybe that’s not altogether accurate. What actually happened might have fewer accolades.
As a teenager, the shoes were not my favorite–remember, I only wore them twice. The metal cleats sparkle in my memory not because of the way they gripped the ground seeing me safely over each hurdle, but because of the indelible message my father sent me upon their purchase.
Recently, I tried a new book and introduced her to the “If You Give” series. There are many to choose from: If You Give a Cat a Cupcake, If You Give a Moose a Muffin, If You Give a Pig a Pancake and several others, as well. The original book in the series, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie describes the potential trials readers will face if they give a mouse a chocolate chip cookie. It was the literary success of this rodent’s post-cookie adventure that led to sequels and spawned the franchise.
From sunrise snuggles to bedtime, the toddler who holds my heart repeated, “Mouse. Cookie.” She had no problem communicating her intentions. She wanted to read and reread and learn what happens if you give a mouse a cookie. 
I have never posted a blog from a car as it traveled eighty-one MPH through the desert, but once I recognized the lies in my head and the seriousness of the battle I am fighting, I knew I needed some reinforcement.
Jackie Sill 