Some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you've lived so cautiously that you might as well have not lived at all, in which case you fail by default.
You will never truly know yourself or the strength of your relationships until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift.
So given a time-turner, I would tell my twenty-one year old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a checklist of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life...life is difficult and complicated and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you survive its vicissitudes.
I've probably listened to this speech at least ten times today, in part because it's by J.K. Rowling - one of my absolute favorite authors and inspirations - but also because it's something I've really needed to hear as of late.
For those of you who don't know - or who didn't notice on Facebook - I made the decision to apply for Teach for America for the 2014-2015 school year, just to keep my options open after graduation. I should find out within the next few weeks or so whether or not I got accepted for a phone interview, and then whether or not I got accepted to enter the final (in-person) interview stage. Right now I'm confident about my application, but not to the extent that I'm sure I'm going to be accepted. I'm of the firm mindset that whatever happens is meant to happen, and if I don't get into Teach for America then that just means something else is out there for me - something I'm meant to be doing. I've left the application in God's hands, so we'll just have to wait and see if this is truly what He has planned for me.
Anyway, there was a portion of the Teach for America application that included a few short-answer questions, and one of them really stuck out to me. This is what it asked:
A characteristic we've seen in successful corps members is an ability to be honest about where they need to improve. As a corps member, what one skill do you suspect you would most need to develop? (Your reflection doesn't need to be specific to teaching).
I've found that when filling out a job application or doing an interview or what have you, I tend to freak out at that question just a little bit. Okay, a lot. Because you never really stop and think about what you truly need to improve upon until you're faced with a question like this, and in a job interview or application you have to be totally one hundred percent honest! Nobody likes admitting their faults, or okay I may be speaking too generally here so forgive me, but talking about things we need to improve on, or things we know we're bad at sometimes kind of...sucks, and it's incredibly difficult.
I went through quite a bit of personal reflection before answering this question; needless to say it was a lot of chewing on the end of a mechanical pencil and probably getting some kind of led poisoning before I really figured it out. The thing I most need to improve upon is my internal concept of failure and my tendency to be a little too self-critical.
Looking back, I don't think I've ever been so hard on myself over my grades as I was when I was in high school, because I was under the impression that if I brought home anything less than an A- I wouldn't get into college. And I had to get into college because I had to get the hell out of Eugene, Oregon. That was my mentality, and it worked for the most part. I graduated Sheldon High School with a GPA of 3.91 and acceptances (and financial aid packages) to more than one four-year university. Really, the only thing I wasn't proud of were my SAT scores...but we're not going to bring that one up.
Once I got to Seattle University as a freshman, I eased up on that mentality ever so slightly because A. I had no idea if I wanted to go to graduate school or not - who cares what my grades were? and B. College, especially a small liberal arts college, is supposed to be really hard, and you're not supposed to get straight A's all the time unless you're like some kind of superhuman genius. But I found that I was able to both keep up with the work and maintain a decent GPA anyway - keeping me on the Dean's List for five out of the six quarters I spent at Seattle University (which I've actually always found ironic because I don't even know the Dean's name at that school...awkward...).
It wasn't until I reached the magical land of Occidental College that I stretched that mentality so far that it became completely transformed. Right away upon transferring I was thrown into this whole new world where students took four classes instead of three, and professors expected at least 110 percent for their class, no matter the class - core, 100-level, 300-level, you name it. I'm not afraid to admit that come fall semester 2012, I was scared. Not of the school per se, but of the idea that I would be forced to stretch my "perfection" mentality so far that it would no longer be "perfection;" it would be "normal."
Fall semester ended up going pretty smoothly for me. I made some pretty good friends, had some good adventures, met Stana Katic and Kate Walsh, and my grades were compatible with those I got at SU. I started winter break with the mindset that everything was going to be okay, that I made a good decision in transferring and I could survive the extremely intense and demanding academic life.
And then spring semester 2013 started, and it was then I realized that the true test was only just beginning. Being the genius that I am, I stupidly signed up for Gen. Chem. to take as my lab science requirement, because I liked chemistry in high school and I was good at it. Also the professor here at Oxy had really great reviews and he was honestly a really nice guy. I also signed up to take my junior seminar class (for my major) with one of the toughest history professors in the department, and when I say tough I mean like "if you get a B you're like the star of the universe" kind of tough. Add both of those things to a couple of film classes, two jobs, rushing a co-ed fraternity (which I love), joining a new on-campus organization, going on one too many adventures that should have taken the back seat to my school work, some personal problems, chronic insomnia, and some bouts of undiagnosed depression...
It was in spring semester of 2013 that I experienced my first true failure.
Now, I realize my definition of failure might be very different from yours, dear reader, but for this post's sake, just bear with me. In spring semester of 2013 I received my first ever C+, the lowest grade I have ever received in my entire life, in my junior seminar class, and looking back at that grade yesterday while filling out my application made me realize that it's this harsh concept of failure I've invented for myself that's the one thing I need to change the most.
Last semester, my mentality literally got stretched into a long strand of silly putty. But actually, that's how I picture it in my head...I can only imagine how high school Erin would have reacted to seeing that C+ on her transcript. I mean, I cried at this stage of my life, so there's really no telling what could have happened then.
My reaction to seeing that grade, like I said, included a lot of tears, followed by a phone call to Mom and a lecture about how I shouldn't worry too much because I'm still on track to graduate next May that left me feeling about sixty or so percent better. I looked at that letter and thought, I am a failure.
I will never get into graduate school. (If I decide to go...)
I will never get accepted into programs like Teach for America because they won't want to see grades like that.
I will never get a good paying job.
I will never make something of my life.
I am a bad person.
I can't do this.
Now matter how true or untrue, those were the thoughts running through my head, one by one, each cutting me worse than the one before it. These thoughts were like razors, piercing my skin just hard enough to break it, and I was left to feel the sting and watch the blood flow. I was thrown back to my sophomore year of high school, when I actually felt that sting, watched the blood flow. I saw my dark place, and it was welcoming be back like an old friend. I knew I had finally met my own definition of failure, and I had no one to blame but myself. Yes, I could have done some things differently last semester, and I could scream and yell at my tough-as-nails professor, but the point is I didn't, and yelling at him for unfair grading (which it kind of was because every grade I received on assignments in that class was a B- or higher so it doesn't really make sense why I got a C+...) now wouldn't accomplish anything.
I beat myself up so hard about this little letter, until I looked at the Teach for America application one more time and realized...it's just that. A stupid little letter, and that stupid little letter does not get to define me. That tough-as-nails professor does not get to define me. In case you want to know what I wrote in response to the question, it had something to do with how I need to stop being so harsh on myself with respect to my concept of failure; I need to instead take my "failures" and use them to better myself, and to do good in the world. There is so much good to be done in the world, and a letter does not get to stop me from doing it. Teaching young students how to be good and kind and smart people and make a difference in their lives and in the world is so much more important than my grade in a stupid junior seminar class.
Looking at it now, I'm kind of at that phase where I can see it as "just one C," but I still feel that sting of the "first time." I'm still struggling to accept what happened, but I'm also on my way toward accepting that some failure in life is inevitable, like Ms. Rowling said. Occidental is a really difficult school, and it's supposed to be. Every semester is supposed to push me harder than I've ever been pushed before; spring semester 2013 just so happened to push me over.
But I'm not going to be pushed over anymore.
~Erin
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