Sunday, February 17, 2013

Welcome To Your Existential Crisis

I like to think of myself as a pretty "go-with-the-flow" kinda person...hrm, okay, I like to think of myself as someone who tries her damn best to allow her life to unfurl, and if something isn't planned to the last second, that's okay. If something wasn't going well in my life (like, it was more than mildly unpleasant and for an extended period of time), I fixed it. Torturous middle school not your thing? Go to Delta instead. Can't stand the concept of being an adult? Go live in an ashram. I didn't plan for these things to happen, but I'm pleased with these impulsive decisions; what I first deemed as cowardly and escapist where actually some of the greatest experiences of my life.

For most of my life, I've taken the un-traditional route, not realizing that there was a "normal" path that so many of my peers took. I didn't realize that my mode of education could be looked at as inferior or sub-standard. I just went to school, went home, ate my snack, and proceeded to watch episodes of That's So Raven. In high school I crept out from underneath that rock enough to realize the connotations "alternative school" held, but I chose to ignore it. It was only 11th grade--when I took a full year of grade level/AP courses--that I could title as "traditional." And even then I would traipse between Delta and State High to learn about romantic poets.

Now I've entered the time of my life that has been planned ever since I was born. My dad started setting aside my college fund, and while it wasn't named "PSU fund," my father calculated about how much he would need for the discounted price. In 6th grade our class wrote letters to our future selves, and even when I was convinced that my greatest goal in life was to meet Raven Symone, my future collegiate aspirations never wavered. Everyone in my family has gone to college; hell, everyone in my immediate family has either gone to or is attending grad school. It was just a thing that Marshalls and/or McKelveys did. I never questioned the choice one had in going to college. It seemed as normal to me as breathing, or drinking coffee. I didn't have a problem extending my education--I liked learning well enough--but I wasn't in love with learning. I didn't hole up in my room and read Shakespeare (I did, however, hole up in my room and read Jodi Picoult). I tolerated my education, but I didn't realize the massive impact it could have on me. It makes me wonder--if I had grown up where continuing one's education wasn't the norm, would I have had a strong desire to attend college?

Don't get me wrong, I love Penn State. And ever since my first semester here, I've become obsessed with learning. I realize I've spent 18 years in a bit of a haze (but that's a whole other blog post waiting to happen), so it's refreshing to really grasp the reading I'm assigned, or to get a thrill out of a math exam (I know, right? A MATH EXAM). But there are other ways to learn--I mean, that guy from Good Will Hunting never stepped foot in a classroom, and he beat intellectual battles with people from Harvard. And was he drowning in student loans? Sure, college has become the societal norm, and it's increasingly difficult to get a job without at least a Bachelor's Degree, but how many people actually want to be here, sprinting in those fifteen minutes in between $500 classes?

I don't have an answer. I've grown up to appreciate learning and to realize the values of a college and post-grad degree, but did I choose to apply to college because it was ingrained in my head, or because deep-down, I knew that was the best course of action to take?

The planned is sometimes scarier than the un-planned. (Unless it's a baby).

Namaste. 

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