Week 3: Preparing to Fail (spiritually, that is)

Lukewarm

It was never like I fully committed to one side or the other, but that’s not how change usually happens anyhow.  Typically, people don’t decide overnight that their morals are going to be entirely flipped upside down.  No, convincing someone to change their moral beliefs, especially to dark and evil ones is a cunning and tricky business.  It is done by the sinking of emotional hooks (like mentioned before, the rousing of empathy), or imparting believable, yet misleading information, typically to the vulnerable within a transition to an unfamiliar environment.  Colleges have become a breeding ground for such deception, and that’s a crying shame.  In our society, college freshmen are at their last stage of innocence, trying to embark into adulthood, and none of this agenda is preparing them for it.  University campuses breed lukewarm Christians, and suddenly progressive-thinking adolescents, who were raised as independents or conservatives all of their lives.  

I think earlier education is to blame too, of course.  It was in a highschool Honors English class where I received my first C+ because I decided to write an essay on the topic of “The American Dream” from a conservative standpoint.  Still learning how to write persuasive essays from a D.B.Q. standpoint, yet a talented and well-researched writer, I felt that a C+ was a little bit harsh.  My brand new, twenty-something, caucasian, female teacher naturally disagreed with me, even without being able to pinpoint grammatical, structural, or rhetorically-related errors in the essay.  I learned she had expected me to write something regarding a minority immigrant and what “The American Dream” means to them, even though this was not explicitly stated in class or written directions.  I guess at fifteen years old I should’ve understood her ridiculous implications.  

The Value of a Letter

Even being afraid to bring the essay home to my academically strict parents, I did anyway, and was pleasantly surprised when they did not blame me for the grade.  After examining the directions and then the essay themselves, then hearing the discussion I had with my teacher, I was not punished.  I was told rather to argue with my teacher again for a higher grade or “Write how she wants you to write so you can keep your grade up.”  By hearing this from my parents, I learned that grades are more important than the truth, so they must have an extremely high value.  Now, as an adult I believe that punishment for a low grade, or putting such an emphasis on high grades in general, are absolutely preposterous things to impress upon a child.  

I hold no resentment towards my parents because they were just teaching me what they were taught, but their lessons are in part to blame for my idolatry of higher education, perfect grades, and professional careers.  I’d like to be clear, once we grow into adulthood we must stop blaming those around us for our beliefs and problems because we are now capable of working to solve things ourselves. Only because of my own experiences with higher education do I now see through the veil, understanding that even modern primary education structure is severely flawed.  The government raising our children before and in college?--I don’t think so.  For my whole life I was taught that straight A’s are the only acceptable grades, college is the only route for me, and that a professional career is the only way I’m going to make a solid living and be happy.  It wasn’t until much later that my own voice of reason began to speak loudly in the corners of my mind, saying things like “What group of people determined that these are the guidelines to a proper political science class?” and “Who qualified these academic establishments to grade my essays on their opinions?”

By sharing with you all of these experiences I don’t intend to discredit higher education as an entirety, because I’ve learned many wonderful and valuable lessons/skills in a multitude of classes.  For example, without university, I would’ve never gained the opportunities to work firsthand in a research lab and out in the field, surveying the public.  I would’ve never learned how to even properly read and interpret research either!  I worked in two different labs during my undergraduate years and took a few research methods classes which really hammered down the high standards held for authentic, unbiased, clinical,  empirical data.  I just wish that all modern studies and metastudies were held to such requirements these days…

  Harvard Material, Not Really Though

“High grades and higher education only” are the standards that my parents set for me, never intending that this way of life might make me suffer, but hoping for the opposite–that I might never suffer.  I don’t think that my parents ever wanted me to put my GPA above God or above genuine honesty in my writings, but their continual emphasis on “acceptable” report cards and “award-winning essays” taught me to believe otherwise.  My parents are quite selfless people, really exemplifying generosity in wanting to give their children every inch of love and joy, and that includes their ideas of future prosperity for us.  Today, I see the veil being slowly lifted over their eyes as well, as we learn together about what the American education system is really made of.

So, back to highschool–as a result of this upbringing, school became a kind of “god” for me, and frequently took the place of actual faith and religion.  As I’ve mentioned before though, I wasn’t necessarily an “easy child.”  Increasingly strong-willed in my teenage years, I’d fight back and argue with my parents over why I “didn’t want to study for this'' or why it was “useless to take this class”, but deep down I’d shudder at the thought of receiving a failing grade.  So I still studied, I still standardized-test-took (which I now also understand is a ludicrous concept), and did all of the extracurriculars in between.  I vigorously strived in my many AP and honors courses, but I definitely wasn’t that kid in all AP classes, who gave 100% effort all the time to them, either.  Harvard was but a pipe dream for my parents, because some days I wanted to read Stephen King more than Honors Algebra.  At seventeen, I’d much rather hold a theological/existential conversation at my sleepover, at one in the morning, than study for my SAT’s.  At eighteen, I’d far rather spend an early June day at the beach reading a book of my choice, than spend it sitting in a crowded classroom, having to raise my hand to use the bathroom.  Instead of my homework, the show “Friends” was of deep comfort to me at a time when I didn’t have any real friends to confide in.  Despite my countless volunteer hours and club leadership, my atrocious math skills certainly would’ve kept me out of Harvard as well, as those grades never edged above a B-.     

So at graduation, my name didn’t appear on the dean’s list of our highschool, but it had certainly appeared at the top of the “Cast list” when we’d put on musicals and plays!  Despite the propaganda and factory-work conditioning we students endured, I have many great memories from my highschool years.  I’m eternally thankful for the true friends I’d met along the way, especially through theater.  A few teachers left large impacts on my soul, and I’ll love them forever for that.  I give all glory to God for my now best friend, whom I’ve recently become Godparent to, Fotini.  In highschool I would’ve never thought that Madison, now Fotini, would be my roommate, closest confidant, and goddaughter.  We now support each other on our Christian and educational journeys.  While I wasn’t enough for the Ivy-League dream that my parents so desperately gripped onto, apparently my academic efforts were enough to receive an acceptance to The Pennsylvania State University.  I attended full time at the main campus, where my name did eventually end up on the dean’s list.  As I haven’t existed much past that point (I’m only 24 as I write this now), I would say that my undergraduate years were my most formative.

Wordless

I’m sure many, if not most people who completed four or more years of college would describe it as a “whirlwind”, because that’s the first word that came to mind for me at least.  Well, perhaps they would describe it as such if they actually grew and developed, that is.  I will forever be a firm believer that each coddled child should explore outside of their hometown and choose to live a little bit far away, thus throwing themselves into the unknown.  Plunging directly into cold water is how you best learn to survive.  Now I’m not saying a large university in an upper middle-class town delivers the same intense shock as an ice bath…but it did indeed give a vast change away from my comfort zone.  I give great credit to my time well spent in college, because it led to my emotional, spiritual, and mental state today.  If it weren’t for living on my own, whilst juggling classes, extra curriculars, and jobs, I wouldn’t have grown into such a place now.  You would think it’s a given, but only with wisdom have I learned that the only way to true success is through “doing the difficult” and purposely immersing oneself in complex jobs, tasks, and environments.  Amidst balance, one should consistently challenge themself with additional tasks, new hobbies and explorations.          

My first year at Penn State was an exceptionally interesting, fun, and overstimulating time.  With endless introductions to new syllabi, locations, professors, classmates, club members, pastors, preachers, and concepts, the first semester certainly knocked the wind out of me.  This whirlwind was metaphorical and literal.  Me, Julia, an extrovert if there ever was one, suddenly fell quiet.  Conversational from six months on (according to my mother), I had finally met my own silence after eighteen years.  I found myself often wordless in many social contexts and not because I couldn’t think of anything to say, but because I felt so overwhelmed with choices of what to say and what to ask.  Never suffering from social anxiety previously, a whole new realm of anxiety unfolded around me.  The performing arts teenager who thrived in public speaking classes suddenly had to recenter and reevaluate everything she thought was previously well-said.  I was enveloped in a headspace with other querying minds who raised points I’d never considered and mentioned topics that took me days to dissect.   

It was humbling in a way, but also left me vulnerable to indoctrination.  When you don’t know what to say, others can easily tell you what to say.  When you’re not sure what is righteous, then others can decide for you.  In every class I took I wanted to ask a million questions about the content and the professors’ lives (just because I find people so interesting!), and in my clubs I wanted to get to know each member so well, but both are equally impossible!  Often when I opened my mouth, I didn’t like the words that followed and I felt “less-than” everyone else there.  I had to learn a lot of self-control and self-reflection, which didn’t come with ease.  Now that I’m more grown, I see a healthier way to express this type of humility, in the way that Abba Tithoes taught.  Abba Tithoes, one of the blessed desert Fathers, a monk of our Orthodox faith, said “The way of humility is this: self-control, prayer, and thinking yourself inferior to all creatures.”