That’s An Education – Part 1

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Staying on the Sidewalk

There are a lot of college degrees in my family. It’s not a family legacy, though. It only took two generations to take root. Now that it’s rooted, it’s kind of expected. Not in a “do this no matter what” kind of way, but in a “this is the only way you will ever succeed” kind of way. I’m better off, I’m told, to follow the family path to success. It’s not just my family that is rooted here. It’s how society has rooted itself, too. 

Society says I should succeed a certain way. The subtle push to do what I’m supposed to do is for my own good, isn’t it? This is even more difficult to break from, I think, than constant overt pushy pressure to do something. It’s passive aggressive, and it’s done without awareness.

It’s hearing “you’re so good at that” and “you should think about being a…” over and over that got me stuck in the idea that I should follow what I was good at. That’s what successful people do. It felt so empty, though. Like I was chasing something that was never going to let me catch it. Like I was running to something that wasn’t really waiting for me.

I’m realizing what school before college really taught me. It wasn’t all of my aptitudes, although I did find some. It wasn’t how to function in college, although my college prep class supposedly did that. And it absolutely wasn’t anything about what the world could hold for me. Not even a glimpse. Maybe I wasn’t listening. Strangely, though, I still learned something. 

What high school taught me was that society likes the idea of straight lines. It likes direct routes. Staying on the sidewalk and not touching the grass. It’s very efficient and I get why it is necessary. Here’s the problem it creates for me, though. Sidewalks are limited. They lead only to a few predetermined destinations.

I get that it’s so much easier to teach children this way. That a straight line is the best and most effective way to get to the right destination. It’s physics, right? The shortest distance to anywhere is a straight line. The most efficient way that uses the least amount of energy is always best. That’s what I learned before college. That it’s better to stay on the sidewalk. Leaving it is risky. So I got on and stayed for a while. Until I looked around and saw all the awesome stuff that wasn’t part of that sidewalk. When I saw all of it, I had to go.

So Many Doors and a Master Key

I never really responded well to recognition. I never felt worthy of it. By accepting praise, I felt obligated to work harder at whatever that recognized thing was. Isn’t that the only way not to disappoint people? They have praised me for what I did well, and now I have to get better or show them something new to get more praise. The result was that I didn’t want to try. I would rather be thought of as really good at something than put more effort into it and risk that praise being taken away and someone being disappointed. The road to perfectionism? Maybe…

This is where I lived. In a world that told me I needed to get better at something because I was already good at it. This kept me from asking myself if that something excited me and was worth my time. Someone saw something in me and, to be worthy, I had to follow it to succeed. But, time spent this way took me nowhere. I was learning for someone else and ignoring myself.

The anxiety of learning because someone else thought I should only fueled my need to be perfect. I didn’t learn that failure is an option and that failure teaches, too. Only by trying and failing at what I want to try for myself teaches this lesson. No one around me talked about this. It was always “going to all work out”, they said. It would get better as long as I kept trying it their way.

Those goals that are set by society didn’t work for me. I know it’s not the only way. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. I can test the edges. What someone sees in me can be a start, but the next step is my buy in. What I want. After owning what I want, I can push through to figure out if learning this thing or that thing brings the fire of my passion. Not just the temporary heat of someone else’s praise.

I also never responded well to punishment or criticism. It was never motivational. It still isn’t. Even now as I write this blog, I’m positive that my Mom will initiate a conversation for the thousandth time about how I should put more effort into whatever the topic of the day is. Something that will magically relate to a college major. Maybe this time I can be that shiny “thing” because she just figured out I’m so good at it. 

We’ve had so many of those conversations. She means them to be positive, but they are critical. They are her attempt to replace the ideas I have for my life with the ones that make sense to her. Life in the societal framework that she still accepts as the shortest way to get where she’s positive I need to go. On the sidewalk. Please don’t walk on the grass, Callie. You will fail. 

Let me fail. I’m choosing not to go your way. There are so many other ones. School is not the only place to learn about the world or gain skill. Maybe it’s a faster way to be accepted into a certain and more comfortable world. It’s probably a confirmation that I’m good at something, but it’s full of things that I don’t want. Wanting a life on lots of sidewalks or in the grass or in the dirt, or even one on the rocks, is so much more exciting to me now. I’m ready to open those doors. No one can keep them locked unless I believe they hold the keys. I don’t believe they do anymore. I am the key master.

Can you find your keys?

Check out “A Mathematical Life” on the Poems page