A Review of Freshman Year: Lessons Learned

 

I was at a diner with some of my friends from school (one of them being the girl Jordyn I wrote about in my “first day of school” piece— it turns out I actually had spelled her name wrong there) and we were eating plate after plate of savory waffle fries with cookies n’ cream milkshakes on the side to help wash them down. We were joking about how healthy we were being— vegetables (fries), dairy/protein (milkshakes) and fruits (ketchup) make for a well balanced meal— and it felt as if nothing really mattered at that moment. We had just completed our freshman year and not a single thing could have ruined our day and our plans to go to the beach that afternoon.

Well, nothing except a thunderstorm.

And so, with heavy sighs, we decided that the beach plans we had made would have to be rescheduled (we were sad… but not too sad because come on, it was the first day of summer break). I called my mom and told her the news. She said she would pick me up from the diner in twenty minutes. One by one, my friends left. After five minutes, or so, I was alone. It was just me, staring out the large diner window. As I sat there waiting, I started reflecting on the year I had just completed.

For starters, the mere fact that I had a whole group of friends to go to lunch with was something that I couldn’t have done in September. Actually, up until around November or so, the number of friends I had at Greenwich Academy that I could honestly say would ever invite me anywhere was a number I could count on one hand. Wait; scratch that— it was a number that a person who accidentally cut off his own thumb and pinky could count on one hand. In the first few months of school I was very self-conscious and shy around the people at Greenwich Academy. GA is a school with predominantly wealthy students… very wealthy students; this can get very intimidating. Not just that, but the whole atmosphere of GA, though the kids were generally welcoming, was and still is very pressuring. My personality was not able to shine through because I felt as if I needed to conform and try to blend in with the other students. I wanted to shop on Greenwich Avenue every day because that’s what the other kids did (Greenwich Avenue, or “the Ave” is a street in town lined with high-end shops and gourmet restaurants and basically everything that cost more than that poor dismembered guy with no thumb and pinky can count on his hand… multiplied by 300. It was where all the GA girls shopped, so whenever I ventured into a boutique on the Ave, I bumped into a classmate.) Stores like J. Crew, Vineyard Vines, and Lilly Pulitzer— those were the stores I wanted to shop in, just so I could be like everybody else. Turns out, I don’t even like their pastel, oddly shaped clothes! This may sound cliché, but when I kind of gave up trying to just fit in, making friends became so much easier. I began to tell jokes that I found were funny, and talk about topics that I liked to talk about— and apparently other people found my jokes funny, and liked the topics I liked as well! Many of my classmates have actually told me that my individuality was one thing they liked the best about me! Who knew?

Another thing that had been happening a lot during freshman year was that I was arguing a lot more with my parents, especially my dad, over trivial things. The arguments were annoying me because I didn’t always come out a winner, and because I do not like to accept defeat. Even when I knew I was wrong, I would just continue to argue because I felt my pride was at stake. I’ve always considered myself a pretty good debater, so sometimes I could hold on for a little with my illogical points. However, each time I would eventually just end up spewing out nonsensical words. These pointless arguments frustrated my parents, and they were taking their toll on me as well. I felt as if each time we fought (though we made up each time), the distance between us was getting larger and larger. Somewhere along the line, I began to understand that the fights we were having just were not worth it— for example, is it really worth it to argue about how loudly my brother can talk in restaurants? More importantly though, even if we did argue, if I knew I was wrong I should have just said “you’re right”. I learned that it is actually better to admit that you were wrong and accept that, than to continue. It is not even losing, its merely realizing you were wrong and being mature about it.

At the same time that this was happening, I was learning another, completely opposite lesson— to speak up. While I am brave (and very headstrong) around my family and friends, among others I can be quite shy and timid. I’ve always struggled with answering questions in school because of doubt. Even when I knew I was right, I would still doubt myself. What if I’m wrong and everyone judges me? What if the teacher judges me, I was always thinking. Especially since I was new at GA this year, these questions floating around in my conscience shot through my body and inhibited me from answering a question I knew I knew the answer to. Each time this happened it was like some force was pushing down on my arms to make sure I could not raise them and at the same time zipping my lips and throwing away the single key. And each time, someone else would answer the question correctly with what I considered my answer. I think my turning point was when I got back a biology test and looked through it. Immediately, I realized that the teacher had marked one question wrong when it was actually right. I wanted so badly to just ask her to check it over one time, but my body was refusing to cooperate. Somehow, I built up enough courage to raise my hand, but when the teacher called on me, everyone stared. Those same doubts flowed up to my brain again. What if the answer you wrote was wrong and everybody laughs, my mind asked me. Yet my mouth just started moving and before I knew it the teacher was checking that question and changing my grade.

I’ve always had the tendency to procrastinate. While I do not get homework done the morning its due, I’ve never been the type of person to get a huge assignment done the first week, or to start studying for a test three days ahead. My grades are not typically affected by that… at least they were not in middle school. High school, that is a different story, but I believed that it wouldn’t be. Right away I started noticing changes. The workload was much heavier, my free time was lessening, and I was getting more and more (and more and more and more…) stressed. I began having mental breakdowns in my room— literally, I would start shaking and pacing. Yet my habits remained the same: I fooled around during study halls, I studied for tests the day before, and I acted as if nothing had changed. That worked for one month and then it started really affecting me. I decided it was time to change my attitude towards schoolwork. I began to start planning out my schedule at the beginning of the week and studied for tests not just the day before. These strategies really helped me adapt to ninth grade, high school, and GA in general. (And another plus: I haven’t had another breakdown since October!)

Unarguably, the biggest and most important lesson I’ve learned this year is one that encompasses all the other lessons mentioned here. That lesson is that there are always going to be decisions you, and you alone, will have to make. Decisions like making the choice to just be yourself even though it is easier to be everybody else. Decisions like when you know you are wrong, choosing to be quiet; but when you know you’re right, choosing to be vocal. Decisions like choosing perfecting that history term paper over watching that one episode of the horrible-yet-AMAZING reality television show because you know it will help you in the long run. Decisions like choosing not to drink even though everyone else is. Decisions like choosing to swim the extra lap or run the extra few meters even though your friends all “have to go to the bathroom”. Those decisions will not always be easy to make, because yeah, the Bachelor is an addicting show. And yeah, chatting with friends in the bathroom is SO much more fun than pushing through grueling exercise. And, many times you will come across decisions that are not exactly black or white. But do what you think is right, and most of the time you will be satisfied with your decision. Do not avoid the decision either, because then you will end up in an area that is the equivalent of “uh” and “um” in writing and speaking. An area where you are not going anywhere, where you are not getting anything done. Even if you make a couple of mistakes it is fine. Mistakes can be recovered from. Those wrong turns can have a positive ending.

Just when I finish reflecting, I get a text from my mom— it is the same text I got from her at the end of every school day. It says two words: I’m here. I walk outside, and the rain has slowed down a bit. I flashback to the first day of school. It was raining then too. I’m not sure why but remembering that made me so happy. It was as if the year had finally come full-circle.

These are the lessons I’ve learned in my freshman year. I cannot say that I have mastered them yet. I still need to work on participation sometimes, and I still occasionally refuse to admit I am wrong. But I’m okay with that. That means there are still more lessons to learn.