“We tend not to choose the unknown which might be a shock or a disappointment or simply a little difficult to cope with. And yet it is the unknown with all its disappointments and surprises that is the most enriching.”
Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
In 8th grade, course selection was completed on Infinite Campus. An absurd, nostalgic thought, to not have to tolerate the tedium and frustration that often resulted from my experiences with Schoolinks. Nonetheless, even amidst such changes such as the district’s ever-shifting preferences, even amidst the haphazardly stacked college brochures purposefully confined to the corners of my desk, I am reminded of that time.
It was 8th grade, yet everyone around me was already planning out their high school careers—maximizing their AP classes, testing into higher-level classes, taking a few courses over the summer. Meanwhile, I unknowingly stumbled into being what you might call an optimal set of courses. I never intended it to happen, but in a sequence of events that saw me registering for classes because of my friends’ initiatives or teachers’ recommendations, it somehow did.
Now, once again, I cannot bring myself to see far beyond the end of the school year, cannot even fathom what a future at college is like without even knowing which one I will end up attending. If we were in an alternative universe where Covid-19 didn’t happen, maybe my life would be more put together. But because of quarantine, I was also forced to confront the veracity of my ambitions and to unravel an illusion so seamless that I even deluded myself.
Once again, I remembered that I was unknowingly stumbling in the dark, not sure where I wanted to go. The projects I wanted to take up mostly for the sake of an impressive college resume (for the affirmation that I was demonstrating initiative and passion by the end of high school) fell by the wayside. After all, if quarantine was worth anything at all, then it at least isolated me from the pressure to succeed and to prove myself. Although I have tried, I am not one of those individuals who found renewed purpose in their self-isolation — no new workout regimen, no new comprehensive study plan, no start-up or business ventures. The closest I came to that was picking up my long-neglected writing hobby again. It was not much, but at least it was a start.
A start during junior year, however, seems a little too late in the face of high school’s end. Walking in the high school halls, enclosed by small lockers and fluorescent lights, I knew that I was a senior but I couldn’t feel it. What happened to my out-of-state field trips, trips to national competitions where I could laugh with my friends on the plane? Where was my niche, the thing I could call mine and that everyone would know me for? What was my magnum opus of high school, the proof of my existence during this time? I was a sophomore who woke up in a self I didn’t recognize.
Or maybe the ideals of the past simply were obsolete. College, I once believed, was the final decider of my fate. But I look to my brother: intelligent, kind, and qualified in every way (even if I loathe to admit it) and realize that this was just the beginning of my life. I am allowed to not know where I’m going, and to have “starts” to myself that didn’t have to be for the sole purpose of a college application, and to be a bit of a wanderer.
Yes, I have doubts. I want the opportunity to explore different passions and disciplines, to develop my love for writing and psychology beyond hobbies — such a hope would be much more difficult to accomplish if I enrolled in a college in which I already decided on a safe, lucrative STEM major. Unlike 8th grade, I am not sure if I could once again stumble into the unknown and accidentally have success at my fingertips. But even as experiences disappoint, even as I strand myself, directionless, I cleanse my ambitions, I give myself time to discover meaning and purpose again.
The horizon looms close; it is a lifetime away. I am not ending.
Hi Jennifer,
Wow, I absolutely loved your piece. Is it appropriate to say that it read like a college essay? Anyways, it doesn’t matter. I really appreciated your dissection of the pandemic’s impact on your mentality and approach to the future. I think that many (including myself) dismiss the idea of putting out our thoughts on how COVID impacted us onto paper, because it’s so all-consuming, and we don’t want to speak to the power of its influence over us. Your approach to highlighting your development over COVID was truly fearless. You were not afraid to talk about your fall throughs and disenchantments, and I think that makes your COVID story incredibly genuine. And to the bigger picture, I loved reading about your development as a high school student. I definitely agree that we were robbed of so many experiences, from traveling for competitions to establishing deeper connections, we truly lost so much. But there’s a beauty in fate and the unknown, and I guess we’ll see where it takes us.
Ella
Jennifer that was heartfelt, poignant, nostalgic, and a whole set of words I’d put here if I was compelled to reference a thesaurus. It’s kind of scary how much I feel my experience was referenced in yours. While I’d say that my niche itself didn’t dissipate through COVID, core experiences that form them did. Gone were the enthralling tournaments, flights, conventions, and mall food courts. The ability to be present was lost to the blue light-emitting Antimicrobial Corning ® Gorilla ® Glass of our Chromebooks, slowly sucking our souls through each Zoom waiting room we faced. But I think that in some ways I grew through COVID in that I became a bit more resilient, learned how to cook just a tad bit better, and can now somewhat embroider. The future is scarily uncertain but I think we’ll all grow to meet it.