I remember it all in incredible detail. The seven-period days, AP courses, late nights studying, long college applications, the teachers that became familiar, and the rhythm of cramming, all of this in the effort to maintain an acceptable GPA to my dream school. In high school, I felt like the mission was all in numbers: making the highest grades in class, the highest GPA possible, the most AP classes, class rank, and the sheer number of clubs I was involved in.
I believed numbers to be a key player in the game of college admissions. And they were. High school was a numbers game. When I sat in class, I had a goal of using the information being taught to me to achieve a high unit test score. Which, truthfully, is not bad in and of itself. The downfall in this is the material retention.
I rarely remembered content from year to year. This is because I did not mull over it to actually learn it. I made my brain become temporarily adept in the material to make high test scores. My brain was in the practice of test taking, straining, and ultimately, forgetting.
After I was accepted into the University of Georgia, I felt like I had no reason to keep attending my high school classes. It was in this moment that I realized how sad that outlook was to the person I wanted to be. I grew up loving school, learning, and stuffing my brain full of whatever experiences were given to it. Yet by the end of high school, I found myself going through the motions. I had been drilled down over the years to believe that the meaning of it all was simply to make high grades.
And all at once, I dismissed this belief. Maybe too late, but still, I found myself at this realization before college. I promised myself to be intentional in my learning. I promised to actually listen in class, even if that meant actively listening instead of just copying down notes from the power-point slides presented in class. I promised myself to find joy in learning again.
At first, it seems like the sacrifice of this is the coveted "A". Breaking away from the cramming rhythm was scary to me. I had found success and comfort in the cycle of fake learning. After all, it had taken me this far.
Yet when I started being intentional, I found even more success. I found subjects I had never been interested in before to be genuinely intriguing when I thought about how they applied to the real world. It was easier to study when I was more interested in the material than the test grade.
College gives you the opportunity to reshape your thought processes. Which, I will be the first to admit, is not easy. It's hard to break away from what is comfortable. But the truth of the matter is that growth cannot coexist with comfort. Growth comes from being comfortable with being uncomfortable.
When I ran track in middle school, my favorite quote was from John D. Rockefeller, who once said, "Do not be afraid to give up the good and go for the great." I thought of this quote during long track practices, during my races, and before I fell asleep each night. I wanted nothing more to let go of what was simply "good" and "comfortable". I wanted great. And greatness comes from being uncomfortable.
And I believe that true, genuine knowledge can only come from being intentional. It comes from not fixating on numbers or other fleetingly worthless things. To be great, one must give up what they find comfortable.
And for me, that was mindlessly stuffing my brain. For you, this might resonate differently. But at the end of the day, my goal in everything is to consistently give up the good to ultimately achieve the great.
