When I took chemistry in 10th grade, I fell in love. Each redox reaction was a puzzle to balance; the numbers and symbols on the periodic table were pieces I could link together to make entirely new substances. I understood chemistry. At the time, I was in an Algebra II class learning about matrices and sequences, finding patterns on graphite smudged scratch paper. I took classes to understand the material. After class, my brain would buzz with “what ifs” and “how comes,” as I walked to the bus back home, trying to figure out the puzzles and riddles of the world.

Recently, however, I feel there has been a problem with the way I learn, and I am not the only one who feels this way. The American school system is one of the only school systems in the world where students hope for dangerous weather conditions to cancel class. My friends and I are so worried about grades and GPAs that we don’t value how we learn or what we learn. We’re too focused on quantifying our worth with percentage points and letter grades, and it’s unfair.

I feel like I’m in an educational rut; I study and take tests and memorize the words I need to know, but I no longer find joy in learning. Studying is a chore, not an adventure, and I’m doubting what I want to do with my life and if I’ve made the right decisions.

As I sit in class, zoning out what my professor says as I write this essay, I’m trying to figure out how to bring my love of learning back. What classes interest me, what isn’t a responsibility?

I suppose I have to rediscover the things that bring me joy and follow them again. Physics is a difficult class for me, but the moments when the puzzle clicks together, when I understand why the normal force on the top of a rollercoaster is zero at a minimum speed, or when conservation of energy lets me solve for the length of a pendulum, are what make me want to work harder to understand everything else. Science is filled with little victories; the satisfaction in computer science, when my runner class finally compiles, or when abstract methods and implementation make sense. Understanding the world is incredible, and thinking, while a blessing and a curse, makes us human.

So my advice, which I should follow myself as well, is to remember what excites you and what makes your brain sharp. Remember that learning is an adventure, a puzzle, and that patterns are beautiful and strange. Hopefully things will make more sense soon.