University is not my life. And that is not a unique statement. Other people I know feel the same way. Yet, I always come back to this phrase, because it’s an easy one to forget.
During my university semesters, I wonder where I’ve gone to. Who I am during school is simply not me. I value everything I learn in school and my mind is challenged by the knowledge I am gaining, but I lose my will to be inspired. I feel de-motivated, and occasionally worthless. Grades consume me and exhaust me. I was always taught that getting good grades was indicative of goodness itself, but getting good grades, in the long run, doesn’t challenge me or move me or alter me in any way. Getting bad grades means everything. And grades themselves are only letters or numbers, a reflection of a mental state, a good or bad nights sleep, a passionate moment, not a reflection of me and my full potential as a creative human being.
I revel in the very aspects of university that challenge convention. I love my professors that speak from a place of passion and I love the rare courses that see me as a human being and not as a grade point average. My creative writing course, or my ecology course, for example. I love participating in the university community. The writing contests and the on-campus publications- all of that is wonderful. But besides all of that- the all nighters, the grade anxiety, the not-wanting-to-get-up-in-the-morning, that’s not me. And every year I wait for summer, because during my time away at university, I have four months of warm-weathered freedom, and I spend that time in a creative mind-space. It is during those four months that I grow. I work and I challenge myself creatively and I grow.