So I just finished my final paper of the Semester. Here it is, if you guys were interested.
That One Where…Sage Went to College and Did the Thing
Something I’ve always believed was a strength of mine was my ability to write, my ability to learn, and my ability to express my thoughts and ideas. When I was choosing classes at the beginning of the semester I remember looking online at reviews of professors and trying to decide if I wanted an easy semester with easy professors or if I wanted a bit of a challenge. I decided that I wanted a challenge. I decided I’d enroll in the class with the crazy, vegan pushing, lecture-giving professor that was said to challenge his students and push them to their limits.
And boy was I given a challenge. But before I go too much into that, let me start by saying this: I believe in the notion that everyone should have a basis of the written word not only for their own self respect, but also for the respect of their piers. I believe that in order to be successful in society, one needs to be well spoken and needs to be able to present themselves in all manners of communication. You literally use words at all times of your lives, even as a baby—being taught with words. So when I go into a classroom and on the first day of class my professor begins by talking about words, and the importance of words, I knew I’d made the right decision.
From the beginning we were told our main objectives would be these essays ranging from 4 to 10 pages in length and that we would learn to write and be college students. This was kind of a strange idea to me at first; writing these papers would make me a college student? Wasn’t my enrollment and participation in class proof enough that I was a student? We would be assigned sections in our book to read and would be expected to understand the topics or to come to class at least with some questions.
When the first quiz came I was semi-prepared; meaning I was given a heads up on how quizzes were handled and what to expect. I had prepared a handful of questions to be ready to asked so I would make an easy ‘A’ on the first quiz. However, even though I read the chapter, I quickly learned that I had not, in fact, read the chapter. Sure I read the words and studied key phrases and techniques, but what I failed to do was really grasp the concepts and understand what was being said. This was my first mistake. Of course, I didn’t do great on that quiz, only getting one or two questions right (and by right I mean slightly not wrong). So my goal was then to read the chapters with greater focus so next time, I’d do better.
Of course I also was starting to write my first paper at this point. I will admit that I was confident in my paper and was pretty sure I was going to get a good grade on it. I got a B. Top 5 in the class, so that felt nice. Unfortunately, it only stroked my ego of my knowing writing was a strength I was proud of. So when it came time for the next paper, I was cocky and confident that I would again get a B if not better. That didn’t happen. Though I answered all the quiz questions correctly, I failed to grasp the concept of the paper I was writing. A minor setback, I thought. But it was starting to become a pattern.
With our third paper complete, a whopping minimum of 8 pages, I panicked. I knew what I wanted to talk about, but I didn’t know how to get started. So I’d start writing this exploratory essay, get frustrated because I couldn’t figure it out, stop, ask questions the next day, and start all over again. When I turned my paper in, I didn’t expect it to be an ‘A’ paper, but I was proud of it and thought it was a nicely written paper.
Again, wrong format. At this point I became disheartened because I honestly believed I was a good writer, and had been told so my whole life, and now I couldn’t even write a college paper? What was going on? After rereading the chapter and trying to figure out what I did wrong, the only thing I could really see was that I hadn’t given my opinion. Now, it’s the end of the semester with literally one class period left before finals. I have 2 papers with no grades and a feeling of despair dwelling within me. I have one more paper to write, a mere reflective analysis, and figure, I can’t go wrong with this one.
But as I sit down and think about all the things I was taught in this class, all the things everyone would say, and things you, Mr. Hanson, would expect, it sort of dawned on me what I actually learned. I didn’t learn to write papers. Yes, I turned papers in, and yes I learned about rhetoric and whatnot, but I could have been taught that anywhere. No, what I learned was something I honestly never thought a college class could teach me: I learned that no matter how many essays I failed or how many points I got on quizzes, I never gave up. And I know that sounds really petty right now, like we’re in that Disney movie where the protagonist learns a hard lesson and has to realize their full potential (oh wait, that’s every Disney movie); but it’s the truth.
I hadn’t completed a full semester of college in 3 years. I thought to myself many times that I should just quit while I’m ahead, that I should just work fulltime because it would be easier and I wouldn’t have so much stress in my life. But the fact that I’ve stuck it through this entire semester, wanting to prove to myself and to those who doubted me that I could, was one of the biggest and, in my opinion, most important lessons I learned. No matter how many nights I stayed up trying to be the “perfect student” and my mind kept telling me I never would be, I think that’s what made me a perfect student. College is supposed to teach you about life, about your surroundings, and about yourself. And I think the fact that I didn’t give up, I didn’t let the world dictate how I would run my life just because it was easy…I think that’s what makes the perfect student. Dedication. Honestly, I don’t care if they have all C’s. When you walk down that isle in your cap and gown and get handed that $50,000 piece of paper saying you graduated, a list of C’s isn’t going to matter. What’s going to matter is the drive you learned to study all night for that final. What’s going to matter is the day you learned to always, and I do mean always, have an extra copy of your lab report on a flash drive because your computer can and will crash, usually at the most inopportune times. What’s going to matter is that you pushed yourself as far as you possibly could to show yourself what you were really capable of. Sure, an ‘A’ would have felt great. Hell, an ‘A’ would feel A-mazing. But when you’re sitting with your kids remembering the good times, is your first memory going to be of that ‘A’ you got in Bio Chemistry? I highly doubt it.
So I didn’t do too well on my essays. I didn’t do great on my quizzes. But you know what? I don’t think that was ever the point of the class. I don’t think that’s ever really been the point of college. Yes, it is if you’re becoming a doctor or a Bio Physicist. But I think for the average everyday student the most they can learn about is themselves. What their passions are, what motivates them, and what they want to bring to the world—those are the most important lessons any professor can teach you, even the crazy vegan hippie ones.
