The Scholar

WARNING: Due to lack of sleep, this post is a bit of a hodge-podge. The thoughts don't quite string together as I'd like them to, but I think you'll get the over-all idea. Good luck to you when reading this.

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A few months ago on a trip to TN, I was in my old bedroom gawking at myself in a full length mirror when I noticed an index card fall at my feet. When I was in high school I used to tuck index cards into the sides of the mirror. This one boasted a schedule I had made for a random Wednesday in 2002. It went something like this:

4:00 a.m.     Wake up!
4:30 a.m.     Study Pre-Cal
6:00 a.m.     Study AP Euro (at school)
7:00 a.m.     Ivey test

Yes, indeedy! I was a giant nerd in high school. Not only did I go to school at six in the morning to study, but I also over-involved myself in extra-curriculars. I can remember a time when I actually had driving a stick shift and changing from jeans into ballet tights down to an art. My days were filled with running from one activity to the next - dance, play rehearsal, Interact volunteer events, Interact club meetings, Interact board meetings, Interact district board meetings, Interact scrapbook meetings, Speech Team tournaments, and on and on it goes. Somewhere in there I managed to study and work in the church nursery for four hours each Sunday.

How did I do that?

I must have been crazy.

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Last year was the first year since I was four years old, that I wasn't on a school schedule. Until last year, my new year began when the academic year began. During the 2010-2011 year, I felt lost...and bored...and lazy. No matter what I piled on my plate, nothing was ever enough. I actually made a daily cleaning schedule that I successfully followed for months! Laundry was always done, our cabinets and closets well organized. I had time to jog, time to write blogs, time to play with the pets, time to do spontaneous nice things for other people, etc.. In comparison to the craziness I put myself through in high school (and to a lesser degree in college), the life I just described sounds wonderful, right?

It was for a while. Then, I sort of lost myself. I lost my drive and my ambition. I needed chaos and a tight schedule and projects and deadlines.

So, I went out and found those things.

Now I have two positions at EVMS, fourteen (yes, 14) dance classes to teach, a biweekly volunteer position at Norfolk General, and two colleges classes (Bio. and Stats, respectively).

I have a ton on my plate. When I was piling it on, I thought that if I could handle all the stuff I did when I was a teenager, surely I can do it now that I'm older and (maybe a tiny bit?) wiser.

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When I reflect on my high school career, I beam with pride. Man, I did a good job. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class. I got into a good college. I didn't get into (much) trouble. I was extremely active in the community. Seems like I had it all....

Then, I find an index card from one fall day in 2002 on which I mapped out at my morning  from 4-7. 

 I remember what life was really like.

1. I was ALWAYS frazzled. Unless I was asleep, my face read "panic attack." My junior/senior english teacher actually sought after and asked my mother if I was "you know, OK?" Yes, as in OK in the head.

2. When my hair was long, there were pencils in it. When my hair was short, it looked like I'd put my fingers in a electrical outlet.  

3. My fingers were always covered in white out.

4. My Ford Ranger Splash was packed with coffee cups, glitter, construction paper, food containers, moldy Tupperware, clothes, clothes, and more clothes, shoes, Mod Podge glue, papers, random props - you name it, Bogartha housed it. (Bogartha is the name of the truck.) On occassion, I'd give my neighbor a lift to school. Now that I think about it, aside from the fact that she's a small person, I don't know how the heck she actually fit in the passenger's seat.)

5. My hands and arms were covered in notes. While I had a planner, I was always afraid that I'd forget something. Thus, I wrote important memos on my body where I couldn't miss them. If I was wearing a skirt and ran out of room, I'd write on the tops of my knees. 

6. My bedroom was a disaster area. My bed was basically my desk and always covered in papers. The floor, aside from a piece of carpet at the foot of my bed where I slept, served as my laundry basket and second desk.

7. I was a shifty character. For me, my enjoyment at graduation depended on two things: 1.) Where I was sitting at graduation (the top 10% sat in the front, and 2.) How many cords I wore.

I was a "member" of the Beta club. This meant that I got the three credits I needed my junior year and bribed a Beta officer to give me my three credits senior year. You see, I was the secretary of Interact, and the Treasurer of Interact was also the Secretary of Beta. Interact require ten volunteer credits for a member to remain in "good standing." While she was treasurer, this person lacked Interact's amount of required credits. So, I reasoned with her and made a bargain for my Beta cord. If she gave me the one Beta credit I needed, I would give her the credits she needed for Interact. I walked across the stage at graduation wearing four cords: Interact, Top 10%, French club, and Beta.

Clearly, I was a competetive over-achiever, obsessed with "getting ahead," and completely over-extended.
I was a huge mess.

Why did I do that to myself?

Because I was blessed with a  group of tight-knit friends that challenged me academically and socially. If I wanted to fit in with my crowd, I had to play the game. What classes they took, I took. What activities they participated in, I participated in too. (Well, with some variation.)

My friends were motivation to succeed. While keeping up with them was exhausting, it was one of the best things I could have done for myself . My friends made me work harder. They made me see my potential. They pushed me to my limits. Thus, I will forever be in their debt.

Now my friends, who all did very well for themselves in college and beyond, are scattered around the country. And while I don't compare myself to them as I did in high school, I still look to them for motivation. (Yes, believe it or not, my high school friends are still my dearest friends in the world. We still talk fairly regularly and visit each other when we can.)

I am channeling their help right now - especially now. If they were here, they would tell me that I am capable of making an A on my Biology test tomorrow. They would tell me that they've studied that stuff and it's fairly easy. Then, they'd quiz me over information I just studied and that they probably haven't looked at in years. And they would probably know more than me, because my friends are all incredibly smart people. (OK, to be fair, two of them work in the science field and one just finished taking the MCAT, so I hope they know more than me.) I am channeling their help right now, because tomorrow when I take the first written college exam I've had in five years, I will be thinking about them and their accomplishments. And I will know that I have prepared and that I'm a smart person, too, and I can succeed just like them. Because they always told me I could.
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I'm sitting in my living room, staring at my messy house. The coffee table and surrounding floor resembles my bedroom in high school. It's a cluttered mess. I'm not wearing make-up, my hair's a mess, and I'm going "commando", because I haven't done laundry in a while. I stayed up until two this morning preparing lesson plans, studying, and completing paperwork for one of my jobs.
I'm exhausted, and it feels so good.

I almost can't wait until I start making index card schedules. Hopefully, I won'tever have to begin my day at four in the morning. But if I do, I know I've done it before and I can do it again.