Eyes on the Prize

Despite my average records, I'm generally used to success. I don't have to try very hard to pass classes, nor do I get rejected when I least expect it. A good example would be my piano career: I would practice very hard the days leading up to the examination, and study theory like heck, but still not know it very well. However, I would always have a gut feeling that I may not do excellently, but I would play very well on the practical exam and score high enough on the written exam. Every year I would advance to the next level with pretty much the minimal amount of practice. I get the same feeling for other things before they happen too: when teachers will call on me, what grade I got on a test just taken, etc. Usually, surprisingly, I'm right.

Yesterday I was not.

My school has a program called CSF. It's an honors program that admits students who get enough points to join, and these points are based grades. An "A" is 3 points, a "B" is 1, and a "C" is zero. AP and honors classes allow you to get more points: an "A" is 4 points, and so forth. At the end of senior year, if you have been a part of CSF for four semesters, you graduate with a gold cord. Every single semester of my high school career I have been a part of CSF, which means six semesters. I get to graduate with the pretty gold cord now, right?

Here's the catch: One of those semesters has to be from your senior year. And last semester, my grades were... not impressive. I lacked two points to reach the minimum of ten points required.

Now, I don't really care about joining CSF. I'm not interested, myself, in being an honors student, probably because I always had been, starting from sixth grade. I just care about what other people think of me. My mindset: if I don't graduate with a gold cord, I will be embarrassed to show my face in front of my friends, all draped with gold string and tassels. I think they will be surprised and, for lack of a more appropriate word, condescending. The gold cord is a symbol of high school success. The following is definitely not true, but I'm upset, so bear with me: If I don't get that cord, everyone will think I'm stupid.

*I'm NOT saying other people with no cord are stupid. I just feel it was expected of ME to reach that goal, and a failure of realizing it concludes MY lack of intelligence. I know plenty of people who are smarter and work harder than me who aren't getting the cord, simply because they didn't want to apply during their four years of high school.

Whine, whine, whine. It's just a piece of colored string, for heaven's sake. Why do I care so much? Because I have not yet grown out of the teenage insecurity of appearances to other people. I care VERY deeply about how others see me. Think it's pointless and shallow? I do too. But telling me that thinking this way is silly, and I that shouldn't care what others think, won't make it go away, just like telling an anorexic girl that she's beautiful the way she was won't solve her problems in that second. It's just unrealistic. I can tell myself all I want that I shouldn't care, but that won't do anything until something or someone else big enough comes along and fixes me. My brain, while appreciating the thought, rejects your consoling words and good intentions as meaningless. I can't stop it.

So, faced with the horror of no gold cord while graduating, I tried something I never would have years ago. I actually went to my counselor to talk about it. Well, what's so bad about that? The problem is, I also have a fear of strangers (while I try to impress them at the same time. I don't know...). I can put on a charming show when meeting them face to face, exemplified by the comments my dad receives after I'm introduced to his work friends, but I would much prefer no contact at all. But clearly I would rather talk to a near stranger (the horror!) than graduate without a gold cord (the horror!).

I'm so glad I went.

Now that I've given away the happy ending, the rest can be abridged. I talked to my counselor, she said lets go talk to a career counselor, we talked, and I discovered another way I can join CSF (albeit a bit late). I can still qualify for a gold cord. I can reclaim my pride, save face, and look impressive to people I don't even know. As I said, I don't care if that's petty and shallow. At least I admit it myself. We can't all be Mary Sue's.

So the moral of the story is?

Maaaaaaannn!

Just kidding. While I do dislike some stories with blatant morals, this experience definitely has one. "If at first you don't succeed, try try again." Irritating to think, but perfectly correct. Or maybe, I just thought of a different one, which at least sounds nicer and a tad more sophisticated: "Keep your eyes on the prize."

No matter how cheesy it sounds, if you want something, go for it. Try everything you can to reach your goal. If it matters, make it happen! The ancient goddess Hecate, though best known for being a goddess of magic, is also the goddess of choice. There are always at least four choices when you reach a crossroads - three for moving ahead, and one for going back (I can shamelessly thank Rick Riordan for that knowledge). I guess my three choices were do nothing, seek help, or buy a fake cord and pretend I earned it. The choice for going back... repeating senior year? I wouldn't be that extreme,  not just for a golden cord.

Perseverance. I'm keeping my eyes on the prize.

That's enough images for one post.