Making the ‘D’eans List: A Hard Lesson in Moving Forward

College finals are hard. It doesn’t matter what anyone will tell you otherwise. There’s a certain tension in the air that just arises the first week in May where University students and everything really for that matter just seem to be on edge. The chaos that arises is always unpredictable. Printers tend to explode minutes before assignments are due, computer hardrives crash with unsaved papers, vehicles have tire blowouts on the way to your exam and it seems as if the world is literally out to get you. Plus student bills come around to be due, and the inability to register for Fall courses when there’s an outstanding balance only feeds into the anxiety that permeates the minds and hearts of individuals. If there’s any time when Murphy’s Law (Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong) is demonstrated, Finals week is the prime example.

This semester, Chemistry was my only major concern. Let me first start by applauding anyone who chooses Chemistry as a degree path, I am in awe. Your level of intelligence surpasses far what I can even begin to fathom. There was literally no reason for me to take chemistry, except as a prerequisite for a Physiological Psych Course. Granted, I do see some validity of chemistry in Neurobiology, but my desire to take this course was null. It had been five years since I took a gen-chem class, and even then, I didn’t do that well, so the odds were already not in my favor.

Despite variant efforts to learn the material in class, teach myself with the help of YouTube videos, and develop some conceptual grasps of material, it just didn’t click. This was evidenced by several very low test scores, and a resentful spirit. It would be easier if I began to try and make excuses, because there aren’t any really clear answers to why I struggled so much, except that Chemistry is just a chem-mystery in my mind, and never really made sense.

After checking Blackboard grades religiously every twenty minutes for three straight days, the verdict was rendered. I was going to finish the class with a D.

At face value, this ate me alive inside. Getting a D is the lowest I’ve ever done in a class in my academic career. Despite doing very well in all my other courses this semester, this one class would totally wreck my GPA, and kill my spirit.

I’ve always been a person who tends to thrive in most situations. Much of It comes from my deliberate and persistent work ethic, but a lot of it is just luck, and the fact that I can pick up on things relatively quickly. So in a situation where my success wasn’t guaranteed, my confidence crumbled. When I submitted the final exam with an empty hope and prayer, I dreaded for the grade to be posted. The minute my score was released; I was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, frustration and sadness. I would certainly have to say goodbye to the Dean’s List which I found myself on every other semester through undergrad thus far. Even though I’m naturally an insomniac, any sleep that I could have gotten that night was restless, because that class grade was on my mind.

I moped around, and wallowed in self pity trying to find an excuse for my performance, or lacktherof. It’s in situations like this, it’s countless times easier to blame the instructor, or a department, but at the end of the day, nobody has to face the grade but me. I had to own up and move on.

For a while, this got me thinking, how many times are our identities negatively shaped by meaningless factors? Why is our existence so dependent on our performance? (Now let me preface this by saying that I do believe education is incredibly important, and shouldn’t be pushed into oblivion—but that’s not my point.) Why do we place so much attention and build our own persona solely on what we’re capable of doing? It’s as if our human value is somehow contingent on what ability we have.

I’ve noticed that so many people base their happiness on their accomplishments. They invest their whole selves into the things that they do well. If you’re a strong athlete, that sport becomes your life, if you’re an academiac, research becomes your identity, if you’re a musician, performing becomes your purpose, or if you’re tradesmen, your skill-sets become your entire existence.

Everything is great, until circumstances or events come up, and suddenly you no longer are able to accomplish the tasks that were so significant to the embodiment of who you are. The reason so many college athletes don’t come back after a tragic injury isn’t because their bodies are incapable of recovery, but because their fighting spirits have delineated, and they’ve given up on the foundation of something that was integral to who they thought they were.

Here’s the thing, this issue isn’t something new.

One of the pioneers of 20th century art, Vincent Van Gogh, was caught in this same cycle of performance based happiness. He went through a period when despite grand aspirations of success, galleries wouldn’t accept his work, and due to his livelihood being dependent on his painting he became incredibly dissatisfied with life. Stories tell of how he notably consumed yellow paint, thinking that the bright color would bring him happiness—I wouldn’t suggest this treatment personally.

Of course this never actually worked, but it tells us something pretty clearly about our search for meaning. We as humans desire to find meaning in everything we do. The problem comes when the border between meaning and suffering blurs together. The reason that we hate monotony is because it’s predictable, and has no intrinsic significance. It doesn’t capture anything within us.

Yes, doing well in school is important.

Yes, doing well in your place of work is important.

Yes, taking responsibility for your actions is important.

But these things should never be the focal point of who you are. Your innate value is far greater than that of which the voices in your head might tell you it is.

I absolutely love the imagery that everyone is somehow interconnected. That by some scope of chance, your story, your past, and your pure existence means something to someone else. That despite what you may believe about yourself, that your place on this earth has an incredible amount of significance to someone else in this world. It’s a tough thought, but it’s encouraging.

We were created to oppose repetition and live endearing adventurous lives. If we continue to dictate our self fulfillment solely on how we perform in situations, we can never move forward through the mess, and discover the message hidden within. We are greater than the sum of our past mistakes.

Quit Performing, Start Thriving!