Continuation... or is it conclusion?

So here's the continuation of my comment to the post I made previously. I suggest reading that first. Except I expect this to be the end of it, so it really isn't a continuation. It's like when those multiple part episodes give you the tantalizing "to be concluded" as opposed to "to be continued".

So anyway, what I was talking about in my comment had to do with attitudes taken toward school. I have worked hard in the past. I mean I have REALLY worked hard. I know I am capable of it. I like hanging out with friends and playing video games, but I know full well that I don't need those things. I tend to burn out a little after about a month or so if I have no breaks at all, but I know I can do it. I have a lot of stamina and focus. Last summer when I was taking the two math classes, I remember how hard I studied. I woke up, opened my math book (which was next to me on my bed since I had been reading it right before I fell asleep), studied until I got too hungry, grabbed a handful of almonds and a vitamin supplement, and then went back to studying while munching on my almonds. There were days when I studied so much I didn't leave my room. I entered those classes determined to get As because I wanted to prove to my education supervisor that whatever reservations he might have about me, my ability to do math shouldn't be one of them (that was, in fact, his major reservation he told me when I was conditionally admitted to the program- conditionally upon the completion of those classes). I knew I only had to complete them, but I wanted to get As and show that I was truly good at math. I was fairly bitter when no one bothered to ask if I'd even taken the courses, let alone what grades I got in them. But I wasn't too bitter. I may not have needed to prove to anyone how good I was, but in doing so, I did learn a lot. I'll tell you, I am extremely confident in my knowledge of algebra after taking both linear and abstract (especially abstract) algebra that summer. I suppose it's at a faster pace over the summer, but I have no idea how people take those classes along with other classes during the school year. Those courses kicked my ass! Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I kicked my ass to kick the course's ass and it still left me a little dizzy after the fight was over.

But enough reminiscing about how challenging that summer was. My point was, you have to be a pretty unusual student to work that hard, especially when you're already decently good. I could have worked that hard this semester. There was certainly enough work for me to do so. But instead I skimped a little, doing the work that was the most interesting or seemed the most important. I probably did somewhere between ten and 30 percent of the reading I was assigned, but I worked hard to make sure I understood what I didn't read. I may have read a little less than my peers, but I'm not even certain that's true. There were days (especially near the end of class) when I was one of the only people who read anything. Overall I probably did read a little less, but I'm not convinced that my understanding was any less than theirs.

Most of my peers complained about how hard the workload was this semester, but I look back to last summer and the workload this semester makes me laugh. I had time to play video games. I had time to watch tv. I had time to take on a part time job (workshift manager) and still also cook for ~5 hours a week. Now I'll admit I didn't have as much time to play video games once I became workshift manager, but I still had a pretty relaxing time and did very little work on the weekends. This semester was nothing in terms of workload. Sure, I got busy near the end, but what semester doesn't. I know I could have worked harder, but it wasn't really all that necessary.

Admittedly, I could have worked less last summer too. I didn't need to work as hard as I did. I didn't need to push myself so hard. I'm sure I could have passed with much less effort. I chose to do more than pass in the summer. I did not choose to excel this past semester. I chose to do well enough and enjoy myself a little more as I did so. It was worth it. It was fully worth it.

So now I come to my main point that all this rambling has been dancing around (I've enjoyed the dance a fair amount though). The student I was last summer was unrealistic. The people who work that hard are few and far between. I've seen a few of them in my classes. It becomes quickly apparent who has done all the reading. It becomes apparent who has started working on their final project months in advance and wants to fine tine their paper near the end rather than complete it. I've noticed them among the PhD candidates, and even a few among the masters candidates. Those students are out there, but there aren't many of them. Even in graduate school where the students are very carefully chosen and only a few make the cut, there aren't many who can be that single minded. I have been that single minded and focused in the past, and I'm pretty glad I stopped. I'm glad the grades don't matter so much anymore and I have the freedom to be a little more relaxed. And I don't mean that just in the sense that I wanted a little more relaxation. I'm not sure exactly when the realization came to me. Change is very gradual and extremely hard to notice. But at some point, I started to realize a change in myself. I felt more competent. I felt more sure of myself. I had a better idea of how things worked. I didn't let the little things bother me so much anymore. I knew who I was and how to interact with the world around me in a way that benefited me most. And I also realized that I was starting to forget what it was like to be a kid. It was crushing. I have always been terrified of forgetting the past, forgetting what I was. As a kid, I was smart enough to see that a lot of adults didn't get me. I didn't want to be one of those. I wanted to remember what it was like. I rebelled against growing up for a very long time. I watched cartoons long after it was cool to do so. I watched them secretly at home and waited to rent the Disney movies after them came out on video because I was to ashamed to go with anyone when they were out in theaters and it's not fun to go by yourself. I still watch them today. I just don't bother to hide it anymore. I am at peace with my immaturity. I remember I still kissed my mom goodbye when I left for school long after the other kids had ceased to do so. In high school, I was often called immature. By then it made my blood boil, partially because I was starting to realize what they meant by maturity. I never wanted to suppress what I was thinking or feeling just so I could "grow up" sooner. It's a good thing I was opposed to the idea of growing up, or I might have listened to them when they told me being quiet was a sign of maturity. But that's another issue. The issue here is that I have always tried to be conscious of what I was thinking at any portion of my life. I have always tried to burn it into my memory for fear of forgetting what I was. It's that fear that has produced the nostalgic pack rat that I am today. At first I reveled in my newfound competence without realizing what I had lost. Was it worth it? I suppose so. You can't fight growing up forever, and being more confident and self assured has been nice. But how am I going to teach from a pedestal of confidence? If I can't remember what it's like to be a student, a real student, not a relentless, grade driven maniac, then how am I going to effectively teach?

I caught myself though, and I think I did it before it was too late. Yes, I've forgotten a lot, but I'm remembering a lot too. I think I've lost the humor of younger kids. Thinking back it all seems like giddy nonsense that doesn't make a lot of sense. I remember the little inside jokes were that I had with my friends. Or more accurately, I remember the jokes and can't possibly understand what was funny about them. There was a time in grade school when some friends and I were really into cows. How could that have possibly started? What could we have possibly seen in it? I remember we all changed our names slightly to include the word "moo" (I was Rosemooey, if you're curious; Justine was Moostine - not nearly as good as Rosemooey - and Lea... well we didn't know what to do with Lea, so she became Lea-moo. Yeah hers wasn't great, but it did sorta roll off the tongue). I remember my birthday cake that year had a cow on it. I think there was even a cow on it the next. Digging through some old things, I even found some cow stationary. I remember seeing it in a card shop and impulsively buying it because there was a cow on it. I can still remember all of that stuff and I even remember it fondly, but I can't for the life of me understand why it was funny. Perhaps it never was. But it was funny to us. Or it was funny to us then.

I'm a better person now than I was then (let's face it- I was a brat), but I don't want to lose the person I was. I accept the changes in myself, and even welcome them. All my changes within the past few years have been for the better. I'm happier now than I think I ever have been in my life. But I don't want to lose track of what I was. Already, I feel very wary of myself, starting to look down on the students, getting frustrated with them too easily. I mentioned in a previous post how I was frustrated with a few students and then I saw myself in them. Does change and forgetting the past go hand in hand? Will I remember more clearly once I have stopped changing? I think I will, but I will not forget what I was! My determination years ago not to forget may have been a childish urge that became rooted in my routine, but even so, it's important! I've come to think that no decision someone makes as a child should last the rest of their lives (this is one reason I think tattoos are not a great idea), but this is a decision that I think was a good one. I want to understand my students and the best key into them is through me. If I can understand what I was, it will be much easier to understand what they are. My fear of losing myself and them renews my determination to have my students keep journals. When I'm only teaching one class, I can have them due every week, and when I'm teaching 5 classes, I'll make them due every other week (staggered of course), but I think I'll always have them. I want to know what they thinking. I want to remember how their trains of thought work, what their logic processes are. My train of thought is pretty logical and functional now. It helps me to be a better student. It gives me the motivation and focus I need to excel. But I need to be able to activate the old logic still. My cogsci background tells me that those neural connections have been pruned from disuse. I need to activate them every so often, to remember, or they'll be completely gone. The brain is capable of a lot. I can create the new connections without losing the old ones if I work hard enough. Though all the hard work and determination I've cultivated don't really remind myself of how I used to be. I was lazy, sometimes depressed, sometimes unable to work for hours because I needed to watch tv so that I wouldn't have to think. I remember being so drained just from school that I'd come home completely unable to work for hours. Are all kids that drained? School looks so easy to me now, especially the lower grades. Everything the teacher says, I learn within moments. I did learn some new material in Ms. Quindel's class (mostly statistics) and I understood it and retained it quickly. I also had a decent idea of the why behind it, which made it a lot easier to conceptualize. After a fifteen minute lecture, I could have aced the test. Also, I saw how much the students struggled to work in groups. I could have not only done the work, but paused to answer any questions and help anyone along and still would have finished in time. So school means little to me now (in terms of energy expended), but what about to them, the students? Was I drained at the end of the day because school itself was tiring? It is a strange social structure that doesn't exist outside of school. Perhaps it is artificial to force it upon people. Perhaps conforming in such an unusual way is tiring. Perhaps I was exhausted because I was depressed. Depressed people do have less energy. Perhaps I had to struggle so hard with social situations that I was just tired. Now I can handle myself fairly well in a social situation. I don't strain and struggle over what to say before I say it or berate myself later for saying something stupid. I remember doing that as a kid. I remember it would keep me up at nights. High school is so hard in some ways. You've finally realized that you're not cool and you want to be, but you have no idea how to do it. You have to watch your every move to make sure it is appropriate, when in the past you were free to do whatever. Everyone just wrote it off because you were a little kid. Then in high school you're at the age when people expect you to act a certain way. A lot more restrictions are placed on you. But the most restrictions you place on yourself. I remember being so particular about the clothes I wore. I remember back then I was embarrassed about liking Pokemon (that was kid's stuff). I was even embarrassed about watching Star Trek (now a point of nerdy pride for me) which I watched religiously to the point of recording it when I went on vacation and yet made sure no one ever found out about.

I got sick of that shit fast.

I think that's why I was so popular in high school. I stopped worrying about and censoring everything I said and thought. In the land of wasps (err... Catholic wasps I guess), this was pretty refreshing to the younger generation who weren't set in their parents' waspy ways yet. Of course it shocked me. I gave up early on with trying to be cool. Sure, I still was pretty concerned with it (what high schooler isn't?), but I decided after a time that it was just too much work and that I was ok with not being cool. My jaw dropped when I got nominated for homecoming princess (of everyone in my class, I was within the top five in terms of votes- everyone got to circle 5 or so). I didn't win, but when I ran for president my senior year, it was against the person who did beat me... and that time I won. I reasoned then, as I reason now, freshman year didn't count because no one really knew anyone yet when we had to vote (no one could win twice, so even though the winner from the year before wasn't actually in the running, she was pretty much just a pretty face with a very small group of friends and so could not be considered cooler than me). Sophomore year, I do not know if the person who won was more popular than me. I think I would have beaten her senior year after I had gotten to know more people. Junior year, Kristen beat me, but in a one-on-one match with her for president senior year, I won. Since I got to know more people as the years went on, I figured that I must have gotten someone's vote if they knew me, and so I was cooler than Kristen.

Yeah yeah. I say I wasn't as concerned with being cool, but clearly I was. It consumed me, the way I think it was consuming everyone at least a little. I remember being convinced that not falling all over yourself to be cool was the way to be cool and thus tried to do that as much as possible (though not to the point of falling all over myself). Sigh. Poor kids. High school sucks so much. They must be going through a lot.

Teehee! My trip down memory lane worked! I started to remember a little of what I was thinking and a little of what my thoughts were. Being so hardworking killed that a little. I had no time for frivolity. I was devoted to studying, devoted to getting the grade. Real people aren't like that. I had so many external pressures. and internal ones as well, telling me that when I graduated from college, I'd have my choice of where I went, unlike when I graduated from high school. I told myself it was time to get serious. But that's not what people are like. People aren't so serious, and you can't get people to learn with that kind of an attitude. Sure if they were serious they would learn really well, but you have to choose that path, not have it be forced upon you. And even if they did choose that, would it really be the right choice? The powers that be who decide what the school curriculum is going to be are heavily influenced by political interest groups, not all of which know the relevant research. And values change depending on the times. For a student to wholeheartedly and unquestioningly devote his or herself to one particular curriculum, one school's set of values, one teacher's system, without rebelling or questioning it a little probably isn't a good idea. Or worse yet, if a student completely ignored what is trying to be taught just to do well, get the grade, get the recommendation, etc. I've been too much like that myself. Luckily I chose a subject that I liked in college so at least some of it got through. The brain is pretty cool.

But anyway, it's getting late, so I think I'll be on my way. I've left a good parting message I think. The "good" students are few and far between and being a good student myself I think my have hindered my ability to reach normal people who aren't so obsessive, but being less grade focused has helped me a lot.

Oh and expect to see a few more jaunts down memory lane in my blog. I want to remember as much as I can, and I think writing about it helps. Goodnight all!