By Yesenia Coello
Campus News
What a strange, long trip it’s been.
These words reverberate in my mind as the Grateful Dead plays on my YouTube tab. Although I’m probably the farthest thing you’ll ever encounter from a Deadhead – I felt compelled to listen to this song when my sister quoted it in the graduation card my family had gifted me immediately after my ceremony.
Graduating college is both a celebratory moment and a bittersweet goodbye. You’ve officially grown your wings and have been permitted to enter the professional world. Or at least that’s how the traditional narrative goes. To be honest, I think anyone can enter the professional realm under the right circumstances. For me personally, college has been a strange, long trip that has impacted me more than I would like to admit out loud.
For the relevance of this publication, I’ll solely be focusing on my experiences at my two-year school. For me, a somewhat shiftless high school graduate, I had no idea what I wanted to do next. I only knew what I liked, and I knew that high school wouldn’t allot me the opportunities I sought. Instead, rather than being proactive, I remained indolent and indifferent; seemingly content to waste my days feeding my pitiless Internet addiction. (I wish I were kidding, but I’m not.)
Thankfully, I knew college was the perfect place to reinvent myself. I became a bit more active in my community, albeit still somewhat withdrawn and under the oppressive hand of social anxiety. This was the norm for all of my freshman year and most of my sophomore year. As far as academia went, sophomore year was when I found myself enamored by subject material that I not only enjoyed but felt comfortable enough to express my inner intellect for (whereas in high school, I had to suppress it in order to avoid attention from underachieving bullies). For once, I felt good about my academic standing and my progress as a student.
Until, well, Imposter’s Syndrome kicked in.
For those unaware, Imposter Syndrome is the nagging feeling that somehow, regardless of your achievements and undeniable proof of their existence, that you’ve somehow weaseled your way to success – somehow going undetected by those around you.
Well, compared to most in my life – family and immediate friends – I felt like I couldn’t compare. As if being placed in remedial math somehow defined who I was. No matter where I went, the talents I’ve honed, the goals I’ve achieved, I’d still be that kid who would never be able to find “X.” I wasn’t a true intellectual – I was simply just a slow underachiever who wished to be something she wasn’t.
Even today, as I sit and type this, I still struggle with these feelings. Even after spending countless hours studying, I still feel like the shadow of my former self. Not only that, but I also felt like my career, my life, was not going in the direction I had anticipated. I mean, not that I really anticipated anything specifically. I just hoped, at the tender of twenty-three, I would’ve had things figured out. (As cliche as that sounds.)
Oh, yeah. You might be wondering how all these thoughts correlate with my two-year experience, right? Well, after a particularly rough summer a few years ago, I returned to school perturbed and anxious about the future. Would I be able to become the student I had once tricked myself into believing I was? Those were the thoughts that permeated my mind on the daily. Surely, I was too unintelligent to be anything but, right?
I was wrong.
Supportive and intellectually stimulating professors forced me to work harder, forcing me to rise to occasions I didn’t really give much thought to. “Hey, these are just an ordinary part of life,” I thought. Again, wrong. I could’ve easily opted to not study hard, to do the bare minimum. Or potentially even drop out. Yet, even though the cards were always on the table, I sought to work for my grades. I wanted to improve. I wanted to prove that I was more than my preconceived notions. That I could be the person I always believed I was.
As for my peers, they inspired me to work harder. Some were high school dropouts, adult students with children and full-time jobs, even some of my peers. Regardless, we all shared a common goal: to obtain an education. Some of them were the most astute and intellectually astute people I’ve ever encountered. Some of them have even provided me opportunities that would open up doors for me that have allowed me to network and expand my career.
And to these individuals, I’m forever grateful.
To those who are currently in a situation similar to mine, I implore you to focus on your school work, even if it’s just tiny increments or seeking help from professors and labs. Maybe one day you’ll claim your prize as you stride across the stage, bewildered at the person you’ve become.
I hope one day I’ll be able to as well.
Yesenia Coello recently graduated from SUNY New Paltz. She previously attended SUNY Schenectady.
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