Learning to be Broken

I’d like to believe that I was good at school at one point. It was probably around fourth or fifth grade. My proclivity for learning was at a high during those formative years, and I remember loving knowledge and books and soaking in every new thing like I was drowning and words were the only air I had left.

Somewhere soon after, however, I ceased to be good at school. Sure, my grades were all A’s and B’s, but from then on, I ceased to learn. The only skill I mastered was learning to play the system. Cramming for a test, regurgitating information, and forgetting it seconds after the exam ended became the norm. In high school, doing this was the norm, and it wasn’t too difficult because the classes weren’t too difficult. Everyone did it. No one enjoyed learning. We enjoyed being done with the system.

Fast forward to completing semester numero uno at the Naval Academy. Everyone posted on Facebook about how blessed and happy they were to have received (insert ridiculously high GPA here) for a grade point average from this school or that. Even kids at my own school were elated with their 4.0’s and 3.79’s, as they rightly should be. For the first time in my life, I was not among that blissful crowd.

I was awarded a 2.24 GPA.

Talk about a kick in the gut, right? I got my semester grade report and my heart sank. I’d given all I had, and it was just barely enough to pass the school’s minimum of a 2.0.

Why am I writing this blog post? People always come up to me or call me and say how my life looks so good here at the Academy. Of course it does! I only post the positive things on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter. If I posted an accurate representation of my life here at the Academy, you would be seeing pictures of bloody and calloused hands after a rowing practice. You would cringe at the dark circles that have worked their way under my eyes and squirm as you watched a plebe punishment being doled out at a feedback session. I’m not alone in this situation, make no mistake about it. Everyone here goes through the same struggle, and it’s often not one of particular beauty.

I do not write this article for pity or to elicit some sort of response. I merely write with one intent — to inform you that the lives of those you once believed had everything together can be, at times, anything but that.

I thought about quitting the Academy last night. My forgetfulness caused my company’s (group of people I live with) plebes (freshman) to be awarded yet another punishment by our training staff, and for me, it was the straw that broke my back. I was sick, exhausted, struggling to balance classes and sports, and was tired of the constant, nonstop nature of the place. I was convinced I couldn’t wait four more months to be done with being a plebe. My faith was failing me. It felt like I was screaming out for help and refuge, and that even my God wasn’t listening.

The Academy finally broke me — frankly, I’m surprised it took this long.

However, this is not the end. I was dangerously close to looking up paperwork to quit the Academy last night, but today is a new day. Yes, I’m in a tough situation.

I’m going to have to kick some serious derriere to pull myself out of the hole I am in.

I’m going have to discover how to learn again.

I’m going to have to learn humilty to take every kick that is delivered and strength to keep my head up while it happens.

I’m going to need to learn how to truly take in information and learn how to be broken.

This school is formative — in order to truly become great, you must break before you are rebuilt. I resisted learning in both ways until yesterday. From this brokenness comes my new declaration.

This school will never break me again. My life is not perfect, but it is the life I chose. I am surrounded by some of the best people I have ever had the privilege of knowing and loving, and I swear to them and to God that I will never quit. One sunny day in May of 2019, I’m going to be throwing my cover into the air, sobbing and screaming and hugging my families, and walking up to my grandfather and accepting my first salute as Ensign Jacqueline Neville. I will make it to the day, and it will be only because I learned to break.