Malleable?
Growing up I was undoubtedly sheltered. I grew up in a town of 42,000 people, I thought a salary of $80,000 was on the much higher side of things, and I was scared of big cities. Heck, I didn’t even know what a Canada Goose jacket was! I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I knew what made me happy. Now, three years into my Middlebury education and my beliefs, my ideals, and my goals of what I want in life have been flipped entirely on their head.
Freshman year my advisor asked us to write down our goals, and what we wanted to be when we grew up. I boldly wrote that given my desire to help people, and my passion for education, equal rights, healthcare, and the environment, I wanted to be a United States Senator by the age of 30. I confidently asserted that I would complete a Senate internship, finish politician training, work on a campaign, and crush my LSATs all before senior year of college.
I still have this handwritten document that I submitted to my professor a few weeks before freshman year started. My scrawly handwriting flows across the page detailing my dreams.
Every now and then I look at it this document and laugh. I laugh because clearly my goals were lofty, but even more, I laugh to make myself feel better about the fact that I am nowhere near where I thought I would be. I confidently wrote that after graduating from Middlebury, I would attend Yale, Harvard, or Georgetown law, yet today, my mediocrity slaps me in the face and tells me these dreams are unlikely. Was it stupid of me to aim big? Was it stupid of me to be so confident, or was I just hidden behind the shelter of my small town upbringing, unaware of what the world beyond Burlington, Vermont included?
As soon as I got to Middlebury, I felt so incredibly inadequate. I was in classrooms filled with absolute geniuses, people who worked incredibly hard, and were naturally so intelligent, and I felt that there was no possible way for me to catch up. My public education had not prepared me for college coursework. I would attend my lectures and sit there silently, avoiding eye contact with my professors, and praying not to be called on. Each class I felt overwhelmed, and each night, struggling through a 100 page reading of political theory, I would be met by the unfortunately familiar feelings of inadequacy that had overwhelmed me just a year prior during the college admissions process.
Even now, I can vividly remember crying to my mom on the couch as I filled out my college applications, with an overwhelming sense of failure. I sobbed to her and apologized for my shortcomings, because I was truly convinced I wouldn’t get into any of the schools I was applying to. My older sister was valedictorian of our high school, was an absolute legend when it came to basketball, and was offered scholarships at an impressive number of colleges. Her shadow had followed me through the entirety of my education, and I felt it pressing down on me as I tried to find a college that I would be able to get into. Months after my emotional breakdown, I got my college acceptance letter, and I had never been more proud of myself. My parents were so happy, everyone was. I just wish those brief feelings of pride and confidence could have lasted a little longer.
And as I sit here, three weeks into my senior year at Middlebury College, I feel those same pressures that overwhelmed me during the college admissions process. This time, however, these pressures aren’t from my family, but from the environment I’ve immersed myself in at Middlebury. I often wonder where I would be, or what my ideal future would look like had I surrounded myself with different people at Middlebury, or even gone to a different school.
In high school I had friends with very similar goals, values, and upbringings. One of my best friends also wanted to be a United States Senator, and I was constantly inspired by her. But as I look back and read my piece I wrote freshman year, “My Future,” I wonder if that’s actually what I wanted, or were my desires and ambitions simply molded by those I surrounded myself with? Had I surrounded myself with politically ambitious people in college would I be ten steps closer to my goal of being a US Senator? Maybe the people I’ve surrounded myself with at Middlebury have made me realize my true goals, goals I didn’t even know I had. Or, even worse, maybe my malleability defines my character more than anything else. I like to think that I am confident in my ambitions, and that my personal ideals define me more than who I surround myself with, but to be honest, I don’t know. Today, my goals change daily. Do I want a job where I can make a lot of money and strive towards an elite life that so many Middlebury students have grown up with, or do I just want a job that fulfills me and allows me to help others? Do I want to enter the cutthroat world of corporate America, or would I be fine living in small town Vermont for the rest of my life?
Growing up my dad would always say, “No matter what you’re doing, just make sure you’re happy!” I’ve tried to live by these words no matter what I pursue, but as I look towards the next stage of my life, the most unnerving thing is that I can’t even define what would make me happy. And that, my lack of an answer to one of the simplest questions, that’s what scares me the most.
