
How Becoming Valedictorian Destroyed a Part of Me
School is back in session and once again I am surrounded by exceptional minds with bright futures and extraordinary ambitions.
There are writers and poets crowding the cafes, scientists and researchers busy in lab, and those preparing to revolutionize the tech industry or Wall Street already drafting plans in the libraries. Who will make the next Facebook may be wandering the streets of the campus or a potential James Damore preparing his future proposal to a tech company he may one day work at could be sitting complacent at his desk.
Each is cultivating a hope or vision of their future and is driven by the faith in their own success.
But all of this is derived from who they once were and the accomplishments they have already achieved. Each has a past that has in some way shaped them to value an education and perceive one as a necessity towards the building of who they want to become.
This isn’t to say that everyone in a university was once valedictorian. Because not every intellectual was or is at the top of their class. But when there are thousands of students graduating with that coveted title each year, there is bound to be at least a handful attending your local university.
What is fascinating about this title is not what it took to achieve it but rather the psychology of the person that was shaped throughout the duration of those long 4 years.
How many honors classes they enrolled in or whether they took AP Calculus AB rather than AP Calculus BC their junior year is irrelevant to the establishment of the most fundamental characteristics of an individual. The tenths or even hundredths difference in a gpa is insignificant to the quantification of potential or measurement of possibilities open to them.
But what is funny is that high school students have found themselves immersed in a culture where that tenths or hundredths difference in gpa has become a reason for self deprecation and the lower level calculus class a definite indication that they have already failed.
The milk has not even spilled yet but we were already crying.
When I first started writing this post, I initially titled it “How Being Valedictorian Destroyed Me”. But, that’s not true.
It only destroyed a part of me.
It destroyed fearlessness. And with that, it took my creativity.
I became so focused with achieving those sparkling, embellished A’s that I lost sight of the truest purpose of an education: to measure knowledge by growth and the progression from a previous state of intellect.
It is the transformation of what we used to know into what we can know.
It is theory that has become application. It is derivation into formula.
It is everything I forgot to love.
Constant, reinforced prioritization of the grade inevitably led to linear thinking and the instinctive motivation towards gaining points in the grade book rather than constructing a deep foundation of the basic subjects. I pursued a creativity in maximizing scores rather than ingenuity in the material. I feared anything less than an A.
I no longer thought outside of the box but rather imprisoned myself within the walls of perfection. I not necessarily sought the glorified title of “valedictorian” but rather desired the squeaky clean glare of an unblemished transcript.
However, it is a universally known and accepted concept that A’s are good. The more A’s, the better. After all, the grade system is the highest regarded construct used in school to measure knowledge of a certain subject or class.
But time is an extremely valuable and often underrated concept. Because of my substantial dedication towards achieving good grades in all of my classes, I didn’t have time to specialize in the few that I felt a passion for. I essentially became very “well rounded”.
I never got a chance to write on Medium before or simply just for fun because I had to write my A paper first. I didn’t pursue 3D printing and design earlier because my two hour long AP calculus assignment was due. I didn’t bother to look at the more complex physics problems at the end of the chapter because I knew it wasn’t going to show up on the test.
I became a jack of all trades instead of establishing niches in those that made me “tick”.
It put a part of me that wanted to flourish on hold.
There was a pause on all things creative.

However, this is not to put down anyone out there that shares this title or discourage those in pursuit of those shiny A’s. There were other valedictorians from my high school, and I think they are all exceptionally creative. There remains no regret for those long 4 years, only definite admittance that it was a time investment.
And it was able to reveal parts of my character, many good things, that I would not be aware of if I had not upheld such a vision. It demonstrated commitment and relentless drive. It showed that I would not trip before the finish line or choke when trying to swallow the biggest bite.
I had a goal and I fought for it.
But, if I was asked by someone one day, “What is your story?”, this title would not be included in the narration of my epic tale. It does not define me because I am an ever changing story.
I am reborn from the ashes of what I have learned.
I am a scrapbook pieced together from lessons and practice.
I am a compilation of experiences.
Because life really is those intricate physics problems at the end of the chapter the teacher will not assign. It is the reaction to a ten page memo on the biological differences between men and women and the role its playing in the tech world. It is the material beyond the test.
The world is not measured by a set of glorified letters.
So, it shouldn’t be the king of mine.

