The school agrees with me considering a few weeks ago, I was
accepted into the Honors Program that they introduced last spring. It came with
a hefty scholarship, and in return, I was expected to take 13 credit hours of
honors courses. The problem came when I sat down with the advisor to schedule
those honors courses. “The program is so new,” he explained, “that we don’t
have many classes available yet. The only English Composition honors class we
have, you’ve already taken, and there’s only one 3-credit Psychology class
available for you to take, but we should be adding more for future semesters.”
I signed up for that solitary class and left feeling like a rock was stuck in
my shoe.
The other aspect of the honors program that was clarified by
the advisor was that I would be assigned a mentor according to my major, but as
there are no Composition honors classes, there are no composition honors
mentors. I would instead be paired with the Psychology mentor. It just happens
that the psychology class I’ve taken this summer is taught by the head of the department and, you guessed it, my mentor.
We’re going to call this professor Dr. Doctor because he is
working on his second doctorate. I have been assured
by everyone I meet that he is a brilliant man, with a great heart and a stellar
mind, but sadly, I never got to see that aspect of him. Dr. Doctor and I got
off on the wrong foot, at least from my perspective. It’s not that he did
anything wrong, necessarily, but we have a clash of personalities. I am a
direct “Yes or no” kind of person, concerned with efficiency and clear
communication, while Dr. Doctor is more of the “Sage on the mountain” type of
person, giving cryptic advice and encouraging students to use their best
judgement. I struggled all semester to get any clear answers or real help from
him. My final paper had to be written twice because the instructions were two
pages long and meandered pendulously from point to point. I did it “wrong” the
first time. Let me be clear, I knew it was “wrong” and the assignment made no
sense to me, but I believed I was handing in what he asked for, with all its
wrongness. He read my first draft and all I could gather out of his critique
was that I had done it wrong, and it should have been like a standard paper.
Well, shit! I can write standard papers! So, the second time around, I wrote it
like I knew papers should be written in the first place. I got an A. In fact, I
finished the class with over 100%, despite feeling like it was a complete waste
of my time.
The idea of having Dr. Doctor as my mentor slowly became a
rock in my other shoe, and I was developing an uncomfortable limp. As I shifted
my thoughts from the summer semester to the fall, I sat down to really think
about where I was going to go from here and whether or not it was worth making
the trip with this limp. The lesson from the difficult semester came to me
then: “Nicole, what do you want?”
I started working this out with some retrospection. I went
back to school because I wanted to continue educating myself. In that regard, I
have been successful. I wanted to get involved with college life to experience
what I missed the first time around. By joining the LGBT group and subsequently
falling into an officer role, I have been successful. I wanted to take classes
to better my writing. As the only writing classes I have taken so far were
Composition 1 (because my ACT scores expired a long time ago and my test-out
was no longer valid from 1998) and Business Writing (which isn’t real writing,
if you ask me), I have not been successful. Memos and dossiers and proposals? My
brain was numb, not engaged.
Finally, I wanted to major in Psychology because the subject
is fascinating to me. I passed the basic Psychology course many years ago, so I
didn’t need to take it again. Instead, what I was left with were specialized
courses. As I thought about this further, the ache in my heel indicated that I
was finally getting to the root of the issue. I sat down with my schedule, my
notes, my graduation requirements, and the list of classes to hash this out
once and for all. What I realized was that, save for one Abnormal Psychology
class, I wasn’t interested in the specialized classes I needed to take for my
major. From there the answer was clear: I need to drop the Psychology major. I
went into it with high hopes, but I can see now that I am wasting my time,
money, and energy. I reconfigured what my future would look like without
Psychology and discovered that, by focusing on English Composition alone, I
will be graduating in the spring.
Ah, but remember the Honors Program? There are no classes
for my Composition major, but if there were, with graduation happening in two
semesters, there really isn’t enough time to meet the 13 credit hour
requirement. Running everything through the “What do I want?” filter again, I
understood that being in the Honors Program wasn’t really going to benefit me
at all. Sure, it comes with a scholarship, but what good is a scholarship if it
means you’ll be going to school longer just to get your degree? I would
actually save more money by graduating quickly than by allowing the scholarship
to be a buffer against tuition. Furthermore, while I will fully admit that I
was excited about joining a slew of honors clubs, I realize joining them all would
just be a waste of my time. Without the Psychology major, I cannot join their
honor society, Psi Beta. But I can still join Phi Theta Kappa, which is the
National Honor Society. A week ago, I had three honors groups available to me,
but I’m sure one will be plenty.
I came to college to open doors, but here I am preparing to
close some really big ones. Dropping a major and saying no to the Honors Program
seems like a really bad idea, academically. What about me, personally? What do I want? I want to creatively write,
and I realize that by closing these doors, I will be able to redirect my
resources back to what will nurture that. I can focus on classes I will enjoy,
or will at least help me reach my higher goals. I can more quickly graduate to
either move on to another school to seek the next degree, or I can just put my
degree in a nice frame and hang it on the wall beside my other awards and
accomplishments, to think about warmly when I dust it from time to time.
This has been my take-away from this semester. I can be, and
should be, selective. If I’m miserable, walk away. If I’m not being fulfilled,
stop putting energy into it. If the “benefits” are really a ball and chain
around my ankle, get out. I do not have to do anything that brings me
unnecessary stress or work when I have my goals clearly defined. This means
being clear about what I want for myself and the path I want to take to get
there. I’m a hard-working and intelligent woman—I have more than proven this—and
it takes wisdom to locate what truly serves me. The past few months, I have put
too many things in the way of my progress and it’s time to start letting go.
