A Mature Student Memoir: How the real world made me a better student.
This journey was like flying a plane in thick fog with no controls. I would even argue that it still is, although I’ve just been flying the plane long enough to have some vague idea of why I’m violently hurtling across the sky.
A turbulent time in ones life just so happens to be the time when the “grown ups” around you are telling you to make concrete life choices. You need to start applying to universities, they say. Pick your top three programs (out of your incredibly preliminary and vague high school classes that you are currently taking), they exclaim. Decide the next four to six years of your life, they coo. How can you solidify such a thing without any direction? How can you be so malleable in your very existence, yet decide on a singular concrete path that is supposed to stay with you for the rest of your working life? This is a question that 17 year old me thought would instantaneously appear in my mind once I turned the magical age of 18, but I couldn’t have been any more wrong. I thought once I was done high school, the answers would become clear, but it only brought more confusion.
I was hit with the all too familiar smack of “what the f*ck is happening right now”
This journey was like flying a plane in thick fog with no controls. I would even argue that it still is, although I’ve just been flying the plane long enough to have some vague idea of why I’m violently hurtling across the sky. I started off doing exactly what my parents wanted; I finished high school with honours (where I’m from, it’s called Ontario Scholar), found a post-secondary program I liked and then immediately jumped in. With both parents in high profile careers, education was top priority for me growing up. My parents gave me every opportunity to succeed, and for that I am eternally grateful. My Mother is an Anesthesiologist with medical degrees from two different countries, and my Father is a Business Executive. Despite my love for reading and learning right from when I was a child, a private school education and a recommendation to have me skip Grade 1 entirely, I was hit with the all too familiar smack of “what the f*ck is happening right now” in my teen years. I had applied to universities, but because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, I didn’t have the right courses needed for the program requirements. I had no idea what I wanted out of life, school bored the daylights out of me, and I struggled doing things that were of zero interest to me. Honestly, as a teen I was allergic to doing things that I was forced to do even though I wasn’t interested in it. I still am, but I’ve learned to put on a pretty face so I don’t look like such a Debbie f*cking Downer while chugging away at mindless paperwork (don’t give me that look- you’ve done it too). All I knew was that I loved music and wanted to pursue something expressive. After having my art dreams crushed by my father at the ripe age of 14, I thought music was at least a little bit more on the academic side. I found a private vocational college that seemed suitable, and I began a three year diploma at the age of 18.
Honestly, if I ever decide to have kids, I would never pressure them into post secondary right off the end of high school. I understand why my parents did it, and that reason was because they didn’t want me to fall out of “learning mode”, but when your path feels unclear, you are setting yourself up for failure by being pushed into a program you’re not ready for. Three years of emotional immaturity, depression and confusion lead me to an unfinished diploma and the worst case of burnout I have ever experienced. I was thrust into a private college that overloaded their students with work (up to eleven courses a semester with no summer or winter time off), and I crumbled under that pressure. I went from zero to one hundred and had no emotional maturity or fortitude to hold up the weight of the real world.
Out of fear of changing my mind and looking like an idiot, I didn’t want anyone to know until I knew I was sure.
After those three years I was burned out, and more confused than ever. I had no clue why I failed, and why I didn’t have any of the skills I needed. I spent a good year of jobless, aimless depression sitting at home feeling like a failure. After a bit of a rough patch, I decided I needed to get a job. I needed to do something. Getting a job and working as a young person was the best decision I could have made at the time. Not only does it teach you social skills, patience and time management, but it allows you to stay functioning in society. It allows you to appreciate what hard work is, and shows you the value of money. I worked at my local Sephora where I became interested in packaging design, makeup artistry and visual design. Growing up, my Father always encouraged me to be an architect (and for some reason was oddly surprised when his right-brained, creative daughter who sucked at math didn’t choose that career path), but I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to make art with a purpose- something that helped people, and moved people. He then suggested Interior Design because I took a bit of an interest in that for a year or two in grade nine. I wanted to forge my own path, so at first, when I applied for a Bachelor of Design degree sitting at my desk at work, I did so without a word. I never told my parents I was thinking about it, just that I had been pondering the idea of going back to school. Only my boyfriend knew what I was interested in pursing, but even then I was afraid to say anything for certain. Out of fear of changing my mind and looking like an idiot, I didn’t want anyone to know until I knew I was sure.
Fast forward a few months, and I’m halfway through my first year. I don’t feel the same way I did when I started my first post secondary program; this time, it feels different. After working for three years between schools, I understand how to manage my time. I know how important loving your job is, and the balance between passion and financial sustainability. I don’t feel lost anymore. I understand the confines and challenges of the real world, because I’ve seen it. I know what it’s like to live paycheque to paycheque and now I understand why my parents wanted better for me. Even if I decide to stray from design, which I doubt I will (hopefully I don’t have to taste those words any time soon), I have the confidence in myself to know that failure is not the end. Failure is a key building block in understanding, and one should never shy away from it.
If you’re a confused student reading this, it will get better. This is one of those things that time and life experience will remedy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still confused as f*ck, but the more I experience life, the more confident I am in myself. The more I fall down, the better I am at dusting off the shame and propping myself back up again. It doesn’t matter how many times you fall down or how long you stay down, what matters is how you pick yourself back up again.
If you’re a parent reading this, and your teen says they’re not sure- listen to them. You may want your kids to be ahead of the game, but sometimes, we need to experience life before we can decide our place in it. Let them work after high school. Let them take a few courses or wait a year or two to decide their major. Let them see just how capable they are and guide them to make that beautiful discovery. Don’t be afraid, they’ll find out where their place is. Sometimes it just takes time.
