.png)
-->
 |
| Madelin Shelton ('22) |
“I can’t, I have to study for my next exam.” The amount of
times my friends and peers have heard me utter this statement, or one similar,
is probably too numerous to count. In high school, my entire focus was
preparing for college. Study for the right exams, participate in an extensive
amount of extracurriculars, and do the right things to get into the best
programs. During my sophomore year of high school and after, even the coveted
McConnell Center and its incredible opportunities became ever present in my
mind as a goal to check off my list of college preparation. Now, what I am not
saying here is that high school students shouldn’t think about and plan for
college or that one should not set high goals for his or her self. However, my
life’s focus became centered around obtaining a high grade point average,
studying for an excellent test score, receiving desired rewards, and earning
prestigious scholarships. My identity became how well I did in school, how
involved I was, and the prestige associated with certain programs I was
involved with. Everything in my life pointed to the built-up utopia I had
concocted in my brain: my undergraduate career.
There I was on August 15th with cars loaded
and a stomach full of butterflies about to embark on a journey I had dreamt
about and hoped for the last several years. The anticipation and excitement of
move-in day and UofL’s Welcome Week kept up the illusion of how I imagined
college. This was all I had worked for throughout my high school career. This was when my
life would begin to take off. The fruit of my hard work and dedication was
about to unfold right before my feet. But an unnerving question came to my
mind, “Now what?”
My GPA, my ACT score, my accomplishments in high school: no
one cared anymore. Even if they did, I was now surrounded by people more
intelligent and more accomplished. My resume was not near as impressive when
compared to the best students at a much larger student body. This is not to say
that I was begging to tell people how amazing I thought I was. Talk to anyone
close to me and they know this is not, nor has it ever been, the case. However,
my identity encompassed my academic record and accomplishments. What I had
based myself on was washed away. I had a blank slate, and it would be up to me
to write my own story again.
Facing this identity dilemma has been one of the most
humbling experiences of my life. It has also given me an important lesson I
think most people can apply to their lives. We often focus on preparing for the
next phase of life. In many cases, falsely assuming that the next phase will be
far superior to the current one. “If I can just get into the right school, my
life will finally fall into place,” “If I can get my dream job, all my worries
will go away,” “I’ll finally be happy when I have a significant other in my
life to love and support me.” Perhaps for you reading this, what you are
looking forward to and preparing for is a different life goal. Maybe it’s
closely tied to the aforementioned examples. Regardless, there is one thing I
want you to remember; do not get so wrapped up in anticipating the next phase
of life that you forget how to enjoy the current one. Each phase in our life is
filled with joy and sorrow, delightful times and problematic times. Each one is
vital in shaping who we are and who we are going to become. And oftentimes, the
continual changes in our lives don’t exponentially increase the happiness we
experience. Think about and prepare for the next phase, but don’t view it as
the savior of your contentedness. If you hold this view, I guarantee you will
be disheartened.
Madelin Shelton, of Owenton, Ky., is first-year McConnell Scholar at the University of Louisville where she plans to study political science and philosophy.