Reflections on High School

At my parents’ cajoling, I ate dinner with some really adorable incoming high schoolers a few weeks ago to give them advice. One of the kids just came from China two years ago; the other came four years ago. They were full of potential, yet they didn’t have anyone to guide them, to be their mentor.

I’m so grateful to have an older sister—not to mention loving parents and wise grandparents—that have helped me find my own direction. Honestly, a little bit of advice goes a long way. Just knowing what courses to take, what clubs to join, and how to study can be the difference between excelling and being mediocre.

It breaks my heart to know that there are so many people around the world who don’t have the same opportunities, who aren’t reaching their potential. I don’t know what one’s full potential is, or if it’s ever attainable, but I do think that everyone should at least have the opportunity to be the best version of themselves.

In these four years of high school, I am most proud that most of my decisions were not enforced upon me—I took the classes I wanted to take, not because I felt like I needed to, or because my parents wanted me to. I did the things I wanted to do. When I failed a test, it was because of my own bad habits. When I aced an exam, it was because I pushed myself to do so. My faults, my own. In this way, I take ownership of my life.

Yet, leaving high school gives me a tremendous sense of relief. Though I tried to take control of my life, I also spent a large part of high school jumping through hoops that were created by others. Taking the ACT. Taking SAT Subject Tests. AP exams. Maintaining good grades. As I enter the next phase in my life, I want to jump through fewer hoops made by others, and instead, do things on my own volition.

My advice to high schoolers are the following:

  • Get enough sleep. (I have yet to follow this advice, but I’m working on it…) But seriously, sleep is not for the weak. We are weak without sleep.
  • It’s better to have a few friends who care about you—who you would do anything for, and who would do anything for you—than to have a multitude of friends who don’t really care. Find friends who are authentic, who bring out the best in you, and who you deeply respect. In many ways, this helped me escape from the competitive Gunn environment that I find toxic and overwhelming.
  • Figure out the why in every class you take, every action you make. Find out what you value. Find out who you are. Find out what your pitfalls are. Self-knowledge may be the most important trait in success and will help determine your priorities. Be deliberate.
  • Aim for a solid A in every class. That way, you have some buffer if you feel like slacking off at the end of the semester. It’s so much easier to start well than to catch up.
  • Take initiative, show up, and do good work. This is surprisingly rare and can get you far in life.
  • Don’t (or at least try not to) give a crap about what other people think/do/say. You are your own person.
  • Romantic relationships are overrated, and honestly quite distracting. Instead, foster close relationships with your family and friends. Focus on being the best version of yourself—the rest will come later. And if it does come, don’t force it.
  • To get into an “elite” college, my best advice is to differentiate yourself. Do something really unique and/or do something really well. Develop your story and find your theme. Be someone you admire and respect.
  • Prioritize. These priorities may change over time and may be circumstantial, but whatever they are, put your heart into them.
  • You’ll never feel ready for research, a leadership position, taking a risk, etc., so just do it. It’s okay to doubt yourself, but don’t let that stop you (especially if you’re female: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/05/the-confidence-gap/359815/).
  • Develop self-confidence. It took me a long time to realize what self-confidence is: it’s knowing that you are different. Not better or worse. Just special. Hold yourself to high standards.
  • Make stress your friend (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcGyVTAoXEU). Learn how to deal and respond to it.
  • Question authority—rules aren’t always meant to be kept. Also, know that adults can be pretty nonsensical and even immature at times.
  • Zoom out. Think about philosophy, of why we’re here. Remember our insignificance. Think about community and the world at large. Think about what you mean to your parents, and what your parents mean to you.
  • Develop a growth mindset. You have more power than you think and, at a young age, more freedom than you know.

Book Review: Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

*This is the first of many book reviews I hope to write. I want to write book reviews to become a more critical reader and to better connect what I’m reading to my personal experiences and the world at large. These reviews will contain spoilers and are all my personal opinions.*

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I’ll admit, the first time I “read” this book, I listened to it with x1.5 speed for the first ~100 pages and Sparknoted the rest. I didn’t really get into the plot, seeing that I dismissed Raskolnikov as being strange, depraved, narcissistic, and exceedingly arrogant. His theory that some people were just born extraordinary and were thus exempt from all moral justice didn’t appeal to me—I had gone through the nihilistic and egotistic phase in life, and came out realizing that no one person is above another. He was so delusional, and though I understood his motives on a rational level, I never saw his plight in an emotional way.

Despite this terrible initial impression, I chose to do Crime and Punishment as one of my rereads in my English class (mostly because of my guilt for never actually reading the book and partly because I read some raving reviews on Goodreads and was intrigued by how people found value in it).

Senioritis hit me pretty hard, and I finally sat down with a resolve to read the book after coming to terms that I only had three days left to write an essay on it. It was hard to get through the first hundred pages—I know it’s supposed to be a page-turner, but honestly, I was quite bored. Several times, I questioned why I didn’t just choose a shorter, less tedious book to write about (and one that I had already read and had pages of notes on). Raskolnikov got on my nerves and was remarkably two-dimensional for someone who commits murder. The book seemed to try to be deep without really being too philosophical.

It was only in the later half of the book when I started getting really into the novel. As I started reading slower—finally absorbing the book—I began to feel real sympathy for all of the characters: Raskolnikov, Dounia, Sonia, Katerina, Marmeladov, and even Svidrigailov. Raskolnikov’s murders, though the central focus of the novel, weren’t what I found the most interesting—it was the complexity of the side characters and what drove them to do such strange and unexpected things.

I saw Katerina’s dignity as she spent her last rouples on an excessive dinner that was well beyond her means—how she danced on the street and proclaimed her ties to aristocracy. Instead of dismissing her as overly proud and shallow, I pitied and respected her. I saw Marmeladov as a good-for-nothing drunk of a father who let his daughter sell herself to prostitution while he sucked her money away, but I also saw his deep love for his family and respected him for that. I saw the parallels between Raskolnikov and Svidrigailov, and between Sonia, Dounia, and even Lizaveta. I loved and admired Dounia—her strength, her unwavering love and devotion for Raskolnikov, and simple practicality. Though he was a vile man, I even sympathized with the despicable Svidrigailov, and the motivation behind his suicide fascinated me. As I continued reading, I saw the layers of the book and realized that these subplots and characters, interwoven together, were what made this book a powerful masterpiece.

There were so many things I could have written about for my essay, and had I more time, I may have thought more deeply about how poverty affected Katerina or about the role of women in the novel. (Instead, I wrote about similarities and significance of Raskolnikov and Svidrigailov’s dreams—which were interesting in their own right, but not what gripped me when reading the novel.)

In all, though this book was extremely tedious (and had way too many long names), it was worth the effort. It was only when I let my guard down—when I turned off my rationalizing, judgmental brain and started to feel sympathy for the characters—when I actually started to comprehend the greatness of the novel. (Ironically, I suppose that is how Raskolnikov also became redeemed—through abandoning his over-rationalized theory.) This book challenged me in unexpected ways and made me think more deeply about poverty, justice, and morality. I’m thinking of reading this book again—this time letting it wash over me and without an impending deadline for an essay—and I’ll have no doubt that I will grow to appreciate it even more.

I Can’t Say

I lost something
Something I can’t name, something I can’t say—
A confidence, a possibility, a spunk.
My head, once full of magic and poetry,
Now filled with numbers so long and words so foreign
I can’t say.
They call it growing older, I call it a growing fear of not being enough.
I’ve been conditioned to jump through my own hoops
But somewhere, somehow, I lost something.

I had a voice that wasn’t afraid—
Now, I can’t say.

Too Hurt to Say

I nodded, too hurt to say how I really felt.
So I smiled, and you smiled—
You understand, right? This isn’t mutual
and I’m just too busy.
(Too busy for your best friend?
Or maybe I wasn’t, but she was to me.)
Sure I do, and now it’s mutual.

You left, but I don’t think you
knew how much it hurt to have that intense trust
tear away from my weary heart.
The door shut and I cried—too hurt to say.

My Father

Written in eighth grade, randomly stumbled upon recently:

“I could’ve been someone,” my dad says. “The next Einstein or Newton, I could have made the next Google.” I believe him, and I tell him this.

He grew up in a small, poor town in China, but nevertheless got into the best university in the whole country at the age of 16. For four years of his high school life, he did nothing else but study, study so that he could get into the best university, so that he could get the best-paying job, so that he could have a good rest of his life. His hard work paid off though- he brought his whole family to America. If he had stayed in China, I wouldn’t even be alive, due to the law which restricts having more than one child.

My dad is the life of parties, the one who always is in the center of the spotlight. He’s the motor of the family, the backbone of his workplace. He comes up with the strangest ideas, like bicycling to work, or digging a hole to make a jacuzzi in the sand. When I have questions in math, I know who I should talk to. He’s always there, as sure as the next tick of a clock, as steady as the beat of a butterfly’s wings.

Sometimes I feel bad, like somehow I know that if he didn’t settle down and have a family, if he hadn’t spent so much time and energy into making the family function, then he could have been someone big.

But then I realize that maybe devoting one’s life to something that seems small, like raising a family and watching children grow up, can sometimes be better than being someone big.