Yesterday, after what seemed like the world's longest travel day, I finally got home to the MI.
While getting settled in my room, which by the way my mother has turned into a holding cell for newly laundered clothing/gift center/locale for other random relics from my adolescence, I came across an opened transcript from WashU on my desk. I must have had an extra one still kicking around from my grad school application days.
Looking over my course selections, and the subsequent grades I recieved was like two pages of reliving undergrad. I saw my strong semesters, the semesters I kicked it (yet still got good marks somehow?!), the semesters when I emotionally and mentally struggled, the semesters when I cried more than I laughed, and the semesters when I laughed more than I cried. All of them are there on that wonderfully ugly green watermarked paper.
It was amazing to me to see how much work I did, and to realize that all of that effort and knowledge still resides in my me, and (even though I didn't recognize it as it was happening) has shaped my path and my personality. It's crazy. So often when I think about college, I fondly think of the great times outside of the classroom, and the class time sort of becomes the backdrop. But if I stop for a moment, it all comes back: the professors, the discussions, the inevitable stupid person that keeps talking without ever making a valid point, the papers, the readings, actually going to the library... all of the mental investment...all of the learning!
Maybe you all have already had that experience... and I'm just catching up. But I totally needed a heart to heart with myself. I feel like I've been floundering a bit since I graduated from the second master's program. Like once I started working and attempting to earn money, I started letting other people's mistakes and under estimation of my skills and worth start to define how I felt about me. But looking at the transcript was wildly fulfilling...not because it was perfect (cuz I totally have a big ole' NCR in language acquisition!)...but because it signifies a portion of finished work and my capability to accomplish tasks. And to be honest, I felt like I had lost that part of myself over the past few months.
They say you can't know where your going until you know where you've been... I guess they had a good point! I'd be interested to know if anyone else has had this experience...college transcripts or high school year book...?
There is just something inspirational and quietly triumphant in acknowledging one's personal history--not because we have overcome, but because of our efforts we are continuing a tradition of consistant overcoming. And that feels good.
