| Risky choice pays off big (5/08) | | Print | |
| Written by Sanyee Yuan | |
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Last spring, for the first time in my five semesters of self-scheduling, I experienced a major meltdown in arena. And it wasn’t because my classes were closed: That morning, I had strolled around the gymnasium at the top of the alpha rotation, garnering a spot in each of my first-choice classes. The real cause of my distress was the unwanted Physics class on my course request sheet.
Months before self-scheduling, my counselor had encouraged me to take a science class as a seventh class. So I did. However, after I was voted into a student government position, I planned to replace Physics with Leadership. The counseling table in arena didn’t support this decision. Hearing that I had “only” taken two years of science, they emphatically warned against dropping Physics. They repeated, “Two years of science are required for most colleges, but THREE years are recommended.” All of a sudden, I was flooded with uncertainty. The Lowell mentality hit me hard: College competition would be fierce — would two years of science class keep me from gaining admission into a good college? My Ivy League and UC dreams began to fragment and splinter. I glanced at my course list with frustration. My counselor looked over my shoulder and attempted to calm me down, pointing at the elective classes that I could drop in lieu of Physics. However, I failed to see the logic in replacing classes like AP Psychology, AP Spanish, and Adv Journalism that I was fascinated with, for one that I would take only to appease admissions officers. I couldn’t believe it: I had absolutely no passion or intrinsic motivation to take a science class and yet counselors, teachers, and fellow students in arena were all attempting to talk me into taking it. They insisted that completing four years of science was ideal and taking three years of science was playing it safe. But, I wondered, was it safe to force myself to do something I dislike? I felt trapped, slowly suffocated by the repeated reprimands to, “Think of college! Think of college!” When one friend chided, “It’s just one year — it won’t be so bad,” I imagined myself dragging my heels to Physics each day for my entire senior year and sitting for hours each week staring at the clock. It was then that I knew dropping Physics was the right choice for me. As I marched to the science table to drop the class, I truly believed that no great harm would come from pursuing my passions. I made a mental promise to myself then and there, that if I gained admission into one of my dream colleges by the close of senior year, I would write a column in the paper and publicize how I took “only” two years of science at Lowell and turned out just fine. I got into Harvard. From this “to take or not to take” science conflict, I realize how my arena experience was blown out of proportion. One little science class was only one part of my college application, and just like test scores, which thousands of other students can bring to the table, the classes on the transcript are not as distinguishable as the unique facets of your personality. I am leaving school with no regrets about how I’ve spent my past four years. I am not feeling any deep “coulda, woulda, shoulda” pangs because I have always followed my own interests and allowed my academic and extracurricular curiosity to guide my decision-making. And I can assure you that that is the best recipe for a memorable high school experience, getting into a good college and maintaining a happy, healthy lifestyle. |
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to listen.
