Prompt #2: Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud, and how does it relate to the person you are?
I dated a guy once. My best explanation for why this phenomenon occurred is that I felt I had to give this teenage rite of passage a try to appease my friends and family, who were far more upset than I was by the fact that I never had a boyfriend. I justified this attempt at dating to myself as a learning experience. One night, the young man in question called to ask me to see "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" but I couldn't go. I was in the middle of writing an essay for AP European History and it would have been immoral to run out on Napoleon just before Waterloo. I realized I could never fully commit myself to dating because I was already in a serious, committed relationship: with school. No awkward, gangly teenage boy could compete for my time and affection.
I used to think my relationship with school peaked when in fourth grade I received all A+'s on my report card, but I realize now that those challenging times in our twelve-plus year history (the turbulent Geometry Honors in 9th grade almost did us in) have allowed me to learn to accept the imperfect as still worthwhile. I can honestly say that until 9th grade I was a whore, a grade whore, but my love has evolved from a superficial attraction into a deep adoration of learning (I'm still attracted to a good-looking report card, but looking around isn't really cheating).
My love for school has transformed because of the strife that annually plagues our relationship. The problems typically arise around the end of the first quarter when all of the teachers are trying to shove in one more test; on those test-laden days, I grew suspicious of school. Was school so insecure that it had to test me to assure itself of my commitment? Was school so jealous that it had to bury me with work to prevent me from having time to love anything or anyone else? But at the end of those days, the relief and immense feeling of accomplishment overshadowed the suffering of hours earlier; I looked forward to the next challenge school would thrust upon me. In my sophomore year I was faced with an overwhelming amount of those test-laden days; every hour of my life was consumed by school. Drifting to sleep under "dawn's rosy fingers" after hours of slaving, I would choke on my resentment of school for consuming my life and also on the fear that our unhealthy closeness would rip us apart.
When eleventh grade arrived, full of opportunity, I decided that I needed a break (not a break-up) from school; some free time to define myself apart from school and to nurture my other relationships, with friends, with printmaking, with Assisteens (another relationship that vied for my undivided time and attention) and eventually with Hildegard (the 96-year-old cat-lady whose groceries I buy). By allowing myself a life outside of school, for the first time in a very long time, I finally felt whole. I found that I was capable of having other relationships without neglecting school.
In almost thirteen years-a time span defying most marriages in my zip code--Campbell Hall and I have grown so much, but as the end of our time together approaches, I feel us drifting apart. Now you have caught my eye, not as a mere flirtation, but as a soul mate, and I send this application in the fervent hope that you will recognize the beautiful relationship we could have. Here I am metaphorically coming to you on bended knee (don't worry, it's just a promise ring; I am not ready for THAT type of commitment), hoisting a boom box outside your window, proffering a bouquet of red roses, serenading you with a Spanish love song, promising to spend the rest of my educational life with you; I am willing to do any clichéd act if you'll just give "us" a chance. Don't spend the rest of your life wondering, "what if?"
