Learning as an Adult: What I Wish I Knew by Candice

Learning as an Adult: What I Wish I Knew by Candice - March 2019 Scholarship Essay

As the valedictorian of my high school class, it would be expected of me to tell each new student to study hard, do all of your homework and class assignments, put forth your best effort, and follow your teacher’s instructions. These steps alone would have been enough to ensure my or any student’s success, and I encourage everyone, in any stage of life, to apply these principles to their situation. However, I have a terrible tendency to take good principles overboard. The natural tendencies found in my type A personality ensured that I placed extra effort into all assignments and is especially helpful in detail-oriented studies and work in art history and costume design. But I allowed these traits became an overbearing load, ear of making mistakes and not being absolutely perfect led me to spend many long nights studying for a test or perfecting a project when my time would have been best-served sleeping or doing something I enjoyed.

I had to be the top of every class and receive every possible point and academic accolade available. If a perfect score was possible, I had to achieve it. If a friend made a higher assignment score than I, I had failed. No project which I had poured countless hours of research and construction time into was “good enough" since I could only see the flaws and always feared the worse when it came to receiving my grade. The constant internal criticism and pushing made it impossible to enjoy any achievements. Positive words from my teachers and mom fell on deaf ears, and I was probably the most miserable person at my twelfth-grade graduation.

One does not immediately mature upon receiving a high-school diploma, and old habits don’t magically vanish on the first day of university classes. The desire for perfection followed me through my undergrad career and it still follows me today. But I am learning to grow. Realizing that receiving a “B” on a test would not end the world was a tearful lesson; receiving a final grade of “C” in chemistry did not bar my graduation. Even as recently as a few months ago I continued to learn that absolute perfection is not needed for success. While preparing for the GRE I knew that math could be my downfall, and I spent every spare moment studying for the quantitative section. I was frantic and reverted to the old belief that I had to be “perfect” to compete with other possible applicants to my graduate program of choice. I prepped and drilled for months, studying everything I could find and exhausting all of these resources. If I could prove to the graduate department that I took tests perfectly they would surely accept me.

Immediately after completing the test we receive our results – and I bombed on the math section. I was ten points off of my target score and only answered half of the questions correctly. I was sure that my chance at grad school was severely hampered and that the rest of my application could not make up for this failure. But I was wrong. This imperfection and all the other perceived imperfections on my application were not enough to deter Georgia Tech from offering me a spot in their HCI master’s program.

Perfectionism can play tricks on the mind, making one believe that he or she is superhuman in abilities, capable of doing everything absolutely correctly while also filing the individual with so much self-doubt that paralysis and procrastination feed the fearful thoughts that failure is inevitable. My quest for perfection led me to believe that asking for help or admitting defeat was a weakness and a mar on my character. This was extremely immature! No human is capable of performing every aspect of their life perfectly. If someone offers help, graciously accept. Teachers, staff, and other students are often very eager to reach out to assist others and see them succeed. Don’t let the fear of being perceived as imperfect hold you back. Ask for help, admit to and learn from mistakes, and understand that being a know-it-all is impossible.