In 2021, I resolve to lean into ignorance. by Maura

In 2021, I resolve to lean into ignorance. by Maura - December 2020 Scholarship Essay

“The only thing I know is that I know nothing, and I am not quite sure that I know that.” —Socrates

My first quiz bowl practice felt like a pie to the face. It undermined years of perfect grades to remind me that I did not, in fact, know everything. Initially, I struggled to adjust to cluelessness in the face of molecular compounds and twelfth-century epics. My tendency to inhale books helped, though. Slowly, I carved out a space for myself—first in practice, then on the A-team, then as a captain. I made study guides and friends, and soon my coach’s practice room felt like home.
Quiz bowl is a beautiful contradiction. For every question you learn the answer to, three more lurk in the shadows. I’d never understood learning as a vulnerable act before, but quiz bowl left me no other choice. The game became an opportunity to explore a universe infinitely bigger than myself. Once I knew that I knew nothing, I no longer feared ignorance.
A year later, when I became interested in studying a field nobody else was researching, the lack of precedent did not dissuade me. I thought of my autistic younger brother, who didn’t speak in full sentences until he was nine. I thought of the years of therapy that have helped me heal. So much of the research I found involved putting autistic children through pain and stress just to see how they would react. But none of this research on stress addressed treatments for autistic people with stressor-related disorders like PTSD. With every morally questionable study, I wondered what would have happened if my brother had been one of the research subjects. I decided that I wanted to be the therapist my brother never had. While few to no psychotherapists treat autistic patients, there's a need for accessible mental health support. Guided by my love for the autistic community and my fascination with finding new ways to help them, I welcomed the uncertainty of a path not yet built.
In 2021 more than ever, I plan to embrace ignorance. As I begin college amidst a pandemic, I will need every fumble, every stupid question, and every ounce of stick-to-it-iveness I have. My resolution is to dive into psychology, but more importantly, to do it backwards and blindfolded. There’s no place for me in a field that hurts the community I love, but I know that psychology can be more than that.
The disabled people I know are vivacious and capable participants in their families and communities. Their stories are chances to learn not only where existing systems have failed them but also what would help them thrive. In this sense, I am lucky to know nothing. My education on disability has taken place over years of volunteering in summer camps and classrooms. My understanding of autism comes not from a textbook or research, but from teaching my brother how to use the microwave without blowing up our lunch.
The new year brings opportunity. I’ve decided that I will seize the chance to structure my education around experiences. Whether shaping my formal education with activism and community organizing or throwing myself into personal projects, I’ve resolved to face the world with open hands. I don’t know the solution to these disparities in psychology and mental health treatment, but I hope to be the therapist who learns from ignorance rather than falling victim to complacency.
I do not know what my chosen field will look like when I reach it. Current research doesn’t account for the areas I want to explore. I will have to develop my own course of study with guidance from the people I want to serve. With ignorance on my side, though, it’s possible. In 2021, I resolve to continue knowing nothing.