I Don't Know by Shreya

Shreyaof Pittsburgh's entry into Varsity Tutor's June 2019 scholarship contest

  • Rank:
  • 0 Votes
Shreya of Pittsburgh, PA
Vote for my essay with a tweet!
Embed

I Don't Know by Shreya - June 2019 Scholarship Essay

As the youngest child in a family of geniuses, excellence was impressed on me at an early age. In elementary school, teachers would expect me to raise my hand and would often call on me by the wrong name and with a look of pride when I said the correct answer. The words "I Don't Know" were not to be in my vocabulary. Because of my last name, I was expected to lead, to clarify, and to be able to answer any question someone else would put upon me.
Admittedly, the feeling was addicting. Being right every single time, having every answer, and having a class look up to you became a drug. As a child, knowing how to use the British spelling of the word doughnut (the American spelling was too simple) awarded me near celebrity status. Of course, this system was impossible to maintain throughout life. Even as I developed clear interests away from traditional subjects, the pressure to lead, to have the ecstasy of living up to my last name, lured me to keep studying into insanity. Random trivia, Disney characters, and sports metaphors were all supposed to be under my area of expertise.
Eventually, I decided that studying was useless. If I already had this reputation, I could make up facts and have people believe me. Thus, every time something seemed completely out of my depth, I would raise an eyebrow, completely make up a fact, and convince an entire room that I was completely correct. It was a skill that I would brag about with pride, that anybody would follow what I said no matter what.
This all came to a head in freshman history. Somehow, I had gone nine years in the public school system without ever being questioned when I was wrong. Unfortunately, the first time I was questioned, I had no idea how to handle it.
After confidently stating that Bloody Sunday in Russia was in the midst of the 1917 Russian Revolution, I was faced with a raised eyebrow in return as my teacher aggressively (in my perspective) stated, "Just admit you don't know."
Every other teacher I had encouraged me to guess for partial credit and I valiantly argued my point until my history teacher flatly pointed out that it was impossible to argue with a textbook. He had corrected me and I had been wrong.
One conversation wasn't enough to do years of arrogance. Instead, I was flatly and quickly proven wrong every blue day (Tuesdays and Thursdays). Something my teacher always repeated was, "If you don't know, you can ask for help, and we can figure it out together."
It took approximately 186 school days for me to figure it out and truthfully, the realization that I was wrong the entire time only hit during the final when it was far too late.

Votes