If I’m going to be genuine and honest, I am a perfectionist. I seek unattainable levels of success and belittle my self-worth when these fabricated accomplishments are not achieved. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. When I entered college, I was a wide-eyed freshman that wanted nothing more than a new beginning, a new place and a new adventure. I wanted to be everything I ever imagined I could be and more, but I was clueless.
I attempted to join clubs, but never seemed to find the right fit. I attempted to play a sport, but failed miserably. I lacked a niche at my university, unable to find who I was in any student organization. So what did I do? I studied. I put everything I had into learning and taking charge of my very expensive higher education. I never skipped class, often stayed in on weekends to complete assignments and focused entirely on my coursework. When winter break arrived after my first semester and final grades were posted, that’s when I saw it: the 4.0 GPA.
That’s also when I became anxious, uncompromising and unbelievably stressed. My family was so proud, my friends were jealous and I was inevitably torn between pride and the stress of maintaining such an achievement. But I did, for three more semesters. I missed hockey games, I lost friends and I cried. I hated myself when I failed and lashed out at others due to the pressure and anxiety. I stayed up all night, cramming and studying, solely for the purpose of maintaining this “coveted GPA.” I wasn’t even learning anymore, but instead, eagerly overloading my brain with information to achieve nothing less than a 94 in any class.
I even used the syllabus to calculate exactly what I needed on each assignment, presentation or exam to earn an A in any class. I, to put it nicely, was absolutely insane. It wasn’t until my fall semester of junior year, during finals week, that I felt like my world had ended. I had pulled yet another all-nighter, studying and calculating exactly what I needed on my exam the next morning to earn my A. I studied for hours, quizzing myself and memorizing information. I took my exam and I got the grade back: I had missed my A by two points on the final exam.
I just remember sitting there, completely distanced from the world around me. This unnecessary marathon I had been running to earn perfection was now over. I wasn’t perfect. I no longer had this amazing, wonderful, “oh my god, how do you do it?” achievement. I was just a regular college student. I was just like everyone else. And it was the single greatest thing that could have ever happened to me.
The thing is, there’s so much pressure for Millennials to be perfect. From our early years, we’re told that to get into college, you must have all A’s. While attending university, we’re told that employers look at our transcripts and take GPAs seriously. And it may be true, to a point, but the stress of maintaining an exceptional GPA lessens our ability to learn as students. Forcing students, like myself, to hate our own talents and skill-sets when we can’t perform to a specific standard is unsettling. It’s great to get all A’s, but not every subject is going to match your interests. Not every professor is going to engage you enough to want to learn the material. Not every assignment, test, quiz or presentation is going to dictate your future.
If there’s anything I learned after “ruining my GPA,” it’s that college is a place to learn, a place to grow and a place to explore any and all of your interests. Do you want to know what I did my senior year? I had fun. I studied hard (it’s innate, I apologize), but I also made time for myself, my family and my friends. I laughed more, I cried less and I discovered a world that’s a little less stressful than it was before.
My message to any and all students who are currently overworking themselves to maintain such a high GPA, I commend you. I understand the stress and I understand the self-worth that you have tacked on to your GPA. But my 3.97 will always be better than any 4.0 because that 0.03 difference is now full of experience, adventure and great memories. If you don't believe me, however, just know that if by fate or by chance, that 4.0 becomes a 3.9 (or dare I say it, a 3.8), I know you’ll be just fine. Because guess what? It happened to me and the world is still spinning and I still have a big ole smile on my face (oh, and my sanity).
