The other night, I finally received the last grade for my sophomore year of college. It arrived after waiting weeks for my philosophy professor to let go of his philosophy that the experience in a class matters more than the academic credit. I logged into the NYU academic portal, selected the "grades" options, and went to "Spring 2016" to see what the past four and a half months had resulted in. This is what I saw.
"A"'s, all "A"'s. After doing a jet lagged happy dance in bed, something else dawned on me. I'd also received all "A'"s for the fall semester.
I've had a 4.0 my entire sophomore year. And now I also have a 3.924 overall average. My parents and I were thrilled. Sophomore year in general had been really great. I'd had my creative work published in three literary journals on campus, found an amazing job at my college radio station which led to a lot of great friendships plus the opportunity to attend the Cannes Film Festival, and signed the lease to my first apartment, just to name a few things. I couldn't imagine things getting any better.
And that's when I started to get paranoid.
What if things don't get better than this? I thought. What if I have nowhere else to go but down? What if all of the accomplishments I've made this year are all I'll ever accomplish? Could it be that the rest of college will be a downhill spiral where I realize I shouldn't be studying the intersectionality of creative writing and gender studies with a maybe minor in film, but instead I should be going for accounting or law or something that won't elicit a groan from anyone over the age of 50?
The paranoia set in, and to make it worse, I thought of all the reasons I was probably correct. Example A: my future plans of graduate school, where M.F.A. program acceptance rates continue to drop as they get more competitive. Inspecting just a couple of my top schools sent my heart rate through the roof. Example B: my past sophomore accomplishments. My sophomore year of high school was undoubtedly my best, which made everything pale in comparison as friends graduated, I found fewer classes to take and outlets to expand into, and I just became less interested in general. And lastly, Example C: the next steps in my life involve the real world. And despite my having some of the things that would suggest I am a participant in this environment already (a credit card, an electric bill, a savings account with more than $20 -- all in my name), I don't really think I am.
It's all really scary. But you know what else? Getting to the places I got this year was pretty scary, too. I was terribly nervous when I applied for my job and submitted my piece to the literary journals. I was far more shy and skeptical about whether or not my classes would work out as I started off too scared to ask questions or communicate with my fellow classmates. After I pushed myself to get past my fears, things were fine. I can't forget this.
So yes, my sophomore year was no slump. It was really fantastic. And junior year should be nothing more than a continuation of the greatness. Fingers crossed.