GRADES, GRADES and MORE GRADES
I wasn't smart. I never have been. I was the little girl in the classroom who was sent to the corner for talking too much. But I never really misbehaved. I never really did anything to be noticed, but just enough to be annoying.
I was defiant, not necessarily by action, but definitely by words. By 14, I thought I knew it all, so I would share the depth of my knowledge with the masses. So, I was too good to be given the answers - I thought I had them all.
I had never cheated in my life - but one day, in the sweltering heat, I had to take a math test. My self-teaching books were right beside me. I didn't know the answer, and the only classes I was passing with flying colors were music classes. I needed to pass this test, so mom would get off my back. The instant I started to look up the answer was the instant she came around the corner. I was caught - but I wasn't caught cheating, I was caught not knowing the answer. To me, that was worse than anything else.
I watched myself after that. I had to make sure that I either had enough answers to pass the classes or enough justifications why I wasn't passing. I needed an out so that I would never be wrong.
As we prepared to move back stateside for what was to be my last year of High School, I was asked to take a test to enroll in a private school. My mom was worried I wouldn't pass. I hadn't been an A student since middle school.
It took me a few hours to complete the exam. To everyone's amazement (including my own) I received high scores. I was immediately accepted.
In college, again, I did just enough to get by. I spent most of my time with friends and boyfriends, eating, going to the mall or movies, etc. - The college life. To me, classes and grades were a joke - just life's punchline for our ridicule - so I wasn't going to let it get the best of me - I would go just far enough - I was the epitome of mediocre - and I was ok with that. I was sure it didn't matter to anyone else, so why should it matter to me?
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Colossians 3:23-25 And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the L-rd, and not unto men; Knowing that of the L-rd ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for you serve the L-rd Messiah. But he that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done: and there is no respect of persons.
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Thursday, May 04, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
THE BUBBLE VS. THE REAL WORLD
I was so happy to be away from S. FL. In my 18-year-old mind, I was on the top of the world - I was in the "real world" - where I could be myself and noone would judge me by any other standard.
The university that I attended had a commonly used name for its environment - "The Bubble." I heard about the name as soon as I started to become familiar with my surroundings. At first, it didn't seem applicable to me - I mean, what was a "bubble" about this place that wouldn't be the same anywhere else? But, as time progressed, I adapted to the bubble. I realized it was a safe environment, but maybe it wasn't "real life."
The bubble was comfortable and safe. A single patrol car was always somewhere nearby and there was always food to eat. It was common to see people out late at night talking, walking , playing, dating, or just goofing off. I loved the freedom this place granted.
And then there were classes, but that was actually the side factor. I was always waking up right before it was time to go to class - just listening to the professors, but never really taking notes. And homework was just something we seemed to laugh off. Yeah, we would get a little more serious around test time, but just enough to get the job done. And even then, it was all night study parties with movies, pizza and laughter - lots and lots of laughter.
The bubble was our real world.
I was so happy to be away from S. FL. In my 18-year-old mind, I was on the top of the world - I was in the "real world" - where I could be myself and noone would judge me by any other standard.
The university that I attended had a commonly used name for its environment - "The Bubble." I heard about the name as soon as I started to become familiar with my surroundings. At first, it didn't seem applicable to me - I mean, what was a "bubble" about this place that wouldn't be the same anywhere else? But, as time progressed, I adapted to the bubble. I realized it was a safe environment, but maybe it wasn't "real life."
The bubble was comfortable and safe. A single patrol car was always somewhere nearby and there was always food to eat. It was common to see people out late at night talking, walking , playing, dating, or just goofing off. I loved the freedom this place granted.
And then there were classes, but that was actually the side factor. I was always waking up right before it was time to go to class - just listening to the professors, but never really taking notes. And homework was just something we seemed to laugh off. Yeah, we would get a little more serious around test time, but just enough to get the job done. And even then, it was all night study parties with movies, pizza and laughter - lots and lots of laughter.
The bubble was our real world.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
GOING TO COLLEGE
Oh the joys of the college years - the time to get away from the "slavery" of household chores, parents and siblings. The time to study - or at least pretend like your studying - while in the meantime becoming an expert on you. The time to stay up as late as you want - who knows, maybe not even get to your bed before class the next morning, to eat what and when you want, to make friends, create relationships that have nothing to do with where you were from, who your parents or siblings are, but just focuses on you. The time to speak your mind - whether you really believe what you are saying or not. The time to be free.
How glorious - to bask in self-indulgence and revel in egocentricity.
Getting to college was my first hurdle. Since I had been studing via correspondence in Brazil, I was exactly on the same track as everyone else. During what was supposed to be my junior year of High School, I took an entrance exam to a private High School in S. FL. To my parent's absolute amazement (since I had not been the epitome of excellence during my High School years), I passed with flying colors. So, in everyone's understanding, I should be fine. I flew back to S. FL, spent the first few months between my 2 grandmother's houses, and started my senior year. It was so strange, to have to walk to classes, sit in a desk all day, wear a uniform - I was not used to this. In fact, I had to go to the doctor and get a back brace to wear for a few months because I couldn't stand being in a seat all day.
The rich kids didn't help anything. Later, I came to find out - it's not just that they were rich, they were just being Americans. I thought it was so weird that they would take food to school, maybe take one bite or sip and chunk it in the garbage can. Then they preceded to buy junk food for the rest of the day. Once, I stood up at my lunch table and screamed at all of them - "YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW SELFISH YOU ARE!!! AT MY HOUSE IN BRAZIL, PEOPLE COME BY TO ASK FOR OUR EMPTY 2-LITER BOTTLES AND THEN ASK US TO FILL THEM UP WITH OUR CLEAN WELL WATER FOR THEM TO TAKE HOME TO DRINK. AND YOU IDIOTS WASTE MONEY BUYING CRAP YOU DON'T EVEN EAT!!!" And then I stormed off. That was a breaking point for me - the point where I realized - I am not American, I am not Brazilian - I need to find myself. On the bright side, at least I was standing up for myself (different than my first year in school in Brazil when I was humiliated for not speaking Portuguese).
Now, don't get me wrong, there were a few people who were genuine and made me their friends, but they were few. The band became my home away from home since the choir wouldn't even take me because I hadn't been there the year before. The rest of the students resented me for getting into this private club of theirs - how dare I try to graduate with them when I hadn't paid the price of being there for at least the last 4 years. And guess what? I didn't graduate with them. Near the end of the year, we discovered that I didn't have enough credits by their standards to graduate. So, I wouldn't go to Europe on the Senior trip, I wouldn't walk down the aisle with them, I wouldn't receive a diploma.
Instead, I went to a 2-week music school in Nashville with my mom. It introduced me to the world of performance, songwriting and recording - what I wanted to do - what I WOULD DO.
There was still the college situation to look at. My parents would be going back to the amazon. I had to make a decision. We contacted a school in the heart of AR. We went to visit and I auditioned for the Dean of Music. To this day, I don't know why - but they accepted me. I had gotten a high enough score on the ACT that they would give me a scholarship, as well as the scholarship for being the child of a minister and missionary. There were a few strings - since I technically hadn't graduated from High School yet. I would have to finish 2 credit of my correspondence work during my first semester in order to get a diploma from that correspondence school and be fully accepted to college. I did it.
We packed up what would be my little Saturn, Floresta, and unpacked at the freshman dorms. Saying good-bye to mom and dad, grandma and grandpa - it's wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last...that didn't make it any easier. But I was excited. I was a college student.
My graduation from High School was in January of my second semester of college. I came home from class and my roommate met me at the door with a bath robe. She forced me to put it on, got out her High School graduation cap and let me inside - our suitemates were there with chocolate chip cookies and la-da-da-ing Pomp and Circumstance. They put the cap on me and handed me a rolled up piece of copy paper that they had made into a diploma with markers.
By the way, my roommate and suitemates? - all MKs (missionary kids).
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1 Peter (Keifa) 5:7 Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you.
Oh the joys of the college years - the time to get away from the "slavery" of household chores, parents and siblings. The time to study - or at least pretend like your studying - while in the meantime becoming an expert on you. The time to stay up as late as you want - who knows, maybe not even get to your bed before class the next morning, to eat what and when you want, to make friends, create relationships that have nothing to do with where you were from, who your parents or siblings are, but just focuses on you. The time to speak your mind - whether you really believe what you are saying or not. The time to be free.
How glorious - to bask in self-indulgence and revel in egocentricity.
Getting to college was my first hurdle. Since I had been studing via correspondence in Brazil, I was exactly on the same track as everyone else. During what was supposed to be my junior year of High School, I took an entrance exam to a private High School in S. FL. To my parent's absolute amazement (since I had not been the epitome of excellence during my High School years), I passed with flying colors. So, in everyone's understanding, I should be fine. I flew back to S. FL, spent the first few months between my 2 grandmother's houses, and started my senior year. It was so strange, to have to walk to classes, sit in a desk all day, wear a uniform - I was not used to this. In fact, I had to go to the doctor and get a back brace to wear for a few months because I couldn't stand being in a seat all day.
The rich kids didn't help anything. Later, I came to find out - it's not just that they were rich, they were just being Americans. I thought it was so weird that they would take food to school, maybe take one bite or sip and chunk it in the garbage can. Then they preceded to buy junk food for the rest of the day. Once, I stood up at my lunch table and screamed at all of them - "YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW SELFISH YOU ARE!!! AT MY HOUSE IN BRAZIL, PEOPLE COME BY TO ASK FOR OUR EMPTY 2-LITER BOTTLES AND THEN ASK US TO FILL THEM UP WITH OUR CLEAN WELL WATER FOR THEM TO TAKE HOME TO DRINK. AND YOU IDIOTS WASTE MONEY BUYING CRAP YOU DON'T EVEN EAT!!!" And then I stormed off. That was a breaking point for me - the point where I realized - I am not American, I am not Brazilian - I need to find myself. On the bright side, at least I was standing up for myself (different than my first year in school in Brazil when I was humiliated for not speaking Portuguese).
Now, don't get me wrong, there were a few people who were genuine and made me their friends, but they were few. The band became my home away from home since the choir wouldn't even take me because I hadn't been there the year before. The rest of the students resented me for getting into this private club of theirs - how dare I try to graduate with them when I hadn't paid the price of being there for at least the last 4 years. And guess what? I didn't graduate with them. Near the end of the year, we discovered that I didn't have enough credits by their standards to graduate. So, I wouldn't go to Europe on the Senior trip, I wouldn't walk down the aisle with them, I wouldn't receive a diploma.
Instead, I went to a 2-week music school in Nashville with my mom. It introduced me to the world of performance, songwriting and recording - what I wanted to do - what I WOULD DO.
There was still the college situation to look at. My parents would be going back to the amazon. I had to make a decision. We contacted a school in the heart of AR. We went to visit and I auditioned for the Dean of Music. To this day, I don't know why - but they accepted me. I had gotten a high enough score on the ACT that they would give me a scholarship, as well as the scholarship for being the child of a minister and missionary. There were a few strings - since I technically hadn't graduated from High School yet. I would have to finish 2 credit of my correspondence work during my first semester in order to get a diploma from that correspondence school and be fully accepted to college. I did it.
We packed up what would be my little Saturn, Floresta, and unpacked at the freshman dorms. Saying good-bye to mom and dad, grandma and grandpa - it's wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last...that didn't make it any easier. But I was excited. I was a college student.
My graduation from High School was in January of my second semester of college. I came home from class and my roommate met me at the door with a bath robe. She forced me to put it on, got out her High School graduation cap and let me inside - our suitemates were there with chocolate chip cookies and la-da-da-ing Pomp and Circumstance. They put the cap on me and handed me a rolled up piece of copy paper that they had made into a diploma with markers.
By the way, my roommate and suitemates? - all MKs (missionary kids).
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 Peter (Keifa) 5:7 Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you.
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