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eminperu · 6 years

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On the Value of Being Challenged: Defining my ideals through one million rhetorical questions (sorry)

“We’re afraid she’s not being challenged enough.” I think the first time this phrase was applied to me, an examiner pulled it out of a very standard toolbox for talking about kids like me, at a conference regarding my placement exam results for entrance into the gifted program. To be fair, it was also a sugar-coated explanation of why Mrs. Meyer couldn’t stand my arrogant first grade ass (in my defense, she refused to call on me in class anymore because I KNEW THE ANSWERS. Yeah, Mrs. Meyer, let’s not go to Applebee’s when we’re hungry BECAUSE THERE IS FOOD THERE). It’s also the justification I learned to rely on when I didn’t do stuff because I didn’t want to do stuff, like the time I tested out of Mrs. Whitsell’s math class because she played too much Enya and favored the boys, or got sent out into the hallway in fifth grade for working ahead in the book during the lesson (that was a terrible punishment, I finished my work in a cool ten and chatted with people passing by). Let me be clear, I know I’m not anything special—Berkeley made sure I knew that. But even though I’m no Cindy Crawford (guys, she studied chemical engineering at Northwestern with a reported IQ of 154, check your biases), being “smart” has been arguably the most central and defining characteristic I have. While I’m not sure I’ve always felt adequately academically “challenged” in all my pursuits, I’ve also never worried that I was not developing myself in some way. [Warning: I’m not going to try to be modest in this post. I’m trying to honestly reflect, so just deal with it.]

This week (and by this week I mean the week I started writing this post a month ago…eek), I’ve had two coworkers from my last school tell me about a few students who have said really nice things about how much they missed me. Both of the students are absolute rascals, the kind who really hated school until the year I had them in my class. I love those kids. I love knowing that I excel at forming relationships and reaching “behavior” kids. I remember when Jason finally got an 89% on one of my science tests last year and bought in. I remember how excited Deon would get to do a job for me (run a note that said “Mr. Fields please make Deon do something physical for the next eight minutes then send him back”) as a reward for sitting through a whole guided reading. I know I’m a good teacher. I use my creativity and my intelligence every second of every day, topped maybe only by empathy and ability to connect with people. For the last four years, I’ve also clung to the self-righteous smug cloud I get from saying I am a teacher in low-income schools. Teachers work hard, plus I get an element of altruism when I drop the zipcode of the schools I teach in. Apparently, “teacher” has burrowed its way into my identity in a pretty significant way. Is teaching my thing? Is helping people my thing?

I know work ethic isn’t my thing. I know that. I’ve never been one to happily do things for sake of doing them—generally speaking, I’m about the destination and the journey can go fuck itself (is it starting to become apparent what Mrs. Meyers was on about?). But I do like to do things that matter. And I do like for people to think I am smart and capable. Does that mean I need to be challenged to feel successful? Do I find intrinsic value in completing tasks that I deem worthy?

It seems fair to say I couldn’t really know if I valued being challenged until I felt I wasn’t anymore. Teaching used every single bit of my mental and emotional energy and drew on all of my skills (threw a lot of my weaknesses in my face as well, to be honest). Now, my VIP Kid lessons don’t even require me to view them before teaching them and, while I think bartending definitely draws on a a lot of my strengths, it also isn’t exactly a high cognitive workload. I find myself jumping to grasp those little moments—when my manager says I can do my job better than him, when my teaching boss jokes that my half-sarcastic corrections of him will either get me fired or promoted on my first day, when my 15-year-old tutee loses his shit over finding out that I went to Berkeley—this self-satisfaction at proving my intelligence to others seems a little new and a lot douchey.

Working from home rocks, but it also kind of sucks. I wake up, I teach online, then it’s 9 am and I have the rest of my day ahead of me. My fingers seem to automatically begin to take me to Netflix or Facebook after my grueling three hour workday. I enjoy watching Friends. I like laying out in the park. But why would I feel so much more accomplished if I had reorganized all my clothes? Or painted a picture? If I had completed a full day’s work (not just a few hours), I think I’d feel totally justified in not accomplishing anything “productive” afterwards. I didn’t anticipate that how I chose to spend this precious free time I dreamed about, talked about, moved 6,000 miles away for, would ever affect that drastically how I see myself. And let’s be clear that 6pm-on-a-Thursday-still-at-school-Emily would backhand me for even THINKING of complaining.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m pretty happy here. I have made a lot of friends and my time is 100% my own. With that, though, comes a lot of time to think. I want to make sure my time here is balanced and I leave feeling like I got something out of it. I got a couple in-person teaching jobs because, for fuck’s sake, I need to put on pants and leave the house before 7pm–also, they hand teaching jobs out like candy here if you look like you speak English. And I feel really satisfied after those lessons, although I’m teaching people with loads of money that want to use their English to make more money. However, I have to limit myself. I started working 10-11 hour days just because I could. I partially came here to write, and I did a whole lot more of that in Europe than I seem to be getting done here. I also applied for a really simple writing job and didn’t get it, which sucked. There could have been a million reasons why, but I had to submit a short writing sample so I’m guessing I’ve subconsciously swallowed this pass as a failure and am letting it sit heavy in my stomach (and confidence). I’ve started a book, but I also found that any grant applications I can submit won’t be due for quite a while (and would commence the following year). I’m scared I don’t have the self-motivation to pursue the things I love with the vigor they require. I could see myself easily falling into a pretty content life of teach, nap, cook, bartend, repeat. Is that enough? Before this year, I would have said yes. Here I am in this bratty millennial dilemma: wanting to be recognized for being exceptional; but lounging in the comfort of not putting myself out there for something I’m sure someone smarter/more diligent will get. Another factor at play: if I were able to live this lifestyle in San Francisco around all my best friends and the all-around greatest people in the world, I may feel differently. I’ve always thought that relationship-based—not not achievement-based success—appealed to me. As long as the people I love are happy and involved in my life, I’m happy. Of course, I say say that while also having always pretty much achieved things in a linear, predictable, and temporally-appropriate manner.

The flip side of this is that it’s kind of cool to be working just for money now. Before, I was teaching and the factor stopping me from blowing all my money was being too tired, not not having it. I saved a bit, and it really wasn’t a concern, priority, or consideration (especially not when deciding what line of work to go into, obviously). Now, I measure how many activities I should do based on what I made that day. “Nah, I don’t wanna buy those jeans, that’s three VIP KID classes!”

Basically, in summary, I take issue with the phrase “Find your passion and you’ll never work a day in your life.” My last job was fulfilling beyond measure, but it necessitated that I work my ASS OFF each and every day. I think I may have placed myself in a paradox—doing what I love makes it so I can’t enjoy my life, but if I don’t do it I won’t feel fulfilled.

This is dumb. I came here to bartend, be a barista, sherpa some alpacas, sleep in and workout. Fuck feeling fulfilled, right? Ugh, what’s that whole thing with the grass being green, again? Anyway, back to Neflix.

Goals: CARVE OUT MY WRITING TIME AND HOLD MYSELF TO IT. Make a plan for what will make me feel productive during my week at home. Keep eating healthy and working out (I have made time for that, and that feels good).

Updates: My friend Feras visited and I finally go to travel around Peru! Cusco was absolutely beautiful, a quaint history-rich town splayed up and down the Andes mountains. The architecture, the air, the size—it was a welcome break from Lima. I was also taking on A LOT of classes and shifts at the bar, so it was similarly a welcome break from working. Machu Picchu was absolutely incredible as was our dinner at Maido; I’ll post about those soon.

I’m headed back to Kansas for about three weeks to see my (whole!!) family and I’m so excited. I think the reset will be really nice. I’m going to hold myself accountable to reflecting on my experience so far and channeling that into a productive life plan for the next few months (even if that plan means staying largely unproductive).

#On the Value of Being Challenged: Defining my ideals through one million rhetorical questions (sorry) “We’re afraid she’s not being challeng

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