A Modest College Proposal

It is a melancholy object to those who walk through this great school or travel in Troy, when they see the hallways, the classrooms, and group chats, crowded with college hopefuls of the adolescent age, followed by their 20-pound backpacks, all with a face of physical exhaustion and stress. These students instead of being able to easily get into their dream college, are forced to employ all their time in stressing about news reports of record breaking application pools and decreasing admission rates.

I think it is agreed by all parties that this prodigious number of students in schizophrenia is in the present deplorable state of the Troy School District; and, therefore, whoever could find out a more efficient method to guarantee college admissions would deserve so well of the Troy community as to have his or her statue set up for a preserver of the students’ mental and physical life.

I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.

I have been assured by very knowledgeable students from HYPSM, that College Confidential is the source of guidance for aspiring high school students. It is filled with the most accurate, inspiring, invaluable, and candid advice; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve well for babies, middle and high school students.

I do therefore humbly offer it to public consideration that of the 2,000 students at Troy High, ~99% face extensive levels of stress to get into the college of their dreams; however, only a fraction will achieve their goals. With the use of College Confidential’s advice, Troy High could maximize the number of students reaching the perfect college with extensive scholarship money to pay for the outrageous prices to attend a university. The current average student debt after graduating an undergraduate institution is $30,100. With the extensive guidance from the website, that number can surely be reduced to zero by receiving scholarships and grant money.

As prescribed by many students from the College Confidential website, to get into HYPSM or any top college a student must do the following:

1. Get perfect SAT or ACT scores
2. Be rank #1 by having a 4.0 unweighted GPA and the highest possible weighted GPA (near 5.0 if possible)
3. Take 20+ AP classes
4. Do as many clubs as possible and get leadership positions
5. Become internationally famous by winning prestigious competitions
6. Become a nationally or internationally ranked athlete or musician

Most importantly, College Confidential states the following:

1. Do not waste time sleeping, eating, drinking or relaxing
2. Become a robot with no real passion and emotions
3. Be superficial in nature
4. Believe that getting into college is the most important task in life

Advice like this will guarantee any student admission to their top college desires and reduce their stress levels significantly. Many other advantages might be enumerated. For example, the success of all students will increase school recognition; which will directly lead to increase in federal funding to improve the quality of the school. No longer will there be budget cuts that force teachers to spend money out of their pocketbook instead of helping sustain their own lives; the ~10-year-old textbooks will be replaced with the newest ones on the market to guarantee student success; and most importantly, students will be given more opportunities to allow them to realize their full potential.

I profess, in the sincerity of my heart, that I have not the least personal interest in endeavoring to promote this necessary use of College Confidential, having no other motive than the students’ good of my city, by advancing Troy High, relieving the financial strain on teachers, and providing for adolescents. I am already far too old by which I can benefit from the website.

*HYPSM = Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Stanford, MIT (College Confidential terminology) 

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I decided to post this because someone asked me on Thursday, “how’s your road to HYPSM going?” I was immediately taken aback—as if my existence depended only on my academic success to get to a top college. In all seriousness’s sake, do not go near College Confidential. The part about knowledgeable students is completely made-up; they in fact state the opposite: never go on that website. It is filled with wrong advice and is too focused on simply getting into college. You will become so obsessed with reading peoples’ perfect resume—which does not mean anything in the long run. Pave your own path and remember that it is just high school (HAVE FUN)! Your self-worth and chance for success in the real world is not dependent on what college you can go to. 

However, Chick-Fil-A is actually good for you compared to College Confidential

Consider Death

I doubt this is normal but sometimes I cannot sleep at night because I think about death. Last year I remember trying to fall asleep but not possessing the ability to do so. The only way I find myself to avoid thinking about it is by taking a ton of AP classes. My mind will be so focused on my school work that I do not have time to wonder what death is and what it means. Sometimes during the summer I would just randomly wake up and think about it. Clearly, death presents itself in an elusive manner: it is so commonplace yet so mysterious. Medically speaking, death does not even have a clear definition. Does living off machines—becoming a vegetable—count as death? When the skin and blood are still warm but all circulatory and respiratory functions cease does that count as death? Or is it only when the entire brain, including the brain stem, no longer functions does it count as death?

Forget the medical jargon, death means a loss of our consciousness, memories—all characteristics that make us who we are. I am always left to wonder what it feels like to be dead. If we really lose consciousness, then what happens? Not to mention, in a couple hundred years no one will even remember us. Our existence will simply be recorded by the US government along with everyone else’s death. This inevitable fate is so close but so far away. We delude ourselves into not thinking about it, but death will inevitably creep up on us. Despite the belief that medicine will become advanced to provide immortality, if you simply think about it logically it cannot happen. The world is already filled with billions of people. Death is the only natural phenomena that keeps population in check. The US government is already facing huge issues to provide for the elderly. What makes you think that they want to keep a population that, economically speaking, has no value (unless you are some genius). Alas, death will come—be it tomorrow, next year, or 80 years later.

Humans take refuge in ignorance which allows us to waste their days on Earth. Rather than reaching some existential existence, we fashion ourselves a veil of obliviousness. Instead of valuing a simple drink of water, we take it for granted. Instead of cherishing our time with each other, we find ourselves trying to push people away. For instance, if you were to walk around Troy High and ask people about their parents, they would probably talk about how restrictive they are. Then, ask returning graduates who are at college about their parents. They will tell you about how much they value their parents. People need to wake up already! Death will come. We will all die one day. However, this should not stop us from considering all aspects of life. Away with the obsession with “lobster rolls, lobster turnovers, lobster…” and in with our morality and consciousness (Wallace 655).

These questions will stir-up a lot of debate. Some of you may even think I am crazy. However, this does not stop the power of death. I cannot concede to having found my existential existence. If I were to die today, I would pity myself in that I have wasted 16 years of my life doing nothing. However, for many people this may be wasting 50-60 years of their life. Our society has this firm belief that we will all reach the life expectancy of 80 years—this is not the case for many people. If you died now, would you be proud of what you accomplished? Instead of waiting many years later to do something practical and worthwhile with our lives, we need to start now. Once we reach our imminent death, we will not have to worry about a possible afterlife. 

The Strongest Form of Love

*I based this post off Arm Wrestling with My Father*

Our interactions were rudimentary. The truth is, my parents have never said they loved me or kissed me goodnight because these actions are not in their nature. Never. I think the closest they have ever come to saying something like that was when my physician had to go through a series of questions about my mental health. He asked my parents about me and I guess it led to some forced statement about how they were proud of me—that they cared for me. Our communication was and still is very minimal—even more so with my Dad than my Mom. But with the few interactions I have per day I could feel how hard it was for them to communicate, to help me, to show the love they had for me, the love that I know is there.

My parents are atypical. They are not the expected “Asian parents” who berate me to achieve high academic success. They never check my report cards. When I ask them why they tell me that they already know that I aim for As. They never forced me to go to Chinese school, to take piano lessons, violin lessons, math courses, etc. In elementary school, they only went to one of my orchestra performances and one of my band performances in middle school (I went from orchestra to band to realizing I had no interest in music—making it my own decision to quit completely). They never forced me to take the number of AP classes I am taking. They never understood my neuroticism—my need to achieve the highest on ever exam, test, quiz, assignment I do. Furthermore, compared to “typical” parents in general, they are the complete opposite. They never attend any competitions I have. They are not the eager parents signing up to volunteer. To many it may seem cold; but to me, I know it is how they are.

Every day when I come home from school, Mom always greets me warmly and offers fresh fruit. Something so fundamental—food—but not guaranteed. Mom always tells me about living during the era after the Great Famine. Mom would vividly describe how so many people died and how people were forced to eat dirt and bark from trees to subsist the pangs of hunger. Exotic fruits—mangos, kiwi, things we take for granted—were unheard of during her time. Her notion of love was providing me the variety of foods she never had. Furthermore, she shows her love through her unwavering bravery. One time we were at a hotel swimming pool where they had lap lanes. Naturally people would be kind and adjust to circle swimming to accommodate more people. However, when we entered the lanes, an old white man in his fifties began screaming at us. I strictly remember him saying: DO YOU EVEN SPEAK ENGLISH? I wanted to leave immediately, but my mom forced us to stand our ground. She did not want to concede to racism. Eventually the man left, and my mom stood victorious. Mom’s strong willed character and compassion are her forms of love. I would not give this up for another parent to simply say “I love you.”

During the late 1960s and early 1970s, Mao Zedong declared that one “privileged” youth per urban family had to be sent to farming villages to become a worker/farmer. My Dad decided to go—in effect, he was forfeiting his chances of ever going to a university. However, Dad has—and will always have—a strong conviction to achieve against all odds. Even though he did not receive a formal education, he taught himself. He became an autodidact. Instead of receiving formal preparation for the Gaokao—the National Chinese Entrance Exam that is administered only once per year and decides your future—Dad had to learn everything on his own. This spanned from Karl Marx’s communist principles to chemistry and physics. He knew that if he failed the exam, he would be stuck as a farmer for the rest of his life. When the results came back, he had nearly scored a perfect in math and sciences. His lowest score was in the communist principles—I think—and he did not even have a textbook to study for that part. He  even scored considerably higher than his brothers and sisters who stayed in the city and received an education. Dad’s desire to succeed led him to receive his Ph.D., a feat that shocked his family. Today, he occasionally asks if I need help. He was always there to answer any questions I had on my calculus homework. His hard work to provide a steady income represents his love for me. It is with the money that he earns that he can give me the strongest power humans can possess: an education. His assurance he gives me that he will be able to pay for my education, no matter how far I reach, will always be there is the epitome of love. I do not need someone to attend my competitions. I do not need someone who simply tells me “I love you.” I need my Dad because he is willing to sacrifice everything to give me the opportunities I have today.

As every day goes on, I want to tell my parents I love them. I want to tell them how happy I am. Or maybe, rather than any of this, I will find a unique way to express my love to them.

A Hidden Secret

Multiple Sclerosis: a disease in which the immune system eats away at the protective covering of nerves

I was watching a Buzzfeed video (yes, I know I should not become addicted to these videos) and there was an ad playing about multiple sclerosis. I normally just try to skip the ad as fast as possible because I want to watch the video. However, after further thought, this action—adopted by almost everyone—is a signal of our rejection of viewing chronic illnesses. We are not interested in learning about a disease that many people around the world suffer. Yet, the commercials are also at fault. If you look below, the images show happy, active people who look perfectly “normal.” It is as if this magical medication was able to cure their illness and keep their nervous system intact. Not to mention, the last photo states, “real people, real stories.” If the ad is truly a demonstration of people who suffer from multiple sclerosis, why do none of people have a slight motor disability? Sure, a drug can slow down the progression of the disease and alleviate a few symptoms, but the people would still have some issues—including the side effects the lady on the picture seems happy about.

People who are initially diagnosed with this degenerative disease are told the same facts: there are no cures, there are only treatments to help alleviate symptoms, you will end up in a wheelchair, and you will live until your imminent death. Not only do these people come to the salient realization that their future will not be what they imagined, but they also have to deal with the physical and emotional abuse society throws towards them. Scathing remarks—cripple—are precariously used to describe people with disabilities, causing a feeling of inadequacy; they compare themselves and see only the ideal body types being displayed. While “normal” people may have surgery done to enhance their appearances, disabled people cannot escape it. They cannot hide from society and mask who they are: they are thrown into a society that neglects the need for accessible facilities. Take Troy High School for example. The hallways are far too crowded to give students on wheelchairs space to maneuver; the defunct elevator moves at a snail’s pace, almost suggesting that getting to the students’ destination in a timely manner is not important; the classrooms have tables that are too high to reach.

Furthermore, this daily struggle is not simply faced during their childhood—it is a continuous cycle that they must face. I recently watched What Would You Do? and how deaf discrimination pays a roll in job employment. The show set up a scenario where a manager openly said that he would not accept the deaf girl’s application. As with most episodes, there are always many Samaritans who object the injustice presented. However, only one man brought himself to go against the manager’s judgement, stating that rejecting an application based on a disability is outright discriminatory. Not to mention, there were several human resource workers who not only supported the manager’s decision, but also gave him advice on how to handle the situation better: accept the application but write a note reminding yourself that the applicant is “unfit.”

Our society is not just unaccustomed to seeing disabled people, but it believes that these people are not inherently equal to everyone else. As Mairs states, “for the disable person, these include self-degradation and a subtle kind of self-alienation not unlike that experience by other minorities” (14). Although many people with disabilities are able to come to terms with their body, many still struggle with internal hatred: the belief that they are not as valuable and are the rejects of society.

Even though I do not have a disability, I suffer from a chronic disease that I still have not completely come to terms with. Not even my closest friends know what I suffer through. Compared to people with a disability, I am given the luxury of hiding my secret from the world. I remember when I first showed symptoms and was diagnosed I always asked, “Why me?” From then on, I have always hidden it away from society. Although it is an extremely common illness, I still cannot find the strength to tell anyone the specifics except for my family. I worry that people’s image of me will transition from the diligent junior to the junior with the disease. It has irrevocably changed me mentally and physically. Even to this day I wonder what my life would be like without having to deal with it. I have experienced the searing glances people give that make you feel less of a person; I have seen the ads displaying the perfect people “suffering” from my disease. I have felt like certain things are inaccessible to me; I have felt the internal torment of badly wanting a new life. Despite my reservations about telling people, I have learned to appreciate who I am. That statement may sound paradoxical, but there is a difference between revealing something to the world and understanding who you are. In the future, I hope that I become as brave as people who suffer from disabilities—to not care about what other people think of me. 

FOMO (Fear of Missing Out)

“No. Travis, you stay right here. And you make him understand what you doing, Walter Lee. You teach him good. Like Willy Harris taught you. You show where our five generations done come to” (Hansberry 147).

Family values transcend through each generation. Mama’s five generations believed in fighting for one’s family, trying to stay as a homogenous family unit. When Walter tries to sell the house to Mr. Lindner, he is metaphorically exchanging all the morals he has been taught for money. In effect, he will be empty inside, consumed by the societal ideal to achieve a higher socioeconomic status in life. However, Mama allows Travis to stay and “grin innocently” (Hansberry 147). Although Walter has already lost his innocence, he cannot take himself to destroy Travis’s innocence; he does not want Travis to see him trade his morals for money and see his black culture be subservient to the white race. As Travis looks up to Walter for guidance, Walter does not want him to feel trapped in a society filled with racial divisions. Instead, Walter’s decision acts as a model for Travis to stand up for his beliefs, fighting injustice and not giving in.

Loss of generational values is seen even in our 11 AP class. Our parents all went to school without advanced smartphones to text in class, snapchat, tweet, etc. Talking face-to-face and hanging out with friends is now being replaced with hours spent trying to take the perfect selfie or video to upload on one’s snap story. Despite regulations put in place to limit cellphone use, our generation has the audacity to continue using our phones constantly in class, having our eyes glued to our tiny screens. In a way, we have all adopted FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). This fear of regret—loss of social interaction—permeates through our minds; we adopt this obsession to know exactly what is going on in society at every moment. One ring from our phones makes everyone in class wonder if they received a notification, turning our attention to our phones. Now I am not saying that I am the perfect person. I waste copious amounts of time just refreshing Facebook to see if anyone posted something new. Snapchat almost trapped me into a cycle of destruction this summer: trying to maintain Snapchat streaks.

 

This is me trying to keep my Snapchat streaks

However, we must return to our past generation’s values; we must take the conscientious effort to ignore our phones when they get a new notification; we must limit our social media usage; we must concentrate what is in front of us; we must respect others. Travis reminds Walter of the 5 generations of family values just as Val should remind us of our past generation’s values. Is it worth it to check our phone or should we focus on our education? (however, I am left to wonder how students from last year got so many photos of Val for their memes)

A Dream Deferred

It was 1998, just four years after my parents immigrated to the US; they were hoping to achieve that American Dream—a stable life having the ability to do what they wanted. I was not born until 2000, but my parents and two older sisters lived comfortably in Raleigh, North Carolina. It was at that time when my mom’s dream was deferred.

My mom tells me the story like it was yesterday. An old man was selling his gas station because he wanted to retire and move to Florida with his family. Finding out about this one in a lifetime opportunity, my mom instantly wanted to invest. The best part about the deal was that the owner did not even expect a down payment. He told her that “the profits you make minus your living expenses can be paid to me until you eventually pay it off.” This was the ultimate deal. Showing interest in leadership as a child, my mom saw this as the perfect opportunity to exercise her freedom that was not given to her in China. She would no longer have to be told by her teachers that women cannot take leadership positions. She would challenge the patriarchy that runs our society. She could enhance our family’s life in America and achieve her lifelong dream. 

Despite the perfect offer, my dad had reservations about this. What if we ended up losing money? What if we could never pay the man back? What if…? It posed too big of a risk, and my dad was not willing to take it. After experiencing the poverty that plagued China at that time, my dad could not imagine ending up on the streets of America, begging for money. He, on the other hand, wanted to make a stable income from his job and save money for our college tuitions gradually, avoiding any major risks as possible. With that, my mom’s dream was deferred.

My parents will never forget the 1960s.

Now, almost 19 years past, my mom’s dream is starting to “dry up like a raisin in the sun…[and] sag like a heavy load.” After that offer, my mom was never given another opportunity. Her main focus from then on was to give me and my sisters the best education possible—to provide for us what she was never able to achieve. I think this is what motivates me and my sisters. My mom could have easily spent the thousands of dollars our parents are spending on us to go to college. Not only are they willing to pay for our undergraduate education, but they are also willing to take loans out if we need them. My mom’s dream did not have to be deferred because my dad would not have to worry about providing for us. How could we possibly complain about how challenging our lives are when my mom gave up the only dream she had? How could we hate school when my mom’s dream was deferred to pay for it?

My mom’s altruism made her dream change into seeing us succeed in the future. However, deep down, I know that she still wants to start her own business. And one day when I receive my first paycheck, I will defer my dreams, like my mom did 19 years ago, so she can fulfill hers before I care about my own.

Someday I will return the sacrifices my parents made.

  

Borne Back Ceaselessly Into the Past

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” (180).

This passage concludes the novel in the most profound way. Gatsby is no longer the only one chasing an unachievable dream; instead, “we” all will try to run towards our goals. Our whole lives are built around trying to achieve meaning in society. Although many people try and ignore this fact, we will all eventually die. Everything that we have worked so hard to achieve will lead us to become another statistic; our lives will simply be noted on a death certificate; all of our memories will vanish to nonexistence. This almost reminds me of my AP Environmental project I did last week. We were counting the number of people who died within certain age groups, not even taking note of the person’s name. All those people on the list who probably wanted to reach something in life were turned only into one line on a page:

Name, Date of Birth, Date of Death.

Gatsby’s whole life was defined by his hope to recreate the past—to go back five years and marry Daisy. The more he worked to achieve his goal, the more it moved farther away from him. Using an ellipsis, Fitzgerald highlights the long, dragged out cycle in our lives, only to achieve nothing. This repetitive life that we choose to chase a dream that—in reality—is not even possible to achieve. The American Dream that is the epitome of America’s history is only to be an illusion. Something so well know, but so abstract.

This passage also reminded me of a poem by Langston Hughes:

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

I would argue that Gatsby’s dream goes through the same process of decay that African American dreams go through, as described in the poem. Although Gatsby continues to believe that his dream is possible, it actually becomes the explosion that kills him. The “East…that distorted beyond my eyes’ power of correction” makes the American Dream impossible; the corruption and dirt infiltrates Gatsby’s dream. How can Gatsby’s dream be fulfilled in such an unyielding earth?

Another unachievable dream: Watching The Great Gatsby in class J