Ramblings Regarding Passion

If Hockaday graduates ran the nation, we would be unstoppable.

Or doomed to total demolition.

I know none of you were worried, but Bayla and I eased beautifully back into our usual routine of spending an inordinate amount of time with one another, mild bickering, soul-searching-what-we-think-is-deep-but-is-probably-just-residue-teen-angst conversations, obsession over art, dance, and passion, and incessant giggle fits (often over nothing.) Sorry if I made you vomit from that verbal Hallmark card I just poured on you guys, but I missed my best friend. It happens. I dearly love my friends in Memphis (and absolutely see potential for similar relationships), but there is always something about the comfort of an old friend. They know you in a way that no one else could—and Bay and I went through oodles and oodles of nonsense together. Anyway, last night we were just chatting and gabbing about nonsense (Obama v. Hilary, vice presidency, etc) and ended up (somewhat unnaturally—since somehow the presence of college has evaporated from our friendship) talking about frustrations with school. I talked to an old friend on AIM yesterday (a really random occurrence since we hadn’t spoken since high school graduation) and she told me she hated her school. Full on loathed it. And I asked her if she was staying and she said yes because of scholarship money and networking opportunities. She complained just as much as (if not more) than everyone else at Hockaday about the obscene expectations of being a daisy, rigorous academics, and absurd competition. But yesterday she admitted that she absolutely missed the Hockaday teachers and students—crazy though they may be.

I doubt any of us would ever go back. I legitimately feel nauseous thinking about donning the green and white plaid, saddle oxfords, and sticky blazer—preparing for another terrifying routine of oh-how-did-I-screw-up-today? But at the same time, hindsight’s 20/20. I have been completely lucky and blessed at Rhodes professor-wise. Generally speaking, I’ve had more wonderful professors than not, and the ones that I love, I adore. However, something I have learned as of late is:

The world is not full of Hockadaisies. The students and companions I had at Hockaday were people I can’t find anywhere else. I could probably find people who individually possessed traits similar to my classmates, but I doubt I will ever be with the whole package: heiresses to a million huge corporations and businesses, girls who put on full scale productions and dance shows, the same number of driven athletes, internationally recognized models, junior Olympians, etc.

And this is probably a good thing.

By the same token, we were absolutely spoiled. Hockaday is social Darwinism. The weak are weeded out by high school, and any kids who come in ninth grade better figure out fast whether they’ll make it or not (and they do.) When Beth (Wortley) and I were discussing this at breakfast, she noted that not all hockaday girls were geniuses who worked hard, but then quickly retracted that statement with “Then again, compared to the rest of the world even the ‘slackers’ are pretty brilliant.” And it’s totally true.

This is by no means a knock against Rhodes. Rhodes professors have been some of the most intelligent people I’ve ever encountered. And there are SO many people at Rhodes smarter than I am. And there are plenty of people with far more talent in every imaginable arena.

What I haven’t found is the same surplus of is drive and ambition. At Hockaday, you survive on hope. You make good grades in middle school and find an extracurricular you are passionate about and can thrive in. You take SAT prep. You start high school. You fall flat on your face but you pick yourself up and you sure as heck better know who you are fast. Find your identity. Then start selling that identity to colleges. Get ready for college and network while you can. Go to college. Make connections. Get internships. Get ready for grad school. Go to grad school to get a job. Get a job to make money and work your way up in whatever field you (essentially) chose or discovered in middle school.

This, naturally, is hyperbole. (Isn’t everything here?) But put bluntly, that’s how we’re crafted. We’re crafted to speak eloquently, speak our minds, know exactly what we think about everything (meanwhile remaining more or less open minded) and above all, TAKE EVERY OPPORTUNITY YOU ARE GIVEN.

At Rhodes, I jumped into everything head on—expecting the same amount of competition and struggle to succeed in extracurriculars. I found that—contrary to Hockaday where very tiny thing is a struggle—they were happy to load on responsibility and power to those who truly yearned for it. Unfortunately, this left me with about five hundred activities and no time.

In these activities, I found much frustration. CODA was one of the most delightful things about Rhodes, but many of the kids underappreciated the program. This was completely infuriating. Not only were we given a scholarship for mere passion and a measly 10 hours a week of arts activity, but also we were given trips (where we networked and met millions of fantastic arts folk) and weekly workshops about arts advocacy and administration. I became so frustrated and discouraged by my companions who complained about weekly blog entries (let’s be honest: I love the blog) and “required trips” to Chicago that I got bogged down and less excited about the program in general. Can these people be built up to work hard and find that ambition and drive? Or should the program just have different people all together?

In my a cappella group, we spent hours upon hours working on SEVENTEEN different songs that all ended up sounding pathetic and miserable. Was it because we weren’t talented? I doubt it. Individually, we were all pretty strong singers. It’s because it wasn’t run effectively so no one cared.

In student government, my committee leader made no effort to genuinely seem passionate about anything we were doing. Why would we work hard and enthusiastically if they didn’t give us reason to?

Everything is treated as a burden or required task. Why can’t they appreciate these things as opportunities? EVERYTHING is an opportunity! Everything is an experience!

When I told the kids at Hockaday that I was going to take on a full scale musical and spend every waking hour pouring my life into it, I was thanked and lauded for that experience that I was “giving” to them. I largely cast underclassmen who hadn’t had leads before and then had the opportunity to take on something a bit bigger. We ended up having 40 kids in cast and crew (after having 60+ audition.) I found two remarkably talented individuals at Rhodes (both involved with the music department and potential music majors) who I would love to put in a show together. The guy’s favorite musical was The Last Five Years (a show I directed in my junior year of high school) and the girl recently became acquainted (and enamoured) with it. I told them I’d love nothing more than to direct them. While both of them were enthusiastic, neither of them were ever willing to start a rehearsal time. They complained that they were involved in too much (2 activities each.)

You make time for the things you love. It’s like working out. You go when you can. You make time. If it’s important to you, you’ll wake up an hour earlier and start your day off right. If you want to be in a show and you are already going mad, you drop something else or you learn to manage time differently.

I have to work now, but I’ll continue this post later!