My Confession, Part Two

I can't remember when exactly, but I think it was around sixth grade. That was when I decided that "Rock Star" was a better answer to The Question than "Cow." Coincidentally, that was when my grades started to slip. Until this time, I was one of the top five smarty-pants kids in a class of 30. At grade six, age 11, I began to spend less time doing homework and more time staring into space, listening to the stereo. At first it was quite embarassing. I was used to being a good student, and therefore I had trouble admitting to the teacher that I had not done my work. It would take years to develop the confidence necessary to look an authority figure straight in the eye and explain that their assignments meant absolutely nothing to me. Shortly after that I so mastered my contempt for the educational system that I was able to deflect the querries of scholastic authorities without even acknowledging their physical presence. As a senior in English class my teacher asked me, in front of everybody, "Do you even care if you graduate?"

Indeed, she had the power to ask this question. If I did not receive a passing grade from her, I would certainly not graduate. For me to reply 'No, I don't care,' would have been a challenge and would have acknowledged her power and revealed my weakness. And so I said in reply to her question, "That would be nice."

I was reading something at the time. I did not look up. She did not reply. Class went on as normal and I graduated in June. One day shortly before graduating, however, I made a little goal. For this particular term, I had managed to enroll in as many classes as possible that allowed me to do more or less as I pleased, which typically did not involve sitting in a chair in a row of other students. I was quite pleased with the order of things. While I was not particularly fond of school, I certainly did not hate it. I had come to see it as a big game that everybody had to participate in, but you didn't necessarily have to take it seriously. On this particular day, I was walking around the campus during classes, and so it was quiet. I passed by the Career Center, or College Center, or whatever it was called, and I noticed something that said "Stanford" on it. "Now that would be funny," I thought to myself, "if I went to Stanford...I think...I will go to Stanford."

To this day it shocks me how casually I made that decision.

to be continued...