Waterfalls

I don’t think most people realize this, but I’m rather terrified of most of the things I do.

I’m terrified before every single test I take, including silly weekly quizzes. In high school I would frantically study for my ART tests! I shake whenever I have to speak in public, and I often put off calling people on the phone. I don’t know why I’m scared o f these things. It’s not as if I’m particularly anxious or shy. But I am very familiar with that deep seated dread that clings to my stomach whenever I’m put in these situations.

However, it never stops me.

Perhaps I’m an adrenaline junkie. Perhaps I’m just stubborn. In any case, I have found that there is something incredibly liberating about forcing yourself to face your fears.

It’s like jumping off a waterfall (which I have done.) You stand at the ledge, with all of this rushing water roaring in your ears. Inevitably you have some pushy friend behind you, watching your every move. You want to chicken out. You want to back away slowly until you reach the safe and dry bank. Instead, you stand there, shivering in your bathing suit, too stubborn to back down and too frightened to move forward. You count to three- one… two… three… And you don’t jump. You close your eyes and hold your breath. You don’t jump. Maybe the friend who jumped before you is calling up to you, telling you that it’s safe, it’s fun. Maybe you’re the first one to try, simply because you want to be the “brave one.” Posturing is pretty meaningless when you’re terrified. Finally, after a few minutes of this endless back and forth, you stop thinking.

You jump.

There was no actual preparation. You didn’t end up counting, nor did you actually coax yourself into the air. It’s much too sudden of a decision, if there ever was a choice.

That’s the thing. There really isn’t a choice.

You had a choice when you tested depth of the water below. You had a choice when you waded out to the rocks. You had a choice the moment you stood there, looking out into the air. But that moment of flying, that second you let yourself believe that you will land safely into deep water- that is no choice.

It’s trust.

So many things are like that in my life. It’s as if I am approaching a vertical asymptote with a jump, infinitely increasing as I creep closer to the edge. Then suddenly, after infinity, I blink and find myself on the other side.

It’s exhilarating. You should try it. Terrified of singing in public? Muster up your courage and march up to that microphone for karaoke. Sing loudly and off key. Forget shame. It has no place in your life anyway. What did shame ever help you achieve?

Or say you’re a young girl, facing a terrifying math or science class. So many girls are scared of trying for fear of looking stupid, as if the world will end if they look the least bit silly. Here’s a news flash: You are never going to have all of the answers. You are going to ask stupid questions. Yes, there is such a thing as a stupid question. And it is still infinitely better than not asking any question at all.  Someone out there wishes they had the courage to ask that question, but never do for fear of looking foolish.

You are going to fail. Everyone does. It’s a part of life. You are going to work really hard for something and still mess up. You are going to dream and dream and still be rejected. BUT IT IS OKAY.

I have personally failed tons of times.  I just took my Real Analysis midterm and I’m pretty sure I didn’t do very well. But I know I learned something. I showed up and took the test. I tried my hardest. I’ll get my grade back and I will figure out how to do better next time. It is not going to stop me. It is not going to discourage me. If anything, I am only more determined to do well and understand this subject. I also got my grade back for my Theory test, and my professor commented on how good my work on the exam and homework has been. See? I succeed as well!

Like my dad always says, “There is always going to be someone smarter than you, but there will also always be someone less smart than you.” You are not the bottom or the top of the pyramid. You are someone with worthwhile dreams and goals, and you have no need to compare yourself to others.

So go ahead and be afraid. Relish in the terror that comes with challenging yourself. Face it head on and say, “Yes, I am scared. I am worried that I will fail.” Do it anyway. It won’t be the end of the world if you fail. Take a challenging class. Allow yourself to hope and dream. Plan to achieve crazy goals. Stretch yourself past your comfort zone. Stand on that edge, breathe, blink, and the next thing you know you’ll be flying and cannonballing into the cool, deep water below.

The path to greatness!

Today someone suggested that I explain how I ended up studying math and science after such a discouraging start.

The truth is I’m not entirely sure.

I owe a great deal to my parents. One of my biggest technical issues with math was my lack of organization. Since I’m left handed, I had a tendency to line up all of my numbers to the left margin. I also had pretty poor handwriting, so my fours and nines looked exactly the same. I couldn’t even tell the difference. Dear Mom and Dad noticed this and had me tutored in fourth grade by the lovely Mrs. C.

Most of the hour was spent on distinguishing my handwriting.

And forcing me to budge everything over to the right margin.

Eventually, I developed better habits. I learned to stop trying to cram all of my work onto one sheet of paper (I used to try to fit over 20 problems on one side of the page) and I learned to pay attention to detail. It was more than just a lesson in handwriting and organization, however. It was a lesson in accountability and communication. I was forced to realize that math (and all of my other schoolwork) was not just for me. Solving a problem meant nothing if I couldn’t communicate my answer.

And isn’t THAT a mind-blowing realization? Math and science are nothing more than the logical organization of ideas in a globally understood format. Great discoveries and calculations mean nothing if you can’t explain them to anyone!

But back to how I ended up in math and physics.

After I was whipped into academic shape, I was fairly indifferent to math and science. I still had the occasional difficulty and neither subject really fascinated me. I tried to participate in math field day, but whenever I went to practice, the teacher would spend the entire time catering to the boys who already knew how to do everything. No one ever really took the time to teach me those helpful extra bits.

Like permutations. I had no idea what a permutation was until I studied for the SAT Math II subject test. No one had ever mentioned it to me.

All of this changed in 10th grade when I began Algebra II. I was already in the accelerated math group, but that was more due to my competitiveness than my actual love of math. But I hadn’t had Ms. B yet.

I had already known Ms. B for a couple years by 10th grade. She had coached the junior high school girls’ track team and was the reason I became a long distance runner. In fact, Ms. B was probably one of my biggest inspirations during those awful adolescent  years. I remember the first practice in 7th grade, when we had to pick which event we wanted to try. I was quite stubborn and insisted on trying out for shot put. Keep in mind that I was a head shorter than everyone else and toothpick thin.

It was rather comical now that I look back on it.

But Ms. B didn’t discourage me. Instead, she took one look at me and told me that I should run long distance. After a few trying shot put practices, I agreed. She put me in the 3200 meter (2 mile) event for the next race. I came in dead last with a time of almost 19 minutes.

In the next race I shaved off my time to 13:52 min.

So it was this woman that taught me Algebra II. Just like in track, she expected a great deal out of me. And just like with the 3200 m, I wanted to prove her right. It was hard work- she had high expectations and refused to relax them- but it was worth it. By the end of the year, I not only had a greater appreciation for math, but a greater belief in my abilities as a mathematician.

Because she believed in me.

So how did I end up in math and physics? There are a lot of reasons. I could go through and list each little exposure and fascination I have come across throughout my life. But in the end, we don’t try to accomplish the hard stuff just because we think it looks interesting. We push ourselves to our limits and stretch our boundaries because someone, somewhere, believed we could.

Be it a teacher, a parent, a friend, or ourselves.