Maia’s Musings: Characterized by Curiousity
You know how most people have a dream job, practical and monetary motivations aside? I have spent my whole life trying to figure out what that dream job is for me, because most ideas the float around in my head do not have much permanence or resonance. There have been a few dream jobs I have had. A librarian, for example, is something that I have always wanted to be secretly (this might still happen, so stay tuned). I think that working in a museum would be beyond cool, much cooler than fame or fortune. Some interests I know I will continue to pursue whether I make money from them or not, such as jazz music and writing poetry.
I guess I just have a lot of trouble imagining myself anywhere else than in an academic setting. Perhaps years of schooling have conditioned me to be this way. However, I think I would be lying if I brushed it off as just some sort of “academic conditioning.” In all my sixteen years of schooling, there have been very few days where I was unmotivated to get out of bed and face the school day. I thrive on school. I actually like school. And you may be asking yourself, “Who actually likes school?” Well, let me tell you, I am one strange kid.
From second to eighth grade I attended a private school in Holden, MA. It is a school of rare breed, and to this day I still do not understand where we found the many or the resources to do all of the things we did. We took countless field trips to places all over New England and even as far downward as Washington D.C. We met several authors and learned to paint like Winslow Homer and wrote our own plays commemorating the American Revolution. We did reenactments of the Chicago’s World Fair of 1893 and the Greek Olympics. We built models of the Parthenon out of sugar cubes and glow sticks.
I cannot say the same for my classmates (for I am not them), but those years of school really formed my character and personality. For me, learning there was rarely boring with passionate teachers and countless exploratory opportunities. When I got to high school, I realized that not all schools were like that, so I had to make the best of learning opportunities for myself. I formed connections with two teachers especially who became my mentors, I became a hardcore theater kid, and I started writing as much as I could. When studying for my history tests, I would spew all the information at my mom from memory. When I found that my high school classes weren’t challenging, I enrolled in advanced placement and dual enrollment courses.
I do not wish for this column to sound like I am bragging about myself and the opportunities I have had. I am beyond grateful for all of the possibilities that my education opened up for me, and I intrinsically hope that everyone will someday have the doors of education opened to them. My point in writing this column is to say, simply, that I love this kind of stuff. For me, there is a magic in learning, and my curiosity stops at nothing.
I am a really weird kid. I almost cried the other day when I was reading the Declaration of Independence. I once had a notebook with a panda bear on the front, and I named the panda “Plato the Panda.” I get very infuriated when I read people Frederick Nietzsche and David Hume. In essence, I am just a giant nerd, and I have accepted that. It is just who I am, and I should not be afraid to admit these things.
Everyone has something that they are crazy about. When you are honest about the things you love, you might find other people who love them too. My friend Katie could read the United States Constitution over and over again without becoming tired of it. I want to be that shameless about my academic nerdiness.
So you know how most people have a dream job? I guess you could say that mine is to be a student. I never want to stop learning. I will never stop pushing myself to be the best I can be, because, to me, to learn is to fly.
Song: “Open Your Eyes, You Can Fly” sung by Lizz Wright
Maia Campbell, a senior, studies political science. She is the Campus Life Editor of Le Provocateur.