Posted by Miranda B.
Note: I wrote most of this on the airplane back to LA last week. It started out as just a blog post, but ultimately became something more cathartic and important to me, and helped me think through all the changes this semester and appreciate my work so much more. This is probably the longest thing I've written all semester, but undoubtedly my most meaningful post.
A while ago, I posted my top ten list of how Hopkins was different from high school. I think I wrote that sometime in late September or early October, before the reality of college really hit me (and probably a lot of us). I just looked back on what I wrote, and while none of those individual items are inaccurate, I’ve found some much bigger differences. I’m writing this blog just as my own reflection, but I’m sure that a lot of the freshman class can relate to at least parts of this, and maybe even all of it.
There are people at Hopkins from all different sorts of high schools with all different sorts of preparation. What unites us is that we’re all intelligent and are capable of doing the work. What separates us, however, is how we prepared we were for college. Some students went to boarding schools, prep schools, or highly selective public magnets. Others of us went to rural schools without as many options, or urban public schools. Some never had a class with more than 15 people, and got lots of individualized attention. Some of us had to teach ourselves material because of mediocre teachers (or just no teachers), and had classes cancelled if only 15 people signed up. Some schools offered elective classes like multivariable calculus and organic chemistry. Some schools couldn’t support more than a few AP classes. I could go on and on with comparisons like these, but I think the message is clear – that we all went to really different high schools, and had really different experiences, yet we’re all held to the same standards here at Hopkins.
In a way it’s nice. It’s nice to have that sort of educational equality and know that no matter where I came from, I still got into Hopkins, and I’m a Hopkins student now. And in another way, it’s tough. Tough to relate to people with extremely different education experiences, and tough to hold your own in a classroom filled with people with superior preparation.
Hopkins is a really big transition from high school for me. I went to my local public high school. It’s considered one of the nicer high schools in the Los Angeles area, but it’s nothing like what a nice public school in New Jersey, Massachusetts, or New York has to offer. The majority of students at my high school didn’t take AP classes, and the majority of them are currently at community college. That’s fine. I didn’t think I was missing that much in high school. I knew that some of the nicer schools near me offered Calc 3, comparative government, and computer science, but it was something I just accepted. I knew in college, I would have all these opportunities, and could take anything from South Asian Art to Ancient Greek Philosophy to Russian to Biochemistry. I got used to the fact that I went to a school that had funding issues, and we couldn’t ever have a small class without the fear of cancellation looming over our heads. I was used to the fact that we had security guards, a locked campus, and a no-hat policy. I didn’t think those things would separate my high school existence from other people’s so much. One time, in my French class, we had to talk about our high school dress code. I mentioned that we couldn’t wear hats. The other students were confused. Even outside? Yes, I explained. There had been problems with potential gang issues and fights. The hat policy and a locked campus were things I’d taken for granted, and when I talk to other students from urban areas, they immediately understand. However, there’s a large contingent of students who had dissimilar experiences who can’t relate things like that.
Reading back over the last several paragraphs, I realize it sounds like I’m extremely isolated from others in my class and that I can’t get over high school. That’s not the case. I have friends from private schools, boarding schools, rural schools, top-tier public schools, and normal urban ones like mine. My high school education is not something that I’m letting define me or stop me from achieving what I want to do.
The point that I did want to make, however, is that a lot of the people here are better prepared for the type of work expected at Hopkins. I want to stress here that I’m not saying that they’re smarter, or that they’re more capable. We’re all smart and we’re all capable. It’s that they’ve been exposed to material like this already and have been exposed to a predominantly academic environment. They’re used to understanding how to derive complicated formulas and why it’s important instead of just using them. They’re used to writing essays beyond the basic 5-paragraph model. Latin was offered at their high school. A lot of us haven’t been exposed to this, though. However, I’ve been learning to accept that that’s okay, and keep reminding myself that I’m just as smart as everyone else here, and that I’m capable of doing this work and succeeding. It might (and generally does) take me more effort, time, and frustration, but I am capable of it
In high school, I was one of those students. The ones that didn’t always take notes because we could just remember it. The ones that did homework from other classes during class, and still understood everything and kept up perfectly. The ones that could get by without studying (or at least not very much). Granted, my high school was a lot easier, but it’s still difficult suddenly being someone who HAS to write down every single thing the professor says during my math class, or the person who doesn’t understand a comment made because it used a word I really should know but don’t.
Classes this semester have been challenging – I’m not going to lie. I’m not writing this as a solicitation for pity from anyone, but more as a reflection of what I went through transitioning, and what a lot of others are too. I’m going to write about my math class here because it taught me a lot, and my improvements in that class are some of the things I’m most proud of this semester.
This semester I took a class called Discrete Mathematics. Yes, I’m a history/international studies major. Yes, I know there are the “easy” science and math classes for humanities majors to fulfill their distribution requirements with. Yes, I realize I don’t have to take math. However, there were a few good reasons. I wanted to take Stats II, but that didn’t fit into my schedule. This was also offered through the same department. It described itself as a logic based class, with an emphasis on proofs. I didn’t need calculus (yes, I’ve taken calc, but I don’t remember most of it) for it. It sounded interesting, and a little bit of me wanted to prove that even though I was a humanities/social sciences major, I could still do math and take a class in the engineering department. It sounded like a plan.
However, even the best laid plans go awry. For me, discrete is an extremely challenging class. It’s not like most math classes, where once you understand the concept, you just apply the concept, and voila! It’s something where you have to deeply understand all the concepts, and then apply them for different proofs. To sum it up, it’s really hard. We had our first test in the beginning of October. I thought I’d studied well – I’d done all the practice tests (and thought I’d understood them), as well as reviewing problems from the homework. However, my test score didn’t reflect that. I won’t go into details, but it was probably the worst I’ve ever done on a test. To make it worse, it was the first test I’d taken in college.
Needless to say, I was pretty upset. We got our tests back on a Friday, and that weekend all of the feelings I had about being inadequate and transitioning and not stacking up all reared their ugly head. That time was really tough, and I was seriously questioning my abilities and my potential to succeed here. However, with the help and understanding of a great group of friends, classmates, and professors, I pulled out of it, and became even more determined to pass the class.
The next test, I studied 18 hours for. I went over my notes from class, the practice tests, recommended practice problems and proofs. I had over 30 pages of review problems in my notebook by the time I was finished. It paid off, and I got a B on that test. A lot of people enrolled in discrete don’t come to class, and don’t study very much, and I know some of them (as well as lots of other people) did better than I did. People called me crazy for doing so much studying. I’ve accepted that and embraced my crazy studying tactics. I know this comes a lot more easily for other people, and that I have to work harder.
We had our final last week. I started studying for this before reading period even started, and by the time I took my final, I’d used up my notebook (which I’ve NEVER done before), and had done 54 pages of review problems. I don’t even want to try and estimate how much time I spent studying. Looking back now, I’m realizing just how much that is. Kafka’s Metamorphosis is that length! However, I went in knowing I’d put everything I had into studying, and that I had done everything I was mentally capable of doing. I’ve talked to people, and some think the final was “ridiculously easy.” I think it was definitely a challenge, but it was definitely one I was prepared for, even if I didn’t initially recognize that.
I think that statement is a good reflection of my time at Hopkins. Sure, it’s been a major transition. Yes, it’s been tough. Yes, it’s been a lot of work and a lot of effort, even when others seem to understand it effortlessly. However, I’ve come to understand that preparation can mean more than one thing. It can mean knowing facts and concepts, calculus and literary terms. However, it can also be a mindset. For me now, knowing that I’m prepared means knowing what I’m capable of, and what I have to put in to achieve the results I want. Hopkins is a challenge, but it’s one I’m finding I’m definitely prepared for.
Am I glad I ventured outside my safety zone and took this class? Yes. Although it’s caused me to spend countless hours trying to understand modular arithmetic, combinatorial proofs, proving the binomial theorem, and why a graph with a K-3,3 subgraph isn’t planar, it’s also caused me to learn a lot about myself, my determination, and what I’m truly capable of. Have I ever taken a class this challenging? No. Was it worth doing something so difficult? Yes. Am I going to embrace challenges in the future? Most certainly!
