Climbing on the housetop

This year I played the classic game — as an upperclassman, active club member and beau — of trying to get out of Spring Sing. My friends and I agreed on a rule: if I’m old enough to be applying for grad school and looking at potential in-field jobs, I should not have to be expected to run around on a stage and get all sweaty. It’s funny being an upperclassman now, seeing who still wears their jerseys, who still gets really into club or intramural sports and who still wears their club or team merch. Don’t you have anything better to do, like school?

As I get older, it feels sillier and sillier to wear my jersey on Fridays, to dress up in purple and green when we beaux or to get my eyeliner done for Spring Sing. In the past, I’d have been willing to change everything about myself to wear a goofy uniform and fit into a silly little club, but when I found those groups here, I didn’t have to change a thing about myself. I wonder why some people will now change everything about themselves to no longer associate with something they previously held so dear.

It feels almost like the secret of Santa Claus. Everyone loves Santa as a child and will change their behavior to be visited by him. (Though few parents are heartless enough to withhold presents from disobedient children on Christmas). Once a child finds out Santa isn’t real, they abhor anything that has to do with fairy tales or the fun stories of Christmas. After this, people have a spectrum of where they can end up. They can be like Dorey Walker from “Miracle on 34th Street,” who tells every child in sight that Santa isn’t real; or they can simply acknowledge that the legend of Santa Claus is fun but false and move on with their merry lives; or they can contribute to bringing the same feeling to others that they themselves felt when they first believed, a belief not in the legend, but replacing magic in the legend of Santa with the faith and generosity of St. Nicholas. In doing so, they teach others to have the capacity for generosity and love.

I think we need a reminder of what a healthy attitude toward school should be: that we take pride in our work as a user of our God-given talents, but we should not give that work power to single-handedly define our worth as a valuable person in society, especially not in comparison to others. Since the curriculum is so different across various departments, comparing workloads contributes to a toxic academic environment. I am unable to mention each particular area of study and address the perception of rigor that comes with them, but I urge you to investigate the mindset you have of your schoolwork and the intention behind it.

We all know that God created us with different talents and abilities, so let’s start showing respect to every career path, as all are necessary for humanity’s success. To the future teachers, videographers, childlife specialists, designers, social workers and coaches, we not only need you, but we need you to believe in the work you do, too.

There is value in a work ethic, period. Perhaps you are guilty of either discrediting or giving too much credit to your work, due to a simple comparison to what others are involved in. Value personal judgment on that, yes. You should know your own standards and what drives you. But do not get subliminally fooled into considering your academic challenges worthless or worth too much because of what is or isn’t required of you, and respect the professional goals of your peers, as well as yourself.

You have to know what you’re getting into and stick with it. If you have a stereotypically “easier” major, give it everything that is required and more because you have a gift that is meant to be used. If you have a “harder” major, don’t discredit the work other people are doing just because they chose a different path than you. Embrace this challenging journey you set out to take, knowing it should pay off in the end and you will play a vital role in the lives of others.

My fellow Bison, it may be time for you to flip that coin.

GRACE WINFREE is a guest writer for The Bison. She may be contacted at gwinfree@harding.edu.

Naturally, no organization is perfect, nor any family. Of course, when I am involved in my club, it’s going to take me away from “more important” things like my closest friends, job or schoolwork. When I was a part of the Student Association my sophomore year, it wasn’t my own motivation that made me active and passionate about what I was doing, but Ethan Brazell, a senior who spent time with me and helped me foster my gifts. My freshman and sophomore years, I wasn’t active in my social clubs because of myself and my pledge class alone, but because of my friends like Maddy, Coleman and Sam, juniors and seniors who invited me to things and gave me rides there. They didn’t just pass me the torch, but they held onto it with me, and we would both enjoy — in different capacities — what it meant to be a part of the groups we were in. It would be a shame to them, and a disservice to those who are younger than I, to avoid wearing my jersey. Perhaps, in my season of life, when I’m looking at jobs and applying to grad school, there is nothing more meaningful I could do than invest in what I do and who I look up to.

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