Last time, I talked about my little excursion to the Mediterranean. There’s more to the story than meets the eye. Let’s rewind the clock about nine years, to when I was a twenty-two-year-old college student in my third year – and a particularly exhausting year at that.
See, what they don’t tell you is how college really works. Often, it’s not so much an education, as it is a filtration system. They bury students under mountains of work, waiting to see who emerges unscathed by the end of the year. It’s more an endurance test than anything else, seeing if you have the capacity to burn the midnight oil, typing away at meaningless Word documents, all the while glancing at that little desktop clock, hoping to catch about five or six hours of shut-eye, knowing you’ll have to repeat the same trick again tomorrow.
This is, by the way, when I became somewhat of a coffee connoisseur. I’d chug down two cups of coffee during that fifteen minute break a little after ten o’clock, just to face a classroom full of twenty-five teenagers for an hour or two. Meanwhile, I’d have my fingers crossed that their teacher had woken up on the right side of the bed that morning, being responsible for grading my performance and all of that. At first, it all seemed to work out fine. But, as the weeks went by, exhaustion set in.
At this point, I wish I could tell you one of these motivational stories, that I had it rough, but that I came, saw, and conquered… all through sheer determination. But the reality was that my six-week work placement just hadn’t worked out. Up until then, my track record had been spotless, never having failed once. During the following weeks, I hoped to simply scrape by with a narrow pass.
Then, shortly before the Mediterranean trip, the verdict arrived: passed for everything but that one subject. The next semester, I’d have to take a redo. By the time I packed my bags for the trip, I’d already endlessly replayed what I could’ve done differently. What worried me most: I wasn’t confident that I could do much better given the same circumstances. And, thinking one or two steps ahead, I didn’t like where this was headed.
As all of this was going through my head, I found myself having to lead a group of teenagers, expected to provide them the experience of a lifetime in the Mediterranean – their parents having paid plenty for them to be there. I did my best to put on a brave face, but I’ll admit: I wasn’t feeling too great that first day, and self doubt was certainly clouding my thoughts. However, I soon decided that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t getting me anywhere, and that I better make the best out of this trip, especially as this was being graded as well. Somehow, I got back into my old groove, was able to laugh again (I hadn’t laughed for the longest time I realized). By the time I returned back home, I was myself once again.
There’s a reason for bringing this up. Last time, I told you about how I got to know Frank on that trip, and how he turned into one of those people who post graphs and charts on their social media, boasting about how much money they’re making. And I have a pretty good idea how it happened: he hit one of these low points, just like I did that time. Who knows, perhaps he found that employers weren’t exactly waiting around for someone with a philosophy degree. At times like these, people are very susceptible to voices promising easy solutions.
This is where self help comes in. You know, once it gets its hooks into someone, it tends to hit them hard. He used to share plenty of that stuff on his profile, and while not inherently bad, it often turns into a stepping stone towards a lack of critical thinking, and, eventually, it can even lead towards less than ethical behaviour in my view. I hope he’s seen the light, I truly do. Food for thought.
I hope you’re having a great weekend, take care.
Kind regards
Vincent J. Dancet