I’ve never been the smartest person in the room. Being a hopeful English major, I never felt that I compared to my friends who could do physics problems in their sleep. While my peers applied to Ivy League schools, I set my sights on less prestigious universities. Honestly, part of me wanted to attend a less prestigious college to possibly receive the awards my high school friends once accepted.
I wanted to share their spotlight of getting straight As, submitting work that teachers used for examples.
In March of my senior year of high school, I received an acceptance letter into the honors program of a good, but not necessarily prestigious, university. I immediately started looking into classes, getting excited about the next four years of my life. I researched clubs, I even visited the campus with my whole family. My mom bought me a hoodie, my dad posted a picture of me wearing it on his Facebook, announcing the good news. I wanted to commit right away, but my mom urged me to wait until I heard back from the University of California, Los Angeles. Reluctantly, I waited. Despite my mother’s plea, I told all of my friends that I planned on committing.
I even bragged about my acceptance on social media.
Then I got into UCLA. I opened the email in the car on the way home from school, fully expecting a rejection. I wasn’t even nervous; I already planned out my life at a different school. Shocked, I saw ‘congratulations’ sprawled across the top of my screen. “Oh my god, I got in,” I deadpanned. My family met my shock with joy, yet while they cheered, I went quiet. My mom turned to me to ask, “You’re going to go right?” I laughed it off telling her of course I would go, but honestly, I felt terrified.
Every night for months after being accepted, I sat in bed unable to sleep, my mind racing with nerves. What if I’m not smart enough? What if I can’t keep up with the classes? What if I can’t keep up academically with all of the kids at UCLA? I felt that destined to be surrounded by geniuses, when I’m just some girl who barely passed Spanish. I truly felt that UCLA made a mistake, that I would feel completely overwhelmed once I started classes.
My anxiety led me to avoid the situation.
I didn’t take time to look into resources at UCLA, causing me to miss the deadline to apply for the new student orientation, causing my anxiety to spiral further. If I couldn’t even figure out how to enroll in orientation, how could I take exams, write essays, or read novels for my English major? Everyone else had it all figured out while I fell behind. I felt the same way I did months before when I fell behind my high school friends in statistics class.
I ran to my parents crying about the entire situation. They urged me to look into UCLA’s resources to see if anyone could help me. I finally reached out to counselors in the English department, eventually picking out my classes with ease. Instead of lying in bed worrying, I began searching “Day in the Life of a UCLA Student” into Google, watching the top videos. I talked to other incoming freshmen through social media, even finding a roommate. Unsurprisingly, we all shared many of the same fears. It felt incredibly comforting to hear my fears expressed by other students. While UCLA houses many geniuses, many students simply do their best, just like me.
I don’t have to be the smartest person in the room.
I’m perfectly okay with just being a student furthering my education, doing the best I can just like everyone else. I don’t have to get straight As to ensure my success. Furthermore, having such anxieties is valid. A million other students at UCLA weren’t valedictorian or the president of Key Club, but they find their own success. I’m doing my very best and that’s enough.
