Editor’s note- The cover image for this article is one of my favourite images, the Burning of the Library of Alexandria. Whenever I think of challenge, the painting of all ancient knowledge being destroyed always comes to mind.
This past week, the rain fell in bands of cool grey skies and puddled on our roads. I remarked on it once in a while, as if it were mourning my own existence in a place I have called a community and home. One night I opened up a box of old papers and files from all my years of schooling and tore through it with ferocious intent; looking for something that sparked an emotional connection. I went through photographs, letters, essays, report cards, tests, and records. By the time three in the morning came, I fell down next to it. In that brief fleeting moment of solidarity as the sun crept over the morning sky, I realized what I was searching for. This is what I found.
Regardless of age, gender, societal or economic background, challenge is always present. We are faced with challenge as children when we learn to read and write. We are faced with challenge when a marriage doesn’t last forever. We are faced with challenge when a loved one is hurt or sick. And sometimes, when challenge becomes too great, it causes us to end the challenge for ourselves in gruesome ways.
From what I’ve learned at Oliver Ames, challenge is a universal obligation under which one accepts. It is the burden of being alive. From a strict interpretation, we would assume that humans would collapse under certain challenge and die off. But in a remarkable feat, humans don’t. Infact, they thrive. Mankind has climbed the tallest peaks on this planet, cured diseases, ended and started world wars, saved countless lives from starvation, and created momentous works of art all with challenge in their way.
Yesterday in that box I found a copy of a psychiatric evaluation done on me for hyperactivity and irregular behavior in June of 2008- a couple of years after my parents divorce. I was at a small, private catholic school with twenty one kids in the class. It was conducted in a formal fashion, where a psychiatrist at the Parkview School in Easton reviewed my mental state on and off methadextrate salts- speed, for short.
I was seven years old.
In twelve detailed pages, input from my parents, interviews with my seven year old self, commentary, evaluation, statistics, and test results laid out the entirety of my ‘condition’ during this time.
“Overall, Jackson’s classroom observations indicate a high level of inattention, fidgetiness, and distractibility. Work production is markedly lower than peers…Jackson sometimes lies…is often nervous… cries easily…almost always picks at hair, nails, or clothing…often gets into trouble… often says, ‘I hate myself’…often says ‘nobody likes me’…is sometimes cruel to animals…sometimes hits other children…sometimes hears sounds that are not there.”
And further.
“These behaviors correlate with ADHD and may be indicative of unrelated emotional distress, including depression or anxiety. It is this examiner’s recommendation that Mr. and Mrs. Stanley (divorced) pursue a complete psychiatric evaluation to insure that Jackson’s more overt behaviors are not more representative of these other emotional possibilities.”
I do not remember being evaluated, but I would classify this as a challenge.
From there, I was medicated with first Adderall, and then when the mood swings got out of control, Vyvanse. I do not necessarily agree that the medication improved my quality of life except for my academics and self control. My performance in school got increasingly better through the years, my attentiveness became stellar, and my discipline as well. I am not saying that it did not help. In fact, the medications brought me to be at grade level or better in all my subjects. It certainly elevated my ability to succeed. But the down sides for me were felt more as I got older.
The drugs make you lose your appetite, make your hands cold, and most importantly, make life seem dull. You forget your laugh and your smile. You experience depressive behaviors that mimic an inability to socialize and engage. It took myself out of me. And so, one challenge was replaced with another.
I know that the medications helped me in my individual circumstance, but I do not agree that every rambunctious, hyperactive kid needs to be classified into a small checked-off box as a diagnosis which could affect their self image further in the future. At one point in my life, I decided to confront this challenge and I found a way to own it.
Until my freshman year of high school, I was on medication every school day, and by the time I got off of it, I was fearful of myself because I thought I would lose my ability to be ‘restrained.’ But unlike my fears, these past four years have been beyond joy for me because I have found that being quirky or a little weird is not only okay, but applauded instead of scorned at. I have met many friends and have done exceptionally well in academics- even better than when I was on the medications. I have formed long lasting relationships, contributed to clubs including the robotics team as a captain and the school newspaper as the chief editor and administrator for the past two years, and participated in sports as a four year cross country team member- just to name a few.
I realized the universality of the impact that challenge has on people. I was not alone. I talked to friends and teachers about what life meant to them and I heard their stories about overcoming predicaments that ended families, friendships, and even lives. Oliver Ames taught me essentially a plethora of things that I use everyday as a result: compassion, empathy, love, intelligence, confidence, and kindness, but only when presented with challenge like struggling academically in a new school, fear of fitting in, and calloused work. We have to face our challenges and own them if we want to succeed! I wouldn’t give this lessons up for the world.
On my last day of high school, I look towards the University of Cincinnati in order to study aeronautical engineering. I will never forget what the meaning of challenge means to me when I remember those hallways, rainy runs with the cross country team, and friends and teachers who have helped me along the way.
The rain is still pouring as I look out my bay window. After today, there is only tomorrow.
Will you own challenge as I have?
Jackson N. Stanley