Academic Validation

              My tale begins between two worlds: Hogwarts and the British School. If you know Harry Potter, you know the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Every student in Harry Potter is assigned to a house. Throughout their time at the school, they look to earn housepoints to help their house win the House Cup. Housepoints are earned by academic performance and behavior. The British education system is deeply rooted in this same housepoint system. Since the age of five I belonged to a house, but my academic endeavours didn’t begin with housepoints, they began with a single gold star sticker.
              Suited up in uniform, red bow, and black lacquered school shoes, I began my quest. My first back- pack was bigger than me, and empty. What does a three year old need to bring to preschool? But that’s the student I’ve always been. I don’t know why I was first fascinated by my education, or if there was any reason at all. Like any foundational reward system, the British School rewarded good behavior among Nursery students using stickers. With an act of kindness, respect, or discipline, one would receive a star sticker that would be placed next to their name on display.
               One fall day, I went to school and committed what I’ve always classified to be my most ruthless act of academic greed; I was four. The board in our classroom that heralded our star stickers glorified the room. It was the beacon of my fascination throughout my days in school. In drowning myself in the sparkle of each small gold star sticker, slowly peeling from the display wall, I subconsciously began to trigger what would later become my greed to succeed. I fell into a trap when I couldn’t stop staring at the board or when I only coveted to hear the words, “Great job Rania, you get a sticker!” Though the amount of stars surrounding my name toppled over those of my peers, I still wanted more. And it is then when I committed my most formida- ble crime: I stole a single gold star sticker from my teacher’s desk, just to have one more next to my name.
               In Year 3, I was assigned to the house London. My green housepin, attached to the white, cotton collar of my dress, hallmarked me everyday. Every 100% I received on an assignment was a housepoint, every insightful comment I made was a housepoint, and every time I appeared to be more brilliant than one of my peers, I was awarded a housepoint. My introductory yearning for validation in the form of star stickers transformed to housepoints. There was no harm in competing with classmates to win the House Cup, but it was more destructive for me. Growing up in a system where I was rewarded every time I proved myself to be better, smarter, or more ‘brilliant’ than someone else, I desired validation for every academic venture I embarked on. That green pin I wore every day was foundational to the satisfaction I found infectious, “How clever Rania. One housepoint for London.”
               After 7th grade, I transferred schools. The British school vs the school I go to now have entirely opposite philosophies. At British I was bred to seek success, and win, whereas now at my school, students are encouraged to learn, grow, and in fact are never in a situation where they’re competing against their classmates. It was a change in atmosphere that made me feel like a muggle in the wizard world. But my thrill for learning felt no curve at my new school. I continued to succeed, and lead with ambition. Only recently have I finally found myself believing in my brilliancy, not just waiting for validation: a concept I had failed to do since a young age.
               I’ve always wanted to be thought of as unstoppable. That feeling when you ace the quiz, get the lead, organize debate, win the award, get played, print the magazine, nail the interview, or recieve praise, it all becomes addictive, and can become unbearable to be around. That feeling of being unstoppable is merely draining, like a match falling into a burnout. I love the person I become within the walls of school, but when my bubble of flashy gold star stickers and green house pins is popped, who am I? Who am I if I’m not the girl who tries to do everything? Who am I if I’m not the girl who tries overly hard? Who am I if I’m not the girl who erases a word if she dosen’t like the way her handwriting looks, compulsively checks her grades, asks the questions, knows the awnser, who am I without school? Upon my current successes, I’m left wondering if I hadn’t sought out stickers or housepoints, or validation at all, would I still have found success in my academics and within myself? Am I enthralled or intoxicated by my education?
               Validation is what we crave when we’re unsure of a moment, or of ourselves. And seeking it works in exactly the opposite way we want it to. Nothing is inherently wrong with ambition, but it can become one of our greatest troubles when matched with hyper-competitiveness or a single-minded focus. Whether it’s in the form of a housepoint or a single star sticker: I grew up in systems that stifled me, and trapped me in ambition. Ambition, greed, and validation are traits that lead us to become blind to the impact of our actions, we start chasing goals for the sake of hitting targets instead of in pursuit of success. I don’t think there’s any use in wishing my foundational education hadn't made me reliant on academic validation, but I do think that I have a lesson to learn from my education: don’t let your cravings for external validation go too far. That’s the gift of the education I'm receiving now. The growth I’m finding is coming from how I am because of my peers, not who I am compared to them. Like so many things in life, you have to strike a balance with validation, and ambition. Because in the real world, determination is a concept that is birthed from within. Don’t determine your self-worth on a grade or how someone else values your successes. Brilliancy isn’t kindled from a green pin, or from a single gold star sticker, it’s found in the person behind it.