Two words. Law. School. I am on the ledge and it's time to take the plunge or step down and admit defeat. However, I do not condone defeat. I fight like hell to keep it at bay and it is precisely that fire festering inside me that has led me to where I am now, studying for the LSAT. A little confused? Let me start from the beginning:
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
My name is Samantha Plant and I had a picturesque, American family upbringing. I grew up in Chandler, Arizona [born in Colorado] in a typical four bedroom house on a street named Pleasant. See, I told you, a very Beaver Cleaver childhood. Except I was never quite the perfect, typical American daughter. When I was younger, about six or seven I guess, I would sit in my bedroom with my dolls but instead of playing "house" my bedroom was set up like a court room. I would take turns prosecuting and defending various toys on trial for larceny, manslaughter, murder 1, etc. Instead of putting the plastic baby in the plastic carseat located in the back seat of the plastic pink Barbie minivan and driving of to "school" the minivan was used as "exhibit one" in Ken's hit and run trial. I would watch Law and Order with my grandpa to foster ideas for my next moot court session. Surprising? It shouldn't be. As I previously stated I was not your typical child.
There was a boy who lived across the street from me, he may have been slightly older than me, I forget. But he was the best to play with because we would play "cops and robbers" with his friends. They would catch and drag the "criminal" back to his garage where I would act as lawyer pleading said "criminal"s defense. Justice coursed through my veins, it felt natural to me. That all began to change as time went on. I moved away from that house on Pleasant and into a similar four bedroom house in Mesa. I entered into fifth grade and, following stereotypes, hung with a large gaggle of girls. We did our hair and makeup and listened to Spice Girls. I had become the American teenager.
I was always good at school, smart I guess. In second grade I was tested and placed into the "gifted and talented" classes. Looking back now the title "gifted and talented" is quite a bit offensive. Are they trying to say that kids in regular classes are neither talented nor gifted? Furthermore, what does that say about their views on the special needs kids? Anyway, I was only placed into these "superior" classes because my mom wouldn't let the school bump me up two whole grade levels. These classes were fun though and they kept my attention. It was refreshing to have someone expect more from you than anyone else ever has. I excelled through the rest of my grade school years. I was in AP classes, president of several clubs, and was on the dance team.
Then I started college. I was convinced that my path in life was to do something involving medicine. Maybe not med school, but something revolving around the world of biology. After all in high school I loved my science classes most, so why wouldn't that translate to my college years? Wrong. After my first semester I found myself dreading class but I thought "Well, science was never meant to be easy and as long as I am doing well in it I should suck it up and keep going."
Sophomore year rolled around and in August I found myself sitting in a huge lecture hall wanting to hurl my guts out at the thought of starting organic chemistry. That semester I tried, and I nearly failed. I hated science, and not because I wasn't doing well with o-chem (I heard from many people that it takes two or three times to [verbatim] "kick it's ass") it was because I had lost my passion for learning. I hated going to class and I found any excuse to skip it if I could. It was the end of my sophomore year and before registering for the follow semesters classes I decided to sit down and have a heart to heart with myself. The conversation in my head went something like this:
Sam 1: "Well mom and dad are so excited that I am going to study medicine and they are paying for college."
Sam 2: "Are you happy?"
Sam 1: "Not at all, but you can't love everything you do. Right? Maybe after I suffer through this and go to graduate school I will start to like it more."
Sam 2: "Sometimes I don't know who you are. Your parents may be paying for this but they also raised you to stand up for what you feel, and do what it right for you. Continuing on this path isn't going to lead you anywhere besides sitting alone in your house, depressed, and a college drop out."
College drop out. That was all I needed to hear myself say. I felt sick again. It was finally time that I make a decision and do what makes me happy, not what makes everyone else happy. I had taken an ethics class and a justice class. I loved them both. So I decided that I would sign up for a semester of justice classes and see where that led me. Worst that could happen is I find out I don't like that either and have wasted a semester, in retrospect it's not the worst idea I've ever had. So, this summer I did just that. I registered for a full eighteen credit hours of justice studies classes. And that my friends brings us back to where I am now. Preparing for the LSATs.
As a side note: I have never loved learning more. Everyday I wake up excited for class and I feel this intense urge deep in my gut, wanting. Wanting to know everything about everything and to take in as much of life as I possibly can. Life is copacetic and I have never been happier.
Posted by itsasam at 10:54 AM