Alex Chaoukouri
The American school system failed me, but not in the way that most American students describe being failed by the system. I have plenty of friends that love to complain about how ill-prepared high school left them for adult life, and I understand that perspective. I personally think they would feel a lot more prepared if they’d paid a lick of attention to the class content instead of playing Racecar Driver Simulator on their school-issued Chromebook, but what do I know? A lot, apparently, because my grief with the American school system is derived from a special program called “academic acceleration.” In other words, I got bumped up from kindergarten to the first grade, and 12 years later, I’m stuck with all the responsibilities of an adult with practically none of the privileges.
I turned 17 a whole eight days before I walked the stage at my high school graduation, and I won’t turn 18 until the end of my freshman year of college. It’s a cool fact that I often take pride in sharing, but moving five hours away to study at the University of Washington (UW) before becoming a legal adult sounds a lot better in theory than it is in practice. Going to college comes with many expectations; ones not usually bestowed on someone under the age of 18. The first thing that comes to mind for me is all the paperwork. I’m buried in forms to sign, miniature courses on hazing and alcohol culture, and a ton of emails. Just looking at the UW logo almost gives me a headache from the association of those unending emails. There’s no better way to kill the joy and excitement of starting a new chapter of my life than having to ask my mom for our bank routing number or our tax forms. The best part: I can’t even sign things for myself. Every legally binding document the university sends my way must also be signed by one of my parents, meaning I’m expected to follow certain rules and do certain things, yet I’m not the one who gets the final say. It really doesn’t seem like the best exercise in independence.
In all fairness, I don’t know how ready I am to be independent. My teachers have thrown that word around a lot because of my preference to work on my own rather than in a group, but there is one person who I am absolutely not independent from: my mom. I’ve been attached to my mother’s hip for my entire life, tagging along with her to do the most mundane tasks and talking her ear off the whole time. We’ve got a pretty good dynamic going, if I do say so myself. She makes my pasta sauce, I crack her back. She watches movies with me, I go grocery shopping with her. We are two gears in a machine, and me going off to college just throws a massive wrench in it all. That change might just be the scariest of them all, and I’m kind of in denial.
This whole process has always seemed like a very distant concept to me. Attending a university is something I felt I’ve been destined to do since childhood, but never really liked to think too hard about. Granted, I don’t like to think too hard about a lot of things because I’m the definition of a worrier, but the level of avoidance I have been expressing towards college is pretty unique. I think what bothers me the most about the concept is the thought of such a substantial change to my routine. I struggle with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), and while you may not know this due to how horrendously misrepresented by popular culture and the media OCD is, routine and structure are integral to relieving anxiety associated with the condition. I have had the same bedroom and bathroom for six years, and I’m accustomed to having my own space – and a lot of it. The fact that I’m expected to just suck up the fact that all of that is going to change is really frustrating for me.
Considering that this article has devolved into a Declaration of Independence-esque list of grievances, I must make it very clear that it isn’t all bad. Every time I’m feeling anxious about leaving my regular life behind or skimming a 60-page housing agreement, I remind myself why I’m doing all of this. The University of Washington is my dream school, and Seattle is my dream city. I’ve been navigating being a queer, mixed person in a relatively conservative area my whole life, and the promise of acceptance and understanding that UW offers me is everything I could ever ask for. When I leave at the end of the month, I leave behind my safe space and my built-in best friend (my mom), but I also leave behind a version of me that fears my own authenticity. I can be unapologetically me and celebrated for it. No more snickering from my peers at the way I dress, no more dirty looks when I dare to voice my opinion.
As much as I will struggle under the weight of the expectations of being an adult, the weight of the expectations of my peers will be lifted from my shoulders the second I see that “Leaving Spokane” sign. I’ve lived in the same place my entire life and have thus been surrounded by the same people my entire life. Some great, some not-so-great. Regardless of how much I like the people I grew up around, staying around them prevents my own growth. I’m scared to try new things because I’ve already defined who “Alex” is, but that won’t be the case in a brand-new environment. I may not be an adult yet, but UW offers me a chance to grow into the adult I want to be.
Evidently, the American school system did end up kind of screwing me over with this going-to-college-as-a-minor thing, but as my mom would say, “It builds character.” There are a lot of obstacles to overcome and expectations to navigate in my future, but there are also new friends and knowledge waiting for me right alongside all of the doubt. Dog days are over, but Dawg days are just getting started.
Alex Chaoukouri just graduated from Central Valley High School with honors and will be attending the University of Washington in the fall to study law.
