Christopher Rivera, Period 7, 11/4/22

Christopher Rivera

Period 7

11/4/22

Atomic Habits & Growth

My personal standards, both academic and extracurricular, are very high, but perhaps not in the way one would expect. My parents never scolded me for sub-par grades, nor did they sign me up for private tutoring or a plethora of music lessons. Instead, they weaponized the most significant motivator in my elementary school world: money. Specifically, they exploited my rather expensive obsession with Lego toys (not an obsession that I have outgrown). I wanted a new Lego set? If I got a hundred on my next math test, I got a whole five dollars! Nothing pushed me to study more than the promise of a fine new addition to my steadily growing Lego collection. My standards for school were sky-high, held up by my intense material desire.

When I entered sixth grade, I was greeted with an earth-shaking new concept - a grade point average. Now I could see all my test scores together on Pupilpath (may it rest in peace), and I could compare my performance with the performances of my similarly studious classmates. At this point in my life, my standards transitioned from being reward-focused to becoming internal. I had become so used to high grades that anything less than flawlessness felt like a failure. As I watched the little decimals on my averages change day to day, I thought I needed perfect grades to prove my value to my peers, my family, and myself. This extreme internal pressure to succeed caused my academic standards to be set at absolute perfection. I stressed out over every test and quiz, afraid that my paper would return with (God forbid) a 90. These standards led to a superb middle school transcript, but I eventually realized my incredibly unhealthy mindset was unsustainable.

Coming into high school, I knew something had to change. I needed to alleviate the academic pressure that had accumulated all throughout middle school. Entering freshman year, I adopted my patented “It eez what it eez” mentality. This didn’t mean that I stopped caring about school, it  meant that I stopped obsessing over my grades as much. I had always loved the process of learning, and I decided to prioritize that over any final. As a result of this change in thinking, my standards ceased to be grade-based, and instead became effort-based. Instead of focusing on the best I could achieve, I focused on the best I could attempt. This way of seeing my education has not only helped me maintain good grades, but also made me much less stressed and pressured at every turn. I’m perfectly content with B grades if I knew I had studied the material to the best of my ability, whereas in middle school I would have had a breakdown.

The high-effort standards I place on myself apply to all parts of my life, not just in my schoolwork. In my challenging BC Calculus class, I make a point to understand every difficult concept beyond simple memorization. This standard has often been hard to meet, especially when inverse derivatives and implicit differentiation cook my brain into a burnt Eggo waffle. Taking the time in class and at home to think deeply about the topics has allowed me to stay on top of challenging coursework. As a member of the Boy Scouts of America who is reaching the end of his eligibility, there is certainly the temptation to avoid the drawn-out two hour meetings and just stay home every Thursday night. Unfortunately for my lazier half, I have set a standard for myself- I am committed to attending every meeting and event I possibly can right up until I graduate. 

When I started brainstorming for my fairy tale project, I spent weeks simply trying to come up with ideas for an ideal story. I knew the fairy tale didn’t have to be a masterpiece, but because of my effort-driven mindset, I set myself the standard of writing the absolute best story I could, with a relevant theme, fleshed-out characters, and an engaging plot. The result was a six-page behemoth of a story, perhaps my proudest work of creative writing ever. I knew that I didn’t need to write nearly as much to meet all the requirements of the rubric, but I wanted to push myself to write more than just a passable piece of writing. 

Assessing myself with respect to my personal standards is very important to me, because when I start to slack off on an obligation, it always shows eventually. For instance, I am the acoustic guitarist in a band at my church, and I was recently called out by a leader for not practicing on my own time. I had become so comfortable with showing up to rehearsals and figuring out how to play on the spot that I had neglected working my skills at home. This approach worked fine for easy songs, but as the music grew more complex, my unfamiliarity with the music became evident. At that moment, I knew I needed to rededicate myself to a standard of daily practice.

Writing this blog has made me realize that I have set high standards in so many endeavors, while also drawing my attention to areas of my life where my standards have been sliding downwards. Hopefully, I can take the same effort and attitude I put into reaching my academic standards and apply it holistically to everything I do.