By Rachel Richardson
A while back, my work buddy Kendra Royston started this awesome organization, Stupid Science INC, to support minorities and low-income students pursuing STEM degrees at HBCUs (Historically Black Colleges and Universities). I was so inspired by her passion, I was like “Dude, this is awesome! Anything I can do to help?”
And she was like, “Yeah, write a blog post.”
And I was like, “Yes, definitely. Will do! As soon as things die down from [insert life or work event here], it will be my top priority.”
Then I did that thing that we’re all guilty of – I put it off. Let’s be clear here . . . I did NOT forget, I just never actually made it a priority.
Now, to be fair, things have been a little crazy in the past six months since I promised Dr. Royston I’d write this blog post. I had to travel out of state, the holiday season hit, my workload blew up after New Year’s, and then the whole world shut down because of the novel coronavirus.
But let’s be real – I still found the time to jump back into Skyrim and binge re-watch all nine seasons of The Office. In the moment, indulging in a decade-old video game or TV show was more satisfying than helping out a friend.
Now you might be saying to yourself, “Ok, great, Rachel. So, you’re a procrastinator and maybe a bit of a crappy friend. But what’s this got to do with Stupid Science?”
Well, it’s a reminder that if something is important to you – like really important – you have to make the time for it. You have to force yourself to put in the effort no matter how far off or unlikely the desired outcome.
Like so many of us, I struggled with this a lot throughout my undergraduate career. I could see the outcome crystal clear – walking across the stage with my bachelor’s of science in hand, smiling, and looking forward to a job or grad school.
But when I sat down at my desk, daunted by the hours of reading that lay before me, my asshole brain was always like, “Psst. That PlayStation sure does look lonely over there.”
Now, I promise you I’m not actually lazy, but I have been called lazy by my teachers more than once. All kids with dyslexia have been labeled as lazy, dumb, or stupid at some point in their education.
Not being able to read a lick until 4th grade, but still loving science, I hoarded picture books about space and watched Star Trek re-runs like it was my job. These passions helped me see the outcome I wanted from my education: to be on the sickbay of the Starship Enterprise, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dr. Crusher and a team of scientists working on an experimental cure for a disease affecting a whole planet . . . or something like that.
And the first step to getting there was learning how to read the stupid words underneath the pictures of Saturn’s rings, the Milky Way, and the Cat’s Eye Nebula.
With a lot of hard work and help from a few superhero teachers, I was finally reading at grade level by middle school. Everyone, including my mom, thought there must have been some kind of miracle. When I got my diagnosis, the experts told my parents that I’d never be able to read a newspaper, let alone a 6th-grade science book.
By high school, I coasted under the radar with a solid B+ average. I was even considered one of the “smart kids” by my senior year. Being a band nerd and an above-average public speaker probably contributed to this unlikely reputation. And, you know, I was actually pretty dang smart even though the letters on my transcript didn’t always reflect that.
But when I arrived at university, things got exponentially harder. I worked my butt off my freshman year, but it was tough to keep up that kind of momentum. By the second semester of my sophomore year, my GPA took a considerable dip, and I fell into a deep depression. For example, I failed calculus and only passed with a C- minus the second time around. I just couldn’t keep up with all the reading. Filled with self-doubt and carrying a lifetime of intellectual baggage, I felt like a stupid failure every single day. I wanted to quit so bad.
I would have, too, if it hadn’t been for my mom, reminding me how hard I worked in elementary school. She recalled the nights I sat in tears at the kitchen table. I would force myself to just sit and sound out words, refusing to go to bed until I finished a paragraph. If I had that kind of perseverance as a little kid, I could dig deep and keep pushing myself as a young adult.
And so I did. I pushed, I struggled, and I eventually earned that degree. My grades weren’t the best, but I did graduate.
I walked across that stage as the first person in my family to earn a bachelor’s degree.
Today I have a handful of letters after my name. It took me a lot longer to get this far than most of my contemporaries, but the struggle and the journey have been worth it. I may not be on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise, but I get to use my beautiful dyslexic brain every day to communicate science to people who are just as curious and fascinated by the unknown as I am.
And the only way I got here was by making learning my top priority. I forced myself to put in the effort no matter how far off or unlikely the desired outcome.
Everyone who steps foot inside of a university faces new challenges those first few years. Some people, like me, get stressed out by the challenging workload. Others struggle with the freedom of managing their day to day schedules for the first time. Whatever the challenge, they are all valid. We all have to figure out how to do this adulting thing through trial and error.
But I promise you it’s worth it. Pushing through your obstacles, whatever they might be, and coming out on the other side is a success in and of itself. Don’t be daunted by the challenges that lay between you and your dreams. Instead, feel empowered to forge ahead with the knowledge that the resilience and wisdom you gain along the way are often worth more than even achieving the goal itself.