Dear Mr. President,
Today I brought in one of my Senior portraits to show one of my coworkers who'd asked to see what I looked like with dreadlocks. A trip down memory lane always is good for a laugh, (especially when recalling my 18-year-old self's somewhat eccentric fashion sense.) This week, reflecting as I have been on the very different paths so many of my friends from those days have taken, I can't help but wonder if the girl with the purple dreads and the pink satin thrift-store dress over bell-bottom jeans would be happy with the way she's turned out. My wardrobe is certainly more subdued, my hair less exciting, but would she be ok knowing what I've become? What I've failed to become? I may not miss much about being 18, but she had a faith in herself and in her own ability to achieve that's been lost in the years since this picture was taken, and today I miss that faith tremendously.
I've been struggling lately to remind myself that lives and accomplishments can't (and shouldn't) be held up for comparison. The decisions that have led me to my current state may haunt me in the evident joy of those who chose the alternate path, but I cannot evaluate my life against those of my peers. Our circumstances and struggles and goals are very different. It is ultimately the ways I've disappointed my own hopes, and not the ways the my life and accomplishments fail to measure up to those of my friends, that really bother me.
Do you feel like you've lived up to the goals you set for your Presidency? While it may be just as unfair to compare your own achievements to those of previous Presidents, this context is used by media pundits and fellow politicians alike to lend context to your achievements and shortcomings. This may be even more unfair than judging my own life against other 24-year-olds, as
we've come of age in the same era while your predecessors had very different social, congressional and economic situations. I reject the comparisons to Presidents Clinton, Carter and Bush (I & II) but I do wonder about the ways you've disappointed your own hopes and expectations. Today's tax compromise cannot feel like you'd imagined running the country would feel when you were campaigning.
I'm probably just projecting my own soul-searching onto you, but I think that such an ugly political defeat would have to make you reflect on the things you said you'd do once you got to the White House. I wish I had something cheerful or comforting to say, but I can only hope that both of us find the strength to face our reflections tomorrow morning. Our accomplishments, past and to come, mean nothing without it. And, be it because of the judgement of old photographs or the way we suffer in comparison to others, I think that there is some good, some hope, so long as we maintain the honesty necessary to feel our disappointment in ourselves.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label ambition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ambition. Show all posts
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Day 321- A letter I will surely regret writing
Dear Mr. President,
This morning my American Indian Law class had a guest lecturer from our University's law school. He gave an interesting talk on local water rights disputes, and I asked several questions, trying to place the local issues in context with the international water disputes I study in another class. After the bell rang and students lined up to shuffle out, I thanked him for the lecture. My professor began speaking to him and, before I was totally out of earshot, began telling him about me. As much as my ego enjoys overhearing complimentary descriptions of my academic abilities, I hurried out, knowing exactly what would have to come next. This professor, who has encouraged me to consider law school and who has praised my engagement in her class, does have a significant reason to be disappointed in me. I'm often absent from class for no legitimate reason. Her class is not unique in this respect- I have skipped many of my classes this quarter (and over the course of my long college career.) While I have often formed a close bond with professors, or at least a significant rapport, all of the most encouraging and supportive instructors have had the same complaint about my attendance.
For years, for probably my entire life, I have struggled with anxiety and depression. I won't blame my poor attendance entirely on illness, mental or otherwise, because there have been plenty of times when I just sleep too late to make it to class. More often, however, the idea of getting out of bed, or leaving my apartment, or even going through the doors of the classroom has just been too much for me. I will stare at my ceiling, or the door, and I will give myself permission not to go. I will try to rationalize this behavior, claim that I'm not prepared, or that I don't need to go because I've done the reading, but the truth is I often just can't get past the physical anxiety or despair.
As it is now, missing class is pretty much as bad as it gets. There have been times in my life, especially as a very young person, when my depression got so out of hand that I was not functioning at all. I've tried therapy and medication, finding little success with either. One constant, however, has been my inability to discuss these problems frankly, even with professionals. I'm usually the type of person who can narrate the struggles in my life like they happened to some one else. I'm pretty comfortable telling a perfect stranger about my last awkward crush, (partially because it makes for such a good story) but I won't talk to my closest friends about the way depression can paralyze me, make me withdraw and unable to do something so simple as get out of bed.
Part of my reluctance to talk about it is certainly related to cultural stigmas about mental illness. Once close friend who used to struggle with similar problems now works for the defense department and was refused a post outside of the US on the basis of her mental health issues, despite years of very successful treatment. Celebrities who come clean about eating disorders or suicide attempts are called brave, while a politician must carefully hide any hint of similar problems in their past for fear of being viewed as unstable or unqualified. I say I'll regret writing this letter because, even more than my radical leftist politics, revealing this aspect of my life to the unending memory of the internet is damning to any future in which I might wish to be taken seriously.
This isn't to say I feel I should be held to a different standard. Getting out of bed this morning may have been more of a personal victory for me than it would be for most people, but that's not all I'm responsible for, now that I'm awake. I have goals, and I have expectations for myself that have nothing to do with being depressed or not. I don't think that depression is an excuse for me to be satisfied with an ordinary life. Similarly, I think it is completely unfair that any one else would change what they think of me or my abilities because of it. As humans we all have our own struggles, our own challenges to overcome and our own disadvantages. If one of my challenges is to keep depression from affecting my academic performance, it certainly isn't my life's greatest, only the one I have been taught I must be the most ashamed of.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
PS
Our guest lecturer this morning mentioned that your administration, while more ambitious and better at communication than the previous administration, has failed to live up to your promises for improving Native American rights and addressing the social, economic and environmental concerns of many tribes. The Bush administration, he said, wouldn't give tribal leaders a meeting, flatly refusing most requests. Your administration shows up to the meeting, hears the concerns, and then says no. While this may represent a small kind of victory, it sounds to me like you're giving yourself too much credit for making it out of bed. Being better doesn't mean much when the bar has been set so low for so long.
This morning my American Indian Law class had a guest lecturer from our University's law school. He gave an interesting talk on local water rights disputes, and I asked several questions, trying to place the local issues in context with the international water disputes I study in another class. After the bell rang and students lined up to shuffle out, I thanked him for the lecture. My professor began speaking to him and, before I was totally out of earshot, began telling him about me. As much as my ego enjoys overhearing complimentary descriptions of my academic abilities, I hurried out, knowing exactly what would have to come next. This professor, who has encouraged me to consider law school and who has praised my engagement in her class, does have a significant reason to be disappointed in me. I'm often absent from class for no legitimate reason. Her class is not unique in this respect- I have skipped many of my classes this quarter (and over the course of my long college career.) While I have often formed a close bond with professors, or at least a significant rapport, all of the most encouraging and supportive instructors have had the same complaint about my attendance.
For years, for probably my entire life, I have struggled with anxiety and depression. I won't blame my poor attendance entirely on illness, mental or otherwise, because there have been plenty of times when I just sleep too late to make it to class. More often, however, the idea of getting out of bed, or leaving my apartment, or even going through the doors of the classroom has just been too much for me. I will stare at my ceiling, or the door, and I will give myself permission not to go. I will try to rationalize this behavior, claim that I'm not prepared, or that I don't need to go because I've done the reading, but the truth is I often just can't get past the physical anxiety or despair.
As it is now, missing class is pretty much as bad as it gets. There have been times in my life, especially as a very young person, when my depression got so out of hand that I was not functioning at all. I've tried therapy and medication, finding little success with either. One constant, however, has been my inability to discuss these problems frankly, even with professionals. I'm usually the type of person who can narrate the struggles in my life like they happened to some one else. I'm pretty comfortable telling a perfect stranger about my last awkward crush, (partially because it makes for such a good story) but I won't talk to my closest friends about the way depression can paralyze me, make me withdraw and unable to do something so simple as get out of bed.
Part of my reluctance to talk about it is certainly related to cultural stigmas about mental illness. Once close friend who used to struggle with similar problems now works for the defense department and was refused a post outside of the US on the basis of her mental health issues, despite years of very successful treatment. Celebrities who come clean about eating disorders or suicide attempts are called brave, while a politician must carefully hide any hint of similar problems in their past for fear of being viewed as unstable or unqualified. I say I'll regret writing this letter because, even more than my radical leftist politics, revealing this aspect of my life to the unending memory of the internet is damning to any future in which I might wish to be taken seriously.
This isn't to say I feel I should be held to a different standard. Getting out of bed this morning may have been more of a personal victory for me than it would be for most people, but that's not all I'm responsible for, now that I'm awake. I have goals, and I have expectations for myself that have nothing to do with being depressed or not. I don't think that depression is an excuse for me to be satisfied with an ordinary life. Similarly, I think it is completely unfair that any one else would change what they think of me or my abilities because of it. As humans we all have our own struggles, our own challenges to overcome and our own disadvantages. If one of my challenges is to keep depression from affecting my academic performance, it certainly isn't my life's greatest, only the one I have been taught I must be the most ashamed of.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
PS
Our guest lecturer this morning mentioned that your administration, while more ambitious and better at communication than the previous administration, has failed to live up to your promises for improving Native American rights and addressing the social, economic and environmental concerns of many tribes. The Bush administration, he said, wouldn't give tribal leaders a meeting, flatly refusing most requests. Your administration shows up to the meeting, hears the concerns, and then says no. While this may represent a small kind of victory, it sounds to me like you're giving yourself too much credit for making it out of bed. Being better doesn't mean much when the bar has been set so low for so long.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Day 313- Life is weird.
Dear Mr. President,
Lately I've had a number of conversations with friends about the kind of people we want in our lives, and the kind of people we want to be ourselves. It comforts me to know that other people also struggle with their own conceptions of themselves and their desire to see the good even in the deeply flawed. Over the last three days I've spent time with my mother and with friends long-standing and brand-new. I've been reminded of the things I've always loved about them, or come to realize their magnificent qualities, in the smallest ways. Waiting semi-patiently in a tiny lobby for a table at a restaurant I've wanted to try forever with my mother. Group high-fiving with friends as we enjoyed an especially successful kitchen adventure. Sharing meals, or cupcakes or a few pitchers of beer. I've been remembering these encounters in a series of moments that don't mean anything but just make me feel happy. Happier than I've been in a while. Happier than maybe I believed I could be while so many other things are so uncertain.
This sense of connection with the people in my life calms my usual anxiety about what I'm doing with my life and if I'm doing it fast enough. Goals are important, (and I have them,) but pausing to enjoy the company of the many, many amazing people around me is also important. Maybe even more so. My inclination to feel like I'm alone or, at least, unforgivably messed up and strange, is beaten back by the affection of these incredible friends and family who seem to like me well enough anyway.
With this sense of elation comes an intense desire to see the best in others. Even President Bush just seems to have some severe Mommy issues. Those idiots who post angry comments on the White House facebook page (please, for the sake of your own sanity, never read those,) are just lonely and desperate and frightened. All of my peers who decided not to vote (even the ones in Washington State who only have to mail an envelope) were.... Ok, that did it, I'm back to my cynical mistrust for all of humanity. (Thanks, young voters.) Some things are actually just inexcusable.
But as my friend today so wisely put it, life is weird. We try to do the best we can, to make the right choices and to find the best in people and to appreciate those we love. The strange and the complicated and the rare moments of contentment just make it all worth it. And while talking heads might try to claim your trip to Indonesia and India as an unforgivable indulgence of a desire to see Diwali celebrations, I would be so much happier if I could believe you were actually relaxing and having fun. Mommy issues or no, President Bush spent most of his time on vacation. I think you've earned a few weeks of physical distance from the frustration of domestic politics. Whenever I'm happy and content and particularly pleased with the people in my life, the one thing I want most is for every one else to feel the same way. That's something that not even the apathetic, fair-weather-activist, youth voters can ruin, either.
Life is weird. Isn't it great?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Lately I've had a number of conversations with friends about the kind of people we want in our lives, and the kind of people we want to be ourselves. It comforts me to know that other people also struggle with their own conceptions of themselves and their desire to see the good even in the deeply flawed. Over the last three days I've spent time with my mother and with friends long-standing and brand-new. I've been reminded of the things I've always loved about them, or come to realize their magnificent qualities, in the smallest ways. Waiting semi-patiently in a tiny lobby for a table at a restaurant I've wanted to try forever with my mother. Group high-fiving with friends as we enjoyed an especially successful kitchen adventure. Sharing meals, or cupcakes or a few pitchers of beer. I've been remembering these encounters in a series of moments that don't mean anything but just make me feel happy. Happier than I've been in a while. Happier than maybe I believed I could be while so many other things are so uncertain.
This sense of connection with the people in my life calms my usual anxiety about what I'm doing with my life and if I'm doing it fast enough. Goals are important, (and I have them,) but pausing to enjoy the company of the many, many amazing people around me is also important. Maybe even more so. My inclination to feel like I'm alone or, at least, unforgivably messed up and strange, is beaten back by the affection of these incredible friends and family who seem to like me well enough anyway.
With this sense of elation comes an intense desire to see the best in others. Even President Bush just seems to have some severe Mommy issues. Those idiots who post angry comments on the White House facebook page (please, for the sake of your own sanity, never read those,) are just lonely and desperate and frightened. All of my peers who decided not to vote (even the ones in Washington State who only have to mail an envelope) were.... Ok, that did it, I'm back to my cynical mistrust for all of humanity. (Thanks, young voters.) Some things are actually just inexcusable.
But as my friend today so wisely put it, life is weird. We try to do the best we can, to make the right choices and to find the best in people and to appreciate those we love. The strange and the complicated and the rare moments of contentment just make it all worth it. And while talking heads might try to claim your trip to Indonesia and India as an unforgivable indulgence of a desire to see Diwali celebrations, I would be so much happier if I could believe you were actually relaxing and having fun. Mommy issues or no, President Bush spent most of his time on vacation. I think you've earned a few weeks of physical distance from the frustration of domestic politics. Whenever I'm happy and content and particularly pleased with the people in my life, the one thing I want most is for every one else to feel the same way. That's something that not even the apathetic, fair-weather-activist, youth voters can ruin, either.
Life is weird. Isn't it great?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, October 15, 2010
Day 288- Lost
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight I thought about writing to you about Bill O'Reilly on The View, or a FOX news reporter claiming "all terrorists are Muslims" or maybe your own administration's heel-dragging on Don't Ask Don't Tell. I probably should write about one of these things, but I've been stuck feeling listless this week, and I just can't summon the inspiration to articulate what I think about any of these stories in an interesting way.
I'm not sure what's wrong, exactly. I seem to have lost the focus and drive that normally get me through. I don't know what it is I'm working for or what will make me happy. The suffering I read about in the news or see in other people is overwhelming. What kind of future can I hope to enjoy when so many people are going through so many bad things?
I've been prone to these moods my whole life. I call it my place of darkness. It isn't that I'm giving up, I'm just recalibrating, I think, trying to gauge what my priorities and needs and goals are, or what they should be. This whole letter-writing project was born out of a similar mood, a desire to speak to power even if my voice went unacknowledged in the cacophony of other voices. I may post these letters, copy them out and mail them to the White House, but I think we both know I'm writing for me more than I'm writing for you. I need to believe the world will get better, that we're all moving through these difficult times toward a brighter future. And maybe these letters are my way of whistling past the graveyard, the haunting fear of failure or of inconsequence that keeps me moving even when I'm not certain why or where I'm headed.
I have to just give myself permission to feel lost. I try not to let hopelessness or aimlessness take over for too long. I'm going to find my sense of purpose again, in a few days or a few weeks or a few months. For now, I think a good night's sleep is better than another hour surfing news sights for some sign of hope.
I hope you have a good weekend.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight I thought about writing to you about Bill O'Reilly on The View, or a FOX news reporter claiming "all terrorists are Muslims" or maybe your own administration's heel-dragging on Don't Ask Don't Tell. I probably should write about one of these things, but I've been stuck feeling listless this week, and I just can't summon the inspiration to articulate what I think about any of these stories in an interesting way.
I'm not sure what's wrong, exactly. I seem to have lost the focus and drive that normally get me through. I don't know what it is I'm working for or what will make me happy. The suffering I read about in the news or see in other people is overwhelming. What kind of future can I hope to enjoy when so many people are going through so many bad things?
I've been prone to these moods my whole life. I call it my place of darkness. It isn't that I'm giving up, I'm just recalibrating, I think, trying to gauge what my priorities and needs and goals are, or what they should be. This whole letter-writing project was born out of a similar mood, a desire to speak to power even if my voice went unacknowledged in the cacophony of other voices. I may post these letters, copy them out and mail them to the White House, but I think we both know I'm writing for me more than I'm writing for you. I need to believe the world will get better, that we're all moving through these difficult times toward a brighter future. And maybe these letters are my way of whistling past the graveyard, the haunting fear of failure or of inconsequence that keeps me moving even when I'm not certain why or where I'm headed.
I have to just give myself permission to feel lost. I try not to let hopelessness or aimlessness take over for too long. I'm going to find my sense of purpose again, in a few days or a few weeks or a few months. For now, I think a good night's sleep is better than another hour surfing news sights for some sign of hope.
I hope you have a good weekend.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Day 276- Roads taken and otherwise
Dear Mr. President,
I'm having one of those weeks where everything in my life is up for questioning. Am I happy? Am I doing the right thing? Am I making the right choices? What are my goals? Maybe it's back-to-school time getting to me, or the overabundance of sentimental movies I've been watching lately. Facing this general uncertainty always inclines me to look back, to evaluate the decision and compromises and mistakes I've made in the past. (It also leads to a lot of baking.) I see old boyfriends and high school classmates getting married, settling down, having children. Sometimes I worry that kind of normal adulthood is just never going to appeal to me. People my age want careers, houses, cars, families. I want something much less tangible. Perhaps my constant need to question the path I'm walking has held me back, slowing my journey and putting me through more emotional turmoil than otherwise necessary. I suspect, however, that I'm just built this way, there's nothing to be done about it.
This letter isn't particularly political. I know people with Real Problems- worries over where their next meal, the new roof, the health insurance, the unemployment benefits, the job or the right to marry their partner will come from, if it comes at all. I'm lucky to be wallowing in a state of mild existential crisis. It will surely pass. And while I may wish I could go back and do a number of things differently, it is far more important to focus on my current situation and try to steer in a better direction. I want to find happiness, and I think that a big part of that, for me, is feeling good about what I do, and that requires a certain amount of constant questioning.
Do you find yourself doing the same thing with your own goals? I can't imagine that you have the luxury of being anywhere near as self-reflective as my lack of significance affords me. The importance of your job simply wouldn't permit it. But surely you have to take stock of things, occasionally, to measure your progress and question your course. Especially given the grim forecast for the midterms and the recent media narrative, I'd imagine you must be seriously considering your Presidency's goals and strategies. While I'm sure that conventional wisdom says you ought to be moving to the center, pandering to the vocal movement of intractable conservatism, I hope that you refuse to listen to it. You can't take back the promises you made in the campaign, or lower expectations before you took office. The only thing left to do is figure out a way to keep those promises and rise to those expectations- something that an ostensibly safe veer toward the center will never allow you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I'm having one of those weeks where everything in my life is up for questioning. Am I happy? Am I doing the right thing? Am I making the right choices? What are my goals? Maybe it's back-to-school time getting to me, or the overabundance of sentimental movies I've been watching lately. Facing this general uncertainty always inclines me to look back, to evaluate the decision and compromises and mistakes I've made in the past. (It also leads to a lot of baking.) I see old boyfriends and high school classmates getting married, settling down, having children. Sometimes I worry that kind of normal adulthood is just never going to appeal to me. People my age want careers, houses, cars, families. I want something much less tangible. Perhaps my constant need to question the path I'm walking has held me back, slowing my journey and putting me through more emotional turmoil than otherwise necessary. I suspect, however, that I'm just built this way, there's nothing to be done about it.
This letter isn't particularly political. I know people with Real Problems- worries over where their next meal, the new roof, the health insurance, the unemployment benefits, the job or the right to marry their partner will come from, if it comes at all. I'm lucky to be wallowing in a state of mild existential crisis. It will surely pass. And while I may wish I could go back and do a number of things differently, it is far more important to focus on my current situation and try to steer in a better direction. I want to find happiness, and I think that a big part of that, for me, is feeling good about what I do, and that requires a certain amount of constant questioning.
Do you find yourself doing the same thing with your own goals? I can't imagine that you have the luxury of being anywhere near as self-reflective as my lack of significance affords me. The importance of your job simply wouldn't permit it. But surely you have to take stock of things, occasionally, to measure your progress and question your course. Especially given the grim forecast for the midterms and the recent media narrative, I'd imagine you must be seriously considering your Presidency's goals and strategies. While I'm sure that conventional wisdom says you ought to be moving to the center, pandering to the vocal movement of intractable conservatism, I hope that you refuse to listen to it. You can't take back the promises you made in the campaign, or lower expectations before you took office. The only thing left to do is figure out a way to keep those promises and rise to those expectations- something that an ostensibly safe veer toward the center will never allow you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Day 86
Dear Mr. President,
Thank you for the student loan reform passed by congress this week. This legislation will directly affect me and my ability to pay for my education, and, even more importantly, will ensure that future generations do not face the same difficulties I have in paying for school. I appreciate that you were willing to take on the powerful bank lobbies who opposed this, and in doing so have demonstrated to the American people the value their government places on higher education.
How we spend our money says a lot about what we value. As a student, one who'd been raised to achieve as much as I could and instilled with the belief that a college education was something I needed to succeed in life, I was prevented from completing this education because of my financial circumstances. It isn't that my family is poor, in fact we were comfortably middle class. The current financial aid system is largely base on financial need, and until I turned 24, that meant taking my parents' income into consideration. I was unable to pay for my education myself, my mother struggled with debt, and my father was unwilling to contribute to my education. When I came to this realization, I had to wonder if my parents, especially my father, valued my education as much as they'd claimed. If they had, why hadn't they saved for it? Why was my father unwilling to sacrifice, as so many of my classmates parents did, some degree of luxury for the betterment of his children? Why were they unwilling to back their words with tangible support?
I think the federal financial aid system needs to be re-examined in many ways. A student's eligibility for financial aid should not hinge so completely upon their parents finances and willingness to contribute. Even as a 22-year-old living across the country from my family, supporting myself entirely on a near-minimum wage job, I was ineligible for need-based financial aid because of the incomes of my parents. By this point in my life, I would not even want to depend upon their financial support, yet it is assumed by the FAFSA that I would necessarily do so. How is that fair? I'm not saying I wanted my education given to me, I'm more than willing to work for it, but easing the burden on students from middle class families, like myself, would go a long way toward demonstrating how much this country values higher education for all. For families that don't qualify for need-based aid, could there be an increase in merit-based federal grants? Or even a system through which students could gain designation as financially independent without having to marry, have children of their own, or be legally emancipated as high schoolers? You say that you want to increase the number of college graduates; I think that an overhaul of the way a student's aid eligibility is calculated must be considered if your goal is ever to be reached.
Thank you again for your work reforming the student loan system. When I do finally graduate, Mr. President, it will be in no small part due to the assistance of my government, and it makes me proud to live in a country that so tangibly demonstrates its commitment to education.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thank you for the student loan reform passed by congress this week. This legislation will directly affect me and my ability to pay for my education, and, even more importantly, will ensure that future generations do not face the same difficulties I have in paying for school. I appreciate that you were willing to take on the powerful bank lobbies who opposed this, and in doing so have demonstrated to the American people the value their government places on higher education.
How we spend our money says a lot about what we value. As a student, one who'd been raised to achieve as much as I could and instilled with the belief that a college education was something I needed to succeed in life, I was prevented from completing this education because of my financial circumstances. It isn't that my family is poor, in fact we were comfortably middle class. The current financial aid system is largely base on financial need, and until I turned 24, that meant taking my parents' income into consideration. I was unable to pay for my education myself, my mother struggled with debt, and my father was unwilling to contribute to my education. When I came to this realization, I had to wonder if my parents, especially my father, valued my education as much as they'd claimed. If they had, why hadn't they saved for it? Why was my father unwilling to sacrifice, as so many of my classmates parents did, some degree of luxury for the betterment of his children? Why were they unwilling to back their words with tangible support?
I think the federal financial aid system needs to be re-examined in many ways. A student's eligibility for financial aid should not hinge so completely upon their parents finances and willingness to contribute. Even as a 22-year-old living across the country from my family, supporting myself entirely on a near-minimum wage job, I was ineligible for need-based financial aid because of the incomes of my parents. By this point in my life, I would not even want to depend upon their financial support, yet it is assumed by the FAFSA that I would necessarily do so. How is that fair? I'm not saying I wanted my education given to me, I'm more than willing to work for it, but easing the burden on students from middle class families, like myself, would go a long way toward demonstrating how much this country values higher education for all. For families that don't qualify for need-based aid, could there be an increase in merit-based federal grants? Or even a system through which students could gain designation as financially independent without having to marry, have children of their own, or be legally emancipated as high schoolers? You say that you want to increase the number of college graduates; I think that an overhaul of the way a student's aid eligibility is calculated must be considered if your goal is ever to be reached.
Thank you again for your work reforming the student loan system. When I do finally graduate, Mr. President, it will be in no small part due to the assistance of my government, and it makes me proud to live in a country that so tangibly demonstrates its commitment to education.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Day 77- the 5 year plan
Dear Mr President,
A few days ago my boss called me in for a conversation that should have been a simple 10 minute discussion and turned into an offer a promotion. I'm incredibly fortunate, especially in this economic climate, to be struggling to choose between the new job I'd resigned for a few weeks ago, or remaining with the my current company and be promoted. Immediately after talking with her, I sent out for advice from as many of my family and friends as I could. Their answers came back, begging more questions. "Where do you want to end up?" "What do you want for yourself in 5 years?"
This long-term planning has never been a strength of mine. I often feel as though I'm putting one foot in front of the other, taking one breath at a time, as though planning an entire day ahead is too much assumption. What do I want to be in 5 years? Happy. There are a number of concepts caught up in that; for instance, I don't think my happiness will be tied up in the amount of money I have, but I do think it will be directly related to how good I feel about my life. Am I helping others? Am I healthy? Do I have time for important things in my life? My head tells me that the quickest route to this is a high-paying promotion that will allow me the kind of freedom that financial security seems to promise; my instincts tell me that I need less stress, less chaos, that increasing my income will only increase my desire to make more money.
The more I considered this question, the more I realized I don't know, for certain, what happiness looks like. I've spent so much of my adolescence and young adulthood deeply unhappy for reasons I can't always access. I've been lonely and afraid and tired all the time. I've been paralyzed by big decisions, and avoid them as much as possible. I have lately looked around to take stock of my existence and found much of my behavior to be about survival, not happiness. Even my consideration for these two jobs is based more on how it will upset or please others, because I have no idea what will make me happy. How have I lost touch with myself so completely? I know I'm not the only one, and I know this because the self-help section of my bookstore is continuously full of bestsellers.
This can only lead me to believe that we don't, as a society, understand happiness as well as we should. Is it a matter of having lost sight of it, somewhere, or of having yet to find it at all? I don't know. I know that nothing I can earn or buy or consume or even vote for is going to secure my happiness. I know that whichever job I choose, I will wonder long at what the other would have offered, and will try to continue to make myself question what the future I want looks like, so that I'll know it, should I ever have the opportunity to choose it.
For now, I think a good night's sleep is the best choice I can make, with the hope that morning brings with it a small measure of clarity. I know that the next few days will not be easy for you, Mr. President, and I hope you know that the support and best hopes of so many Americans will be with you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
A few days ago my boss called me in for a conversation that should have been a simple 10 minute discussion and turned into an offer a promotion. I'm incredibly fortunate, especially in this economic climate, to be struggling to choose between the new job I'd resigned for a few weeks ago, or remaining with the my current company and be promoted. Immediately after talking with her, I sent out for advice from as many of my family and friends as I could. Their answers came back, begging more questions. "Where do you want to end up?" "What do you want for yourself in 5 years?"
This long-term planning has never been a strength of mine. I often feel as though I'm putting one foot in front of the other, taking one breath at a time, as though planning an entire day ahead is too much assumption. What do I want to be in 5 years? Happy. There are a number of concepts caught up in that; for instance, I don't think my happiness will be tied up in the amount of money I have, but I do think it will be directly related to how good I feel about my life. Am I helping others? Am I healthy? Do I have time for important things in my life? My head tells me that the quickest route to this is a high-paying promotion that will allow me the kind of freedom that financial security seems to promise; my instincts tell me that I need less stress, less chaos, that increasing my income will only increase my desire to make more money.
The more I considered this question, the more I realized I don't know, for certain, what happiness looks like. I've spent so much of my adolescence and young adulthood deeply unhappy for reasons I can't always access. I've been lonely and afraid and tired all the time. I've been paralyzed by big decisions, and avoid them as much as possible. I have lately looked around to take stock of my existence and found much of my behavior to be about survival, not happiness. Even my consideration for these two jobs is based more on how it will upset or please others, because I have no idea what will make me happy. How have I lost touch with myself so completely? I know I'm not the only one, and I know this because the self-help section of my bookstore is continuously full of bestsellers.
This can only lead me to believe that we don't, as a society, understand happiness as well as we should. Is it a matter of having lost sight of it, somewhere, or of having yet to find it at all? I don't know. I know that nothing I can earn or buy or consume or even vote for is going to secure my happiness. I know that whichever job I choose, I will wonder long at what the other would have offered, and will try to continue to make myself question what the future I want looks like, so that I'll know it, should I ever have the opportunity to choose it.
For now, I think a good night's sleep is the best choice I can make, with the hope that morning brings with it a small measure of clarity. I know that the next few days will not be easy for you, Mr. President, and I hope you know that the support and best hopes of so many Americans will be with you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Day 68- Courage & Consequence
Dear Mr. President,
As an author, I'm sure you appreciate the challenges of writing honestly, and well, about yourself and your own experiences. Many authors attempt to do this, but I think very few succeed. Today, another example of such an attempt goes on sale. Last night, (really, only a few hours ago,) I was putting out Karl Rove's new book for display. Mr. Rove's book, Courage and Consequence was bound to pique my curiosity. For one thing, the title suggests that Karl Rove, in an attempt to broaden the appeal of his book, targeted the "Jane Austen" demographic, a group of readers rarely sought after by the publishers of political memoirs. Additionally, the blurb on the back of the book describes Rove's as, "a life spent in political combat and service to country, no matter the costs." I'll grant that as Deputy Chief of Staff, Mr. Rove served his country; the language used in the book, however, seem to indicate that Mr. Rove believes he has sacrificed himself for his country, somehow, and I fail to see the evidence supporting such a contention.
For the time being, as I am still a seller of books, I believe that every one, even Karl Rove, has a right to have their story told. No matter what my profession, I will always oppose censoring or suppression, even the voices of those that I disagree with. The smug, self-satisfied, extreme close-up of Mr. Rove's face on the cover of this book, however, tests this conviction more than any author since Robert Spencer. Whenever books like this come out, where the author is so clearly trying to retell a familiar story in a way that casts them in a more forgivable role, I always wonder how many minds they really feel they will change. Most of the people who buy this book will already agree with everything Mr. Rove has to say. A significant portion of rest will only be picking it up to find their name in the index. I can't imagine Rove will win over many skeptics.
If anything, I am most surprised at my own reaction to the publication of this book. I get angry, fiercely angry at the account Mr. Rove gives, casting President Bush as the misunderstood hero. I think I am angry because it doesn't seem fair that the conservative spin machine has extended so far into my bookstore, instead of keeping to the talk radio and TV news as I feel it should. I think I am angry because I am afraid that I might not be completely right, that Mr. Rove may have reasonable, even valuable perspectives on things I am unwilling to hear, as they may threaten my own beliefs. I'm not sure what the most productive way of dealing with these feelings might be, but for now I've settled with photocopying his face off of the cover and plastering it all over my boss's office. Mature, it is not, but at least I feel a bit better.
After your own time in the White House is finished, will you write another memoir, Mr. President? You seem to be more inclined toward writing as an end in its own, which is likely why your books sell so well and are so enjoyable to read. If you do, I hope you are able to bring the frankness of your first two books to your reflections on life in the White House.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
As an author, I'm sure you appreciate the challenges of writing honestly, and well, about yourself and your own experiences. Many authors attempt to do this, but I think very few succeed. Today, another example of such an attempt goes on sale. Last night, (really, only a few hours ago,) I was putting out Karl Rove's new book for display. Mr. Rove's book, Courage and Consequence was bound to pique my curiosity. For one thing, the title suggests that Karl Rove, in an attempt to broaden the appeal of his book, targeted the "Jane Austen" demographic, a group of readers rarely sought after by the publishers of political memoirs. Additionally, the blurb on the back of the book describes Rove's as, "a life spent in political combat and service to country, no matter the costs." I'll grant that as Deputy Chief of Staff, Mr. Rove served his country; the language used in the book, however, seem to indicate that Mr. Rove believes he has sacrificed himself for his country, somehow, and I fail to see the evidence supporting such a contention.
For the time being, as I am still a seller of books, I believe that every one, even Karl Rove, has a right to have their story told. No matter what my profession, I will always oppose censoring or suppression, even the voices of those that I disagree with. The smug, self-satisfied, extreme close-up of Mr. Rove's face on the cover of this book, however, tests this conviction more than any author since Robert Spencer. Whenever books like this come out, where the author is so clearly trying to retell a familiar story in a way that casts them in a more forgivable role, I always wonder how many minds they really feel they will change. Most of the people who buy this book will already agree with everything Mr. Rove has to say. A significant portion of rest will only be picking it up to find their name in the index. I can't imagine Rove will win over many skeptics.
If anything, I am most surprised at my own reaction to the publication of this book. I get angry, fiercely angry at the account Mr. Rove gives, casting President Bush as the misunderstood hero. I think I am angry because it doesn't seem fair that the conservative spin machine has extended so far into my bookstore, instead of keeping to the talk radio and TV news as I feel it should. I think I am angry because I am afraid that I might not be completely right, that Mr. Rove may have reasonable, even valuable perspectives on things I am unwilling to hear, as they may threaten my own beliefs. I'm not sure what the most productive way of dealing with these feelings might be, but for now I've settled with photocopying his face off of the cover and plastering it all over my boss's office. Mature, it is not, but at least I feel a bit better.
After your own time in the White House is finished, will you write another memoir, Mr. President? You seem to be more inclined toward writing as an end in its own, which is likely why your books sell so well and are so enjoyable to read. If you do, I hope you are able to bring the frankness of your first two books to your reflections on life in the White House.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Day 61- 21st Century Education
Today's letter is in response to the question posed by the White House to the public, What does 21st century education mean to you?
Dear Mr. President,
As the 21st century was beginning, I was only starting High School. Sadly, I feel my own education was more a product of the previous century, and I think this has impacted not only my ability to compete for jobs, but also to feel comfortable moving in circles with those who have been properly prepared for the current educational demands. Education in the 21st century must, of course, include competency and even fluency with modern technology; it must expose students to cultures, languages, and lifestyles other than their own; the educational experience ought to include strong emphasis on science and math, without sacrificing any of the liberal arts foundation.
Computers are such an integral part of our daily lives that no student educated in this country ought to leave school without being familiar, comfortable, and confident using computers, the internet, word processing and document presentation, and even basic programming. Ideally, this would occur well before college and high school. I don't feel that my own educational experience failed to prepare me for a world that requires computer literacy, but I owe that almost entirely to the Gates foundation, as my school benefited from the generosity of Mr. Gates's commitment to his home state. I'm not sure that this is true for all of my generation, especially those who come from families unable to afford computers in their own home, or who lived in school districts unable to afford new computers or the instructors to properly utilize them.
One area where I was not so fortunate was exposure to foreign languages. Most students have the option of taking Spanish, French or German in High School. If they are very lucky, Japanese or Russian are also options. Mr. President, we may be lucky enough to live in a time where the entirety of the rest of the world clamors to learn English, but this does us more harm than good if we allow it to make us complacent about educating our children in other languages. Spanish ought to be taught from a much earlier age, along side English in elementary and middle schools. In high school, students should have a wider variety of languages to choose from, and an incentive should be offered to encourage schools to offer languages more relevant to the modern economy. (While it is impossible, even incorrect, to argue the merits of one language over another, it is difficult to deny that the modern student would have a wider variety of career options with a working knowledge of Arabic, Hindi, or Chinese, rather than German.) Multilingual students will not only be better able to communicate with and understand non- Americans, they will posses the skills to more easily learn new languages in the future, making them more adaptable.
Education in the 21st Century must be about more than just learning about other cultures and lifestyles, it must include practical exposure. I feel a greater emphasis should be put on travel and exchange programs, as well as service learning. Students should be required to do service work in their communities as a part of their education. Volunteer work is a great way to gain experience for later careers, but it also fosters a sense of responsibility for one's community. Tying volunteer work closely to education can illuminate areas of study in ways that classroom learning alone cannot.
Math and science are another area in which early exposure- well before high school- will help our schools produce more competent graduates. Liberal Arts educations provide essential critical thinking skills and ought not to be devalued, but practicality demands that we increase our emphasis on math and science if Americans are to remain competitive in the Modern economy.
In my view, education in the 21st century must be about connectivity. Our world is getting smaller and we must eager and enthusiastic about the things that allow us to connect to others- common languages like math, science and technology, as well as empathy and understanding, a willingness to learn new languages, to experience and adapt to the cultures of those who are not like us, wherever they may be found.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
As the 21st century was beginning, I was only starting High School. Sadly, I feel my own education was more a product of the previous century, and I think this has impacted not only my ability to compete for jobs, but also to feel comfortable moving in circles with those who have been properly prepared for the current educational demands. Education in the 21st century must, of course, include competency and even fluency with modern technology; it must expose students to cultures, languages, and lifestyles other than their own; the educational experience ought to include strong emphasis on science and math, without sacrificing any of the liberal arts foundation.
Computers are such an integral part of our daily lives that no student educated in this country ought to leave school without being familiar, comfortable, and confident using computers, the internet, word processing and document presentation, and even basic programming. Ideally, this would occur well before college and high school. I don't feel that my own educational experience failed to prepare me for a world that requires computer literacy, but I owe that almost entirely to the Gates foundation, as my school benefited from the generosity of Mr. Gates's commitment to his home state. I'm not sure that this is true for all of my generation, especially those who come from families unable to afford computers in their own home, or who lived in school districts unable to afford new computers or the instructors to properly utilize them.
One area where I was not so fortunate was exposure to foreign languages. Most students have the option of taking Spanish, French or German in High School. If they are very lucky, Japanese or Russian are also options. Mr. President, we may be lucky enough to live in a time where the entirety of the rest of the world clamors to learn English, but this does us more harm than good if we allow it to make us complacent about educating our children in other languages. Spanish ought to be taught from a much earlier age, along side English in elementary and middle schools. In high school, students should have a wider variety of languages to choose from, and an incentive should be offered to encourage schools to offer languages more relevant to the modern economy. (While it is impossible, even incorrect, to argue the merits of one language over another, it is difficult to deny that the modern student would have a wider variety of career options with a working knowledge of Arabic, Hindi, or Chinese, rather than German.) Multilingual students will not only be better able to communicate with and understand non- Americans, they will posses the skills to more easily learn new languages in the future, making them more adaptable.
Education in the 21st Century must be about more than just learning about other cultures and lifestyles, it must include practical exposure. I feel a greater emphasis should be put on travel and exchange programs, as well as service learning. Students should be required to do service work in their communities as a part of their education. Volunteer work is a great way to gain experience for later careers, but it also fosters a sense of responsibility for one's community. Tying volunteer work closely to education can illuminate areas of study in ways that classroom learning alone cannot.
Math and science are another area in which early exposure- well before high school- will help our schools produce more competent graduates. Liberal Arts educations provide essential critical thinking skills and ought not to be devalued, but practicality demands that we increase our emphasis on math and science if Americans are to remain competitive in the Modern economy.
In my view, education in the 21st century must be about connectivity. Our world is getting smaller and we must eager and enthusiastic about the things that allow us to connect to others- common languages like math, science and technology, as well as empathy and understanding, a willingness to learn new languages, to experience and adapt to the cultures of those who are not like us, wherever they may be found.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Day 35
Dear Mr. President,
Today I'm watching my nephew, Asher, who will be two years old in May. He saw my copy of The Audacity of Hope and pointed to your face on the cover. I tried to teach him how to say "President Obama", but so far all he's got is "bama." I try to think about the America that Asher will know, if he'll come of age just as lost and disillusioned as my generation has, or if he will face an entirely new set of challenges. I appreciate the discussion of what we're leaving for the next generation- the deficit, clean energy, new industry, and the environmental impact. I know you have young children, yourself, and will therefor need no personal face to remind you of how important your legacy will be. Just know that there's a little boy in Seattle trying to master his ABC's, refine his utensil-wielding skills, and say his President's name. He's not worried about having clean water, or job security, living in a safer, more peaceful world, but his aunt is.
The problem with me is that I may have gotten the hang of my ABC's, but I still don't know what I'm supposed to be doing to improve things. I work for a corporate bookstore. I enjoy the work immensely, I love reading and recommending books, and the community of knowledge that my coworkers and customers create when we talk about reading. That being said, I'm not wild about many of the business practices of my company, and our future prospects aren't great, as more of the market is being taken over by online retailers and e-books. I've tentatively started to look for new jobs, sent in a few resumes, but wasn't generally troubled by the lack of response. Until this week. I've gotten a couple of solid prospects, positions with better salaries, better benefits, and better long-term opportunities. Unfortunately, none of them are with bookstores. I'm torn between doing work I love for a company I don't, or working for better pay & better conditions, doing something I'm less than passionate about.
I think, whichever job I take, I'm only treading water, so to speak, while I continue my education. Once I finish school, I'll have to push myself to discover my potential; find my purpose, define my goals. Right now it's OK to be a sales girl or a receptionist or a barista, because later I'll find a "real job." Or so I tell myself. The trouble is, i don't have the answers, or even a clear idea of the right questions, about my future. For now, I get by, reminding myself to be content that I have a job, at all. Still, sometimes I wish my ambitions were easier to quantify.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today I'm watching my nephew, Asher, who will be two years old in May. He saw my copy of The Audacity of Hope and pointed to your face on the cover. I tried to teach him how to say "President Obama", but so far all he's got is "bama." I try to think about the America that Asher will know, if he'll come of age just as lost and disillusioned as my generation has, or if he will face an entirely new set of challenges. I appreciate the discussion of what we're leaving for the next generation- the deficit, clean energy, new industry, and the environmental impact. I know you have young children, yourself, and will therefor need no personal face to remind you of how important your legacy will be. Just know that there's a little boy in Seattle trying to master his ABC's, refine his utensil-wielding skills, and say his President's name. He's not worried about having clean water, or job security, living in a safer, more peaceful world, but his aunt is.
The problem with me is that I may have gotten the hang of my ABC's, but I still don't know what I'm supposed to be doing to improve things. I work for a corporate bookstore. I enjoy the work immensely, I love reading and recommending books, and the community of knowledge that my coworkers and customers create when we talk about reading. That being said, I'm not wild about many of the business practices of my company, and our future prospects aren't great, as more of the market is being taken over by online retailers and e-books. I've tentatively started to look for new jobs, sent in a few resumes, but wasn't generally troubled by the lack of response. Until this week. I've gotten a couple of solid prospects, positions with better salaries, better benefits, and better long-term opportunities. Unfortunately, none of them are with bookstores. I'm torn between doing work I love for a company I don't, or working for better pay & better conditions, doing something I'm less than passionate about.
I think, whichever job I take, I'm only treading water, so to speak, while I continue my education. Once I finish school, I'll have to push myself to discover my potential; find my purpose, define my goals. Right now it's OK to be a sales girl or a receptionist or a barista, because later I'll find a "real job." Or so I tell myself. The trouble is, i don't have the answers, or even a clear idea of the right questions, about my future. For now, I get by, reminding myself to be content that I have a job, at all. Still, sometimes I wish my ambitions were easier to quantify.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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