The Crippling Vanity of Academic Success
Illustration by Meghan Zhang
What gives you confidence? Is it your appearance? Is it your artistic or athletic talents? Maybe it’s your humour? For many, the security we possess as young adults stems from a personal passion or an aspect of our identity. However, my confidence over the years has largely rooted itself within the numbers and letters given to me by my academic instructors. Whether it be my ninth-grade report cards or my second-year exam marks, the value I placed on myself was dangerously determined by my performance in school.
To provide context, the complexities I have around my self-esteem can be traced back to elementary school, a time when I spontaneously discovered the fulfillment of receiving a high grade on an English essay. The realization that succeeding in school would not only build a positive future for myself but also boost my sense of confidence quickly became the driving force of my life. By the time I reached high school, what was once a mere motivation would creep its way into my identity.
As an introvert, I would often observe the people around me and analyze them according to their talents and passions. Some were amazing at paintings, others at sports, and many at simply socializing and partying. These observations would then enable me to ask vital questions about myself: What am I good at? What aspects of my identity can I use to fuel my confidence? I hastily concluded that the most valuable aspect of my existence as a young teenager was my academic passion.
On paper, this may not appear to be a negative development, however, the placement of one’s value in academic success can be a slippery slope to navigate. On one hand, this newfound pressure pushed me to prioritize my performance in school rather than any other specific hobbies or skills. I still remember going to our local library almost every day in twelfth grade and staying there until it closed, just so I could work on as much of my schoolwork as possible. This became a regular part of my routine, not only because I love to be around books, but also because I knew it was a space that stimulated my most confident characteristics. This self-importance that I placed into my academics was only further validated in November 2022, when I was offered a Principal’s Scholarship to Queen’s University thanks to my overall average. Despite my obsession with essays and grades already being debilitating, this moment acted as a catalyst for the total reshaping of my sense of identity.
Thus begins the necessary analyses of my unflattering and unbecoming moments due to this desperation for scholarly validation. One such moment was in my twelfth-grade English class, a course that relied heavily on the preparation of notes prior to in-class discussions. On one of these days, I asked my teacher to look at my work and decide whether he felt I had done enough. A concerned look appeared on his face as he told me that I had been unsuccessful in doing enough to effectively participate in discussion. Most people would just shrug this off and focus on doing better next time, however, this humbling critique made me question whether I was truly an adequate student.
As a teenager, I had not yet developed a clear idea of who I was as a person, ultimately causing me to ground my image in the “introverted book-smart" archetype. Constantly bringing up my love for school, writing, and the handful of teachers that favoured me, I desperately tried to build my entire social role around being the “smart friend”, which made me more confident in my existence as an adolescent. I needed to be the intelligent one. I needed to be the educated one. I needed to be the one with the best grades. If I fail at becoming those, then what else do I bring to the table?
In retrospect, I have developed a much more nuanced view of this experience than I may have had a couple of years ago. While I still tend to cling to these sources of confidence at times, by looking elsewhere for personal fulfillment I have developed a much clearer sense of identity rooted in my friendships, love for art, and other romantic ideals. I sincerely hope that anyone else who is currently struggling or has struggled with the crushing weight of academic success can somehow discover they are worth more than just numbers on a page.