Description: Photo of myself taken from 2017 while reading Jane Eyre
I remember my 17-year-old self, busy with the hectic season of college applications, early FAFSA enrollments, enduring workshops for resume structuring, and just overwhelmed with the idea of life after high school. Rushing towards the end of my teenage years brought a huge weight to my prospect of adulthood. And an overpowering absence of passion looms over the anxiety of surmounting to nothing. I had nothing to look forward to. I could not seek a career that would ignite a wonder besides the limited degree programs at my local college. It dawned on me how misery was knocking on my door. I was immensely afraid.
I prepared for the worst inevitable case until my senior year of high school. Then, what felt like years of uncertainty reached the tunnel’s light when a specific teacher introduced an aspect that changed my mindset forever. That feature centers on the importance of the classics; at the cusp of adulthood, a course somehow would influence the path I now pursue with immense ambition. Through classic literature, a new purpose was bestowed against the daunting stages of the real world.
In the first week of senior year, I remembered having mixed emotions about my last year as a teenager. Although this would be the most laid-back year, and many events would consist of ceremonies and celebrations, I couldn’t help but contemplate my life after the parties. This celebration of the great beginnings and opportunities “out there waiting for you” somehow felt like an empty positivity looming over the horizon. Of course, I did not obtain that idea, but I was intuitive enough to know the empty promises awaiting me. And to top it off with an uncertain career path or major, I could not imagine enduring an independent life without dwelling on some moments of insanity.
While relying on my hopeless optimism, I was sent to the principal’s office to revise my school schedule due to a technical difficulty. While discussing the possible options, she offered a place at an AP English Honors course they have recently launched. Since many of my friends decided to take the course, I concurred with the same decision. So, my initial motive to take this course was based on peer pressure. However, I hadn’t foreseen how this class would become the beginning of some epiphanic realization.
A popular English teacher named Ms. Antenille was the instructor for this course. Like any other class, I expected to endure mundane lessons and hope to achieve a passing grade at the end of the year. But on the first week, while reading Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, something awakened when we discussed its contents. The literary profoundness of Coleridge’s metaphorical artistry was meticulously guided through Ms. Antenille’s lectures, offering me a perspective I had never known about literature. I sensed this surreal epiphany of how a writer precedent of our time was able to demonstrate an experience or idea that humanity can universally resonate with. It dawned on me how reading was more than something I would indulge in as a hobby. After that class session, I remember my classmates seated together at lunchtime, resuming our discussion because we were immensely invested in the topic. At the same time, I was envisioning a new form of inspiration for my future.
Fast forward to finals week, we prepared for the last examination given for this course. As I moved through the questions, the last section became the climactic part of my origin story. The final question was a short essay portion relating to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. If I’m not mistaken, the question for this section consists of the following: Who is the true monster, Victor, the creature, or society? I’m sure many of you would have diverse perspectives, but the question somehow took me aback because of that diversity itself. I understood each point of view, and how their features associated with some embodiment of monstrosity, so I felt conflicted on which outlook to delve into. I initially went with the creature because I worried more about the time limit, and my explanation was easier for this character. Once I finished brainstorming and creating the outline, it was time to draft out my ideas. But somehow, a small subconscious coerces me to review the question one more time. I look through each choice again, and this subconscious radiates a strong, magnetizing impulse towards Victor.
I felt that spark. That eureka moment that startles you, but is less detrimental. A blend of candid shock and pure joy surges through your body but invokes no unsettling aftertaste. With that invigorating yet gradual growth of rejuvenating clarity, I was determined to risk against time and write something profound. In the end, I chose Victor.
I don’t remember the exact words I wrote, but I believed it pertained to the protagonist going against the laws of nature. Something about what Victor had done embodied great evil; how he transformed his grief into a dark and inhumane motive, only for him to abandon his creation and induce this being towards a life of unwarranted suffering and malignancy. After time ran out and our finals officially ended, the same classmates discussed which character each of us chose for that essay portion. I suddenly felt this sense of bittersweetness towards our moment of reflection. How time has passed since we initially talked about Coleridge’s epic on our first day, and now we spend our last moments still animated with the lessons Ms. Antenille delivered. However, I still doubt my future, slowly creeping towards graduation.
Days before we spent our last week preparing for the ceremony, Ms. Antenille decided to have one more class session to give back the results from the final exam. One moment that really stuck with me was when she shared a video of Charlie Chaplin’s iconic speech from “The Great Dictator.” When Chaplin delivered his words, the silence in the room held his performance in reverence. Amid the duties and worries we had to consider after this class, it felt like our consciousness decided to stop and listen with our utmost attention. Once the video ended, Ms. Antenille went up to the front of the class, with this unusual calm and solemn disposition, to explicate the significance of Chaplin’s speech. Then, she goes and shares her own thoughts about our future. I don’t remember much of what she accurately stated. But I remember feeling sad that our “easiest parts of life” would soon end. Her speech somehow implied an encouragement to live on with that ignited passion we once had on our first day of class, to endure life with that unwavering passion to learn continuously. It gave me hope, and I teared up because it was the last meaningful guidance I would get from one of the finest instructors I have encountered.
Once we left the classroom, I embraced the resolve that finally reached my heart. I fully understood the path I desired to embark in honor of a mentor that ignited the spark. I almost forgot about the test result we got back from her, and I decided to run through the corrections she made. When I landed on the last question, the essay portion, she provided a short message at the bottom.
Unfortunately, I lost the paper. So I cannot provide an accurate message.
But I could summarize the words she addressed because they stuck with me until now. She explained how proud she was to see me improve throughout the year in her course and knew ever since that I had the potential to demonstrate more beyond my diffidence. She wishes me the best in my future endeavors and hopes I will continue proving to others of my capabilities. From that moment on, I knew that in my next chapter in life, I needed a path that would nourish a new-found passion for literature.
Reflecting on these memorable moments in my life, I realized how the aspects of classical literature greatly influenced this ‘butterfly effect' on my career path. An educator who taught with passion manifested a new conception of life that I took with the same enthusiasm, all because it enhanced the experiences I perceived in my present state. Classical literature has this density in its language, which strangely correlates to the labyrinthine structure of my thoughts. A classical piece can articulate the ideas a modern novel would outrightly declare in its artistic prose. But somehow, the precedent author entices me with its elaborate and meticulous demonstration. With a language uncommonly utilized in a casual manner, it becomes this intriguing riddle my mind compels to delve into.
Along with its intricacy, the idea of classical literature sustaining its relevance becomes another essential aspect. Although this novel and author existed in an era that deems ancient and unfathomable, to endure against the test times— using experiences universal to all generations of humanity— poses unimaginable for a mere human to succeed by only using pen and paper. We resonate with several philosophies of life. We empathize with their inevitable circumstances and how our humanness reacts to them (etc., love, death, suffering, injustice). Despite the distance of lifestyles and generational influences, the universal relation of human experience makes classical novels a primal breed of their own.
It seems evident how literature influenced my desire to seek knowledge through this path. After obtaining my English degree, it was certainly fulfilling to attain the goal I had long aspired to achieve since high school. Seeing how far classical literature has impacted my path made me realize this decision equated to my sense of contentment. The ability to have an ambition, and perceive tomorrow knowing you have something to look forward to, became the driving force to being a book blogger amidst an unprecedented time. I still have a long way to go; I am aware of the vast knowledge that awaits my premature wisdom. But because of a teacher that guided me to one form of happiness, it becomes compelling to accept that literature will always be there. And it will always be a path that I’ll choose.
Comments