Why I’m learning to stop letting my grades determine my happiness

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved school. I’ve never turned in an assignment late, I’ve studied for every test I’ve ever written, I’m dedicated to extracurricular involvement, and I always make sure to hand in my best work, no matter what. I take pride in my schoolwork, but I have one fatal flaw: I have a dangerous habit of pushing myself beyond my limits because I am constantly seeking the sense of satisfaction and achievement that is derived from academic success.

In all likelihood, the reason I value academics so highly is due to the emphasis on education in my household growing up. My mother is a schoolteacher, and she has always made it very clear that school is the number one priority. She’s has taught me a lot over the years, and I’m grateful for the discipline and attitude towards education that was instilled upon me from a young age. However, it wasn’t until I started university that I realized to which extent I base my self-worth on my academic success, and that I understood why that mindset is detrimental to both my mental health and my self-esteem.

Academic institutions reinforce a very specific image of what success looks like. From very early on in our academic careers, students are put under a lot of pressure to perform well academically, while also playing an active role in student life and extracurricular activities. This stressful balancing act begins as early as high school, when students are expected to do well in school, get involved with school clubs, and complete a minimum of 40 volunteer hours just to graduate. Not to mention, many students must also balance a part-time job on top of that in order to save up for a post-secondary education.

This pressure only intensifies once you actually begin working towards your post-secondary degree. During my own first year, I placed expectations on myself that were unreasonably high and, in the process, my life became a dangerous balancing act. I juggled academics, extracurricular activities, and a social life, all while convincing myself that a 4.0 GPA was what I needed in order to feel accomplished. When faced with exams and assignment deadlines, I would often forego eating and sleeping in favour of completing my schoolwork; I found it difficult to focus on anything else.

This approach is both unhealthy and completely unsustainable. My tendency to obsess over perfecting my schoolwork prevents me from leaving anything to the last minute. However, because university is such an overwhelming environment both academically and extracurricular-wise, it’s not always possible to start assignments a week or two before they’re due.

This greatly affected my sleeping habits, too. Often I would lie awake at night thinking about all of my unfinished assignments and pending responsibilities, even if they were still days and sometimes weeks away.

Midway through the school year, I received a poor grade in my first-year English class. I spent weeks preparing arguments and writing drafts for an essay I was writing on a book that I loved. I visited my professor during office hours on several occasions, and I read over my paper until I had it practically memorised. I felt great about it and I submitted the essay with complete confidence. A few weeks later my TA handed them back to us and, to my horror, I had barely passed. I was devastated. I began to entertain a cycle of negative thoughts that amplified my anxiety, and I convinced myself that I didn’t even belong in university.

Once the initial shock wore off, I began to accept the situation and acknowledged my mistakes. I put things into perspective. I recognized that this wasn’t my best work, and so I asked myself: what can I learn from this experience?

I realized that one bad grade does not shape my entire university experience, and it does not represent me or my level of intelligence in any way. I stopped letting my shortcomings have so much power over me, and I used this misstep to actually work towards improving my writing.

As I enter my second year, I’m learning to accept that it is impossible to be the best at everything, and that it’s completely unreasonable for me to put that expectation on myself. No matter which path you decide on once you graduate from high school, this time represents a period of tremendous growth. It’s all very overwhelming, but what I understand now is that exhaustion and starvation are not normal symptoms of being a college or university student. This year I’m focusing on establishing boundaries and respecting my limits, because health should never come second to academic success. Sure, school is stressful and difficult, but it should also be exciting and rewarding.