|"The girl in this story never went to high school. She never took any tests. She had lived her whole life as an ivy plant growing up a wall, and nobody had ever told her which way to grow. She got all the water she needed, and she liked to be always adding new shoots and always seeking the sun."|
All of the young people around this ivy girl were preparing to go to college, but they weren’t thinking about being ivy plants growing up a wall. They seemed more interested in being potted plants. They conditioned their soil by building impressive resumes during their high school years. Then they took SAT prep courses, and on the night before the test they purposely didn’t get a good night’s sleep, because sleep was generally frowned upon as a waste of precious time.
Finally, with their transcripts in hand, the potted plant students spent weekend after weekend in cars with their parents, traveling the countryside visiting colleges. Each one had to carefully select the perfect clay or ceramic pot in which he would spend at least the next four years. “A pot for everybody, and everybody in a pot,” the voices in the here and now all seemed to say. In the meantime, the ivy girl just kept on growing and seeking the sun.
Once the potted plant students were at college, they watered themselves with just the right courses and pruned themselves with just the right extracurricular activities. Some of them hoped that they would one day sit on a high-tech, high-paying windowsill in a socially desirable city, while others simply wanted to find a stable shelf with a modicum of sunlight and water. The ivy girl just wanted to keep growing in her own natural way. She loved writing stories, so that is what she did with most of her time, putting out new shoots very rapidly sometimes, and then slowing down, but never stopping and always seeking the sun.
One day she decided to take a college class, just to see what it would be like. The nearby state college only let in students who had taken lots of tests and who wanted to come to college every day, so once each week, the ivy girl took a train to a liberal arts college in the big city, where anybody could take a class. And there, she received her first syllabus and met her first professor.
The syllabus confounded her. It was full of dates and deadlines, which had nothing to do with the way she was accustomed to learning things, but she adjusted. She molded her mind to fit into the pot that was the class, and she found that she could meet the deadlines and do the work required. Of course, there was less room in her head for her stories, so she put them aside. She liked the professor and the passionate way in which he tried to communicate the subject matter to his students. Often, he said something that she was glad to be able to hear and know, but more often she felt trapped in her chair, forced to look in the same direction for two hours, whether she was interested or not.
Writing papers for the class was the hardest thing; it was not like writing her stories. Still, she wrote the papers, and the professor thought they were just fine. But to the ivy girl they felt dead, not alive like her stories. When the class ended, she returned to her own writing, and one day when she had finished a story, she thought, “I wish I could take the train to the big city right now and put this on the professor’s desk. This is a real part of me. None of the things I wrote for him were from my heart and soul, but this is.”
The moral of this last story: college is not inherently good or bad. It is just one place where plants can grow. How a plant grows depends on many things, but in the end all that matters is to be always seeking the sun.
Susan Gaissert lives in New Jersey with her husband and daughter. From 2008 through 2011, she wrote the unschooling blog The Expanding Life. She is currently working on the book she feels born to write: a memoir of her mother’s family and growing up in the 1960s. Susan is passionate about life learning, books, crocheting, walking, and New York City, which is her favorite place to take a walk.