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Entity highlights how mothers know best during the college process

My family values education over anything else. The family dinners throughout my childhood consisted of extremely intellectual conversations, usually involving Israel-Palestine relations or the importance of environmental sustainability. Needless to say, it was pretty hard to keep up as a young kid.

I was perplexed, and somewhat envious, of other families who filled their dinners with upbeat, funny conversations. It was so starkly different from what I was used to. I remember my family constantly expressing concern for me throughout middle school and even into high school, since I shockingly had other interests besides solely my schoolwork. I wasn’t sure how to participate at family dinners revolving around such serious topics. When I tried to start more casual conversations, such as my dedication to watching “Drake and Josh”, their responses made me feel as though I wasn’t cultured enough to be at the table.

When time came to look at colleges it was sort of expected that I would attend a Harvard-level institution. My family didn’t understand how Ivy League schools were actually hard to get into.  So when I told them my of plans to tour Davidson College, a school they had never even heard of, their confusion only grew.

When I first toured Davidson, the small North Carolina school that I would end up attending, I fell in love. But since it was in the south, and lacked a prestigious name, I did not have the support of my family.

Much to my family’s dismay, I decided to go. So off I went to the uninhabited, developing world that, to them, is the South.

I hoped that as a student at Davidson I would feel the same way I had felt when I toured. But I had changed and so had my feelings. Still, I was so adamant on proving a point to my family that I never let my unhappiness show. My mom continued to voice her concern, claiming that it was a “motherly instinct” that told her I wasn’t happy. I constantly reassured her she was wrong, and that I was truly happy, when I knew that I was not.

The issue for me was the school, not the location, but I believed my family wouldn’t see the difference. Their most used word when it came to talking about Davidson was “unsophisticated,” and I wished more than anything that I could sway their minds. But nothing had any impact.

As the year progressed, I tried to love Davidson as much as I wanted my family to think I did. But I knew I wasn’t happy.  I began to realize that my mother was right along. But I refused to give in.

By the time February rolled around, I submitted a transfer application to Georgetown University. I knew I would be infinitely happier going to school in Washington DC, but that would also mean letting my family win. Or I could stay at Davidson and be miserable, but maintain the prospect of hopefully proving some sort of point to my family.

When I received my acceptance letter from Georgetown, I was torn. I had tried so hard to break away from my family’s extreme obsession with intellectualism — did I really want to give up now?

In their world, literature and academic interests were all that mattered. In my world, I had no problem watching hours and hours of “America’s Next Top Model” while eating unsustainably sourced Chinese takeout on the couch. I so badly wanted to transfer and attend school in a city with limitless opportunities, but my desire to prove my family wrong was holding me back. My ego was holding me back.

I ultimately decided to change schools, but I did it for me and for me only. To this day I still refuse to admit that my mother was right when she warned me that Davidson was not the right fit for me. While I am now exponentially happier, I remain grateful for what my one year in the south taught me about my family and our differences. I will never be anywhere near as focused on the intellectual side of life as they are. But that’s okay, because they won’t ever get to experience the feeling of pure joy that I get when the delivery guy shows up right before “The Bachelor” starts. I’m not yet sure how, but I know our differences will eventually make us closer.

There is definitely some truth in the saying “mother knows best,” even if you really really  want to prove them wrong.

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