More Than You Know

Hughes, Jane. “KosoMasa.” KosoMasa, 19 May 2016, www.koso-masa.net/studying-too-much/.

Since receiving my rejection letter from UPenn on December 24th, all I could focus on was getting into college. I ate, slept, and breathed studying. I was studying for my AP exams, my finals, and getting ahead in every class so I would be prepared for anything and excel at everything. I gave up partying, friends, my social life, video games, and even spending time with my family. Some nights I wouldn’t even eat dinner. I signed up for every after-school activity so that I would have an edge over my peers. Towards the end of the first semester, I reached my lowest point when I began to separate myself from family activities and interactions. This resulted in conversations lost in the void of studying, and experiences gone forever to the black hole of time. It got to a point where all I could think about was studying, and I blocked out everything and everyone from my life who interfered with it. I had one-way conversations with people: talking to them, asking for things, but not paying much attention to their answers or their needs. All that mattered was me and my all-knowing textbooks.
     “Mooooooom. Can you please go get me some Red Bull?"
     “Sorry, honey, I am too tired today. Maybe tomorrow?”
     “Thanks, mom, let me know when you get back.”
     “Honey, I said I’ll get them tomorrow night.”
     No answer.
     1 week later:
     “Moooooom. Can you please go out and get me some Doritos and Mountain Dew?”
    “Sorry, sweetheart, mommy’s not feeling very well today. I haven’t slept a full night in months.”
     “Thanks, ma, I’ll be in my room. Just bring them up when you get back.”

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This way of life continued on for months; day after day, with no end in sight. My breaks, my weekends, all my time was spent studying. I started missing big family events; my little sister’s birthday party, a dance recital, and karate tournaments. In addition, I demanded complete silence in the house while I was studying, effectively instilling a tranquil atmosphere for the majority of the day. This enabled me to focus on learning without any distractions. I think at that point in time, I spent more hours of the day with my textbooks than with real people, and it only got increasingly worse over time. One day I heard cries coming from downstairs:

“Moooooom. Can you please tell whomever is making noise downstairs to keep it down? I'm trying to study.?”

“I’m trying - do you think I want to hear his crying?”

“Thanks mom, love you.”

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In May I got my acceptance letter from NYU, and it was one of the happiest days of my life. I decided to rejoice with the people who made it possible: the College Board. I brought some snacks up to my room and decided to do a congratulatory dance. Alas, my work was not done; I would not allow myself to rest comfortably on my laurels. I decided to crack open my textbooks and see if I could start preparing for some of my college courses. My mom, on the other hand, thought that I was deserving of a celebratory dinner with the family. I had become so accustomed to being alone that I actually thought I was happy celebrating by myself in my room surrounded my textbooks and study sheets.

“Sweetie?” She knocked on my door and gently swung it open. “Maybe you should take a break for tonight and eat with us. At least for a little while.”

“Mom I wish I could, but I need to learn this new coding language that just came out ASAP so I don’t fall behind.”

“Ben, I’m serious now. You haven’t shown up for dinner for the past few months. You come home, study, and when dinner’s ready you take it up to your room so you can study some more. For tonight you are eating dinner with us and that’s final. I will see you in the kitchen in five minutes. Love you!”

“No, Mom. Getting into college is not a guarantee of success in the future. If I want to be the best in my field, I have to work harder than anyone else.”

“You can take one night off: it won’t kill you.”

“One missed day is another day my competition gains on me.”

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“Hey, Mom, what’s for dinner?”

“Wow, look who decided to show up. Any particular reason for you to bless us with your presence, oh great one?” she replied in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Listen ,mom: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I completely agree that I could benefit from taking a couple days off here and there.”

“Thank you. I also made spaghetti and meatballs, just in case you decided to show up.”

“Perfect. Who’s that next to Noah?”

“Very funny Ben, I thought you lost your sense of humor while you were living alone for 4 months.”

“Mom, I wasn’t joking.”

“Sweetie do you need glasses? That’s your little brother Jake!”

“Little brother!? When did you have another baby?”

A month after receiving my acceptance letter to NYU, I heard a knock on my front door. I opened my door to the “smiling faces” of two Israeli soldiers. I asked them if there was a problem, and if I had done something wrong. They replied that I had missed all of my Tzav Rishon, and were wondering why I hadn’t showed up. “Tzav Rishon! I never even received a letter,” but as soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I knew where I had gone wrong. I must’ve not read it and dismissed into the “not-a-college letter” pile, other wise known as my garbage can.  After I explained what had occured, the officers said that they are required to escort me to my interview so that I don’t ditch it again. During my interview I told the officer that I already made plans to go to college and that military service did not fit into my timeline. The officer looked at me as if he could care less about my plans and proceeded to fill out my mandatory draft induction card. I was in shock. I could comprehend the situation unfolding. I had a plan. I gave up days and months of my time to reach my goal, yet within the span of ten minutes, all of my hard work and effort was going to be washed away. I informed NYU regarding the situation, to which they replied, expressing how sorry they were for this unfortunate event to occur. In addition, if I’d like to, they would be happy to review my application again in three years.