Notions of Benevolence

I don’t know what it is about Sheryl Sandberg’s book Lean In that bothers me, or why everyone thinks it’s a big deal. Specifically, why Ms. Kauffman quotes the book in every speech. Is everyone surprised that there’s a woman in technology that can also write?

I don’t disagree with the message. I’m all for trying new things and pushing my comfort zone. (Wait, is it about challenging gender expectations? Maybe I should read this book.) In either case, I almost feel insulted that I need to be told to be bold. I consider myself an engineer, and yes I know that’s a male-dominated field, but honestly, I don’t care. And I’m pretty sure I’ll continue not to care in the future, because I am that kind of person.

I’m unsure whether it’s Castilleja that has molded this spirit in me or if it was some other influence. But I had already begun to lean into discomfort well before this year. I am not afraid to make a fool of myself. I tried water polo in freshman year, having never tread water correctly; I turned in an essay entitled “Why I Hate Holden” to a teacher who loved him; and I did track this year while simultaneously proclaiming that I am not a running person. I even wrote slash fiction for my final English project this year, partly to see if I could get away with it and partly to have fun. Clearly, I take risks that I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle or do well in. I am absolutely surprised when my expectations are different from what actually happens, but I learn the most from my failures.

The other part of “Lean In” that I take to heart is the directive to push boundaries. Our school doesn’t have a programming course? Why not? I’ll push for that to happen. Someone thinks girls shouldn’t be using power tools? Why is that? I’ll change their mind. The Administration thinks a certain teacher is the perfect choice for a week-long adventure to another country? They probably don’t get enough of our feedback. I’ll tell them. Some of my pushing back has been rude, I will admit, but Castilleja has allowed me to recognize my audacity, apologize, and move forward. Some of my boldness, though, I don’t regret, and I wonder why. Is it because my classmates came to me afterwards thanking me for speaking up? I would rather be supported by my friends than be approved of by some adult that doesn’t know me. I suppose this moral compass will gain me enemies, but these are the enemies I have the strength to stand against, and I know I will never be complicit and complacent if I always speak up.

I don’t think this complexity can be summed up in the two words, “lean in.” After all, this statement lacks a subject and an object (though I applaud it for its verb). Who should lean in? Me? You? Politicians? Women? Men? Toddlers? Lean in to what? Adversity? Conversations? To see down someone’s shirt? (not my words) The cool fan breeze on a hot afternoon? These and so many questions race through my head when our head of school quotes the title of Sheryl Sandberg’s new book. Instead of saying, “Lean in,” I would ask, “How have you pushed yourself and others to change for the better?” That question, I think, would elucidate a much better discussion.

My iPad is being taken from me. And I know it’s the school’s iPad, but a device is only what you use it for. And I’ve used mine. Many of my classmates have noticed how I pull my iPad out to search for an answer on WolframAlpha, or to quickly reference a Google Doc. I’ve made it useful to me, and therefore I’ve given this piece of technology value. And now that value will be lost forever.

I’m thankful that I have at least some time to get my work off of it before it’s all gone forever. If I had to give it up right now, I’d lose my entire year’s worth of Chemistry notes; all of my designs for the laser cutter; all of my college notes, including my annotated Common App and college touring notes; my stage manager’s copy of Scapin; Team 1700’s CalGames scouting; and countless funny notes from my friends hidden in my documents.

There are a few apps I’ve never touched; among them are Messages, Music, and the Dictionary. But I’ll always remember searching for cities in Italy to better understand the plot of one of Hemingway’s short stories in English; using SpanishDict and other translation apps to help my classmates in Spanish; never using my heavy Calc textbook because it’s in iBooks and finding everything from derivatives to flower-like polar curves using WolframAlpha in Math; taking all of my notes, learning about the structure of hydrocarbons, and visualizing the electron cloud and vibrations of ethanol in AT Chem; reading my CS textbook entirely on my iPad, often late at night; taking notes on a seminar in APUSH; and even pulling up an open-source copy of Merchant of Venice for Stage & Page when I forgot my book.

All of the aforementioned activities would have been much more difficult (and against the rules) if they were off my phone and much more distracting if they were off my computer. Tablets, man. It’s the way of the future.

shannahmcgill:

ladytabularasa:

dramaddict:

one guacamole is equal to 6.0221415×10²³ guacas

SO DONE WITH THIS WEBSITE

I only make my guacamole out of the freshest Avogadros.

Reblogging this because AT Chem

(Source: beesmygod)

barricadeponine:

you either loved the catcher in the rye with a burning passion and it touched your soul and holden caulfield was you in high school or you despised that book and threatened to burn it and holden caulfield was a whiny little bitch there’s literally no in between

Guess which one I was.

The latest Star Trek movie was really good. I’m somewhat partial to sci-fi, but I really liked this and the last Star Trek movie because, even with all the explosions and holes in ships and fighting, the characters still feel human (even Spock).

I love sci-fi because it always shows the vulnerability and strength of the human race at the same time. I like being reminded of our fragility (see above: explosions) and of our enduring strength, through friendship and families and love.

I also love the technology and science, but I’ve been through enough of Ms. Ross and short stories to see sci-fi as a critique of our society. And it’s cool to see the hidden meaning.

P.S. I’m not a Cumberbatch fangirl but uggh he was so fierce and ruthless and self-confident — I loved it.

I drove home after junior retreat, and while I was stuck in traffic, I started thinking about all the responsibility and autonomy I am given. For one, I drive myself about three days a week, and I get to chose my routes. Today, I chose 101 to 85 south, thinking that at 3:30 there wouldn’t be any serious traffic. I was wrong. A few days ago, both 101 and 280 were red, so I took Alma/Central south and missed the freeway, ending up on surface streets for an hour. I also have the privilege/responsibility of driving another student on Thursdays, which I didn’t think possible a year ago. My parents know I won’t listen to their sage advice to leave early or to take 280; they know I will experiment, and I learn best from my own failures. In that sense, responsibility allows me to fail, and ultimately learn.

At retreat we talked about responsibility and privileges and how to lead the school. For me, the privileges are about preparing us for college. With so much more freedom, we must learn to use it wisely. Of course I will fail to be productive in my free time, but that failure was a result of my own decisions, and I will learn most directly how to change my habits.

In small groups, our idea for leading the school #102 was “Don’t try to be perfect, or pretend you are.” I do not try to be perfect; I have long since realized perfection is unattainable (especially on English essays. In math, you can be perfectly correct, which is why I love it). So I try to be my best. But I think a lot of us also pretend we are perfect. I’ve started to notice my habit of raising my hand and saying a wrong answer as if I was right, and by the nature of my confident assertion, I can convince others I am right, when in fact I’m not. I’m sure some people think I have everything put together, so my goal for next year is to show the school how human I am, and how human everyone is. By not striving for perfection or competition, we can learn together, which is a far superior way to learn.

kennendoah:

I like this.

I was thinking about what the AP reviewers must think of all the answers/essays they get, and how interesting it would be if they got one of these answers.

APUSH: “In the Auntie Bellum period of American History…” “As Aaron Burr (murderer, manipulator, and liar extraordinaire) wrote in his letter to…” “When the US dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima in 1845…”

AP Lit: “This poem clearly demonstrates the plight of AP Lit students. I mean, just look at it.”

AP Chem: “The difference in the calculated result and the accepted value is due to the student’s inability to follow directions. The same is true for my AP score.”

AP Spanish: “Yo no hablo espanol. Donde esta la bano? Tengo hambre. Mi color favorita es mojado.”

AP Calc: “To little brainpower. Cannot compute.” For lim as x->2 of (x-2)^3/(x-2)^2: “Divide by 0 error.”

At the beginning of the year, we discussed what we’d remember from our summer reading books. One week after the tragedy in Boston, I got to thinking about what I’ll remember about the story of events in real life. It’s clear that events like these aren’t ever forgotten, but what I remember from them is surprisingly different from the gore of what the news reports.

I’ll remember my first suspicion that something was wrong was when I saw a repeat of President Obama’s speech on a bar TV (I was in Mexico). My brother explained that someone had bombed the Boston Marathon. The only thing I said was, “That’s not good.” Not good — the words of shock.

After that, though, I started to focus on the positives, much like I focused on the fact that one of four planes did not crash into a building on 9/11 because ordinary heroes stopped the terrorists. I focused on the similar heroes in Boston, the ones that rushed to help the wounded, marathoners who kept running to donate blood, and the incredible cooperation of everyone to find the suspects.

I was talking with my dad yesterday in the car and he told me about how the five or so hospitals, in the five or ten minutes it took for the ambulances to get there, had cleared operating rooms especially for bomb injuries and amputations, and how the victims were distributed among all the hospitals since one couldn’t have handled them all, and how many hospitals had at least one doctor that had toured in Iraq and knew how to do triage and handle these injuries. My dad pointed out that probably the reason the hospitals were so prepared was because of 9/11. Instead of everyone panicking, you literally see helpers rushing in seconds after the first bomb. It’ll take a while to process, but this event proved that we as a society can act quickly to help instinctively. Maybe it’s because we’ve experienced terror already and we’re trained for it or maybe it’s because we are truly a helping people and those really are our instincts. I’d like to think we’re resilient because of both.

My thoughts are with Boston.