College students constantly hear the praises of education. We have all become used to believing that a college education is always a guarantee of an easier life. I was nine years old when my fourth-grade teacher presented me with a task, to write down all of the things I wanted in my life. I filled my paper with things like: own a big house and have servants; be rich and have a good job. The next day my teacher handed back my paper and in red ink she wrote: “GO TO COLLEGE.” For a long time, I was convinced that once I obtained an education, BAM! Life would be easier.

However, education cannot promise all wishes, dreams, and desires. Society must reject the foolish idea that a college education’s main purpose is to satisfy our desires and secure success. Like most challenging things, education is a gamble (赌博) in which results depend entirely on people’s ability to look past their wants to see the realism and reason behind their wants.

For instance, my first year of college, I took a sociology class. In class, we were taught that Third World countries were poor. We learned that our quality of life would be almost impossible for an average person in those countries. I began to examine my own desire to be rich. To always go after money felt selfish when knowing others had none at all. Learning about other society’s financial situations forced me to look beyond what I wanted.

Through the process of education, everything once desired is tested. Wanting something no longer is enough; it’s more important to examine why we want it and whether we really want it. When my desire for money changed, everything changed. I stopped longing for money-driven careers and stopped valuing the people who had them. I began to examine the things I purchased and my reason for wanting them.

Education is a tool to be used to develop and advance our desires, so we can discover the things that are truly significant in life. Education is a source to expand our society to see beyond the superficial (表面的) appeals and the “quick fixes”, leaving the belief of an effortless life behind in order to desire a meaningful one.

A Reflection about Change

Change can be exciting and hard. It is also a fact of life in the world of education. I am a librarian at a high school. I have worked as a librarian for the past eleven years. This year my school is going through a tremendous transition. There is a new school building being constructed with a mid-year move planned. Additionally, due to some restructuring, I am working with a new teaching partner and two new grade levels. This is all incredibly exciting but also brings a level of uncertainty too. I could look at this in a negative way, but instead, I am going to focus on the upside to this transition. So here I share some ways I am embracing this change.

Working with teachers, that I have not had an opportunity to work with before, will allow me to gain new perspectives about the needs of the students in my school. The library program has been something I have worked hard to build over the past nine years. I am very close to it. It will be helpful for someone who has an outside perspective to ask questions about our practices. It will allow me to reflect on why we do certain things and will make the program better moving forward.

As I gain new perspectives from my colleagues, I also have an opportunity to share the mission of the library. It has given me a chance to highlight some of the great lessons and projects I have had the opportunity to be a part of in the past.

Is this a hill I want to die on? This is about recognizing the things that I can change and making those work rather than worrying about things that I have no control over. It is about not sweating the small stuff. If I ask myself this question and the answer is no, then I have to let it go and move on!

One of my wonderful colleagues, Cheri Dobbs, told me to give myself permission for things not to be perfect. Next year will be a year of growth. The library program will not be exactly like what we want it to be. That is OK! As long as we stay true to our goals and support students the best we can, then the rest will come together eventually.

At noon, I would race breathlessly home, a ten-minute walk from my school. My mother was waiting for me with pleasure to have lunch while I shared what happened at school.

I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had rehearsed (排练) my lines so hard with me. But no matter how easily I acted at home, hardly had I stepped on stage when every word escaped me. Finally, my teacher asked me to change to a narrator’s (解说员) part. Her word. kindly expressed, still hurt, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.

I didn’t tell my mother what had happened that day. But she sensed my pain. Instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to walk in the yard.

Under the rose vine, we could see yellow dandelions (蒲公英), as if a painter had touched our landscape with shades of gold. I watched my mother casually bend down by one dandelion. “I’m going to dig up all these weeds, she said, pulling it up by its roots.” From now on, we’ll have only roses in this garden. ”

“But I like dandelions,” I argued. “All flowers are beautiful-even dandelions.”

My mother asked thoughtfully, “Yes, every flower gives pleasure in its own way, doesn’t it?” I nodded, pleased I had won her over. “And that is true of people too,” she added. I burst into tears, a mixture of relief and regret swelling up as I told her what had happened.

“But you will be a beautiful narrator,” she said, encouraging me as she did. “The narrator’s part is important, too.” Composing myself gradually, I began to accept the narrator’s part. Then came the performance day. I was still nervous, but it was at that very moment that I found a dandelion in my pocket. It was obvious that my mom secretly put the flower there, which magically gave me confidence.