We’ve all heard “keep your eyes on your own paper” a million times since kindergarten. Teachers meant it for the tests; don’t cheat, don’t look at what your neighbor is doing, and just focus on your own work. But honestly? That’s the best life advice I’ve ever heard, and we’re all failing at it. I spent my freshman year looking at everyone else’s “paper.” I was looking at the girl who was in five clubs, the guy who was always boasting about how many organizations he was a part of, and the people who seemed to have their entire four-year plan color-coded and laminated. I was so busy checking their progress that I forgot to actually write on my own page. I was letting their energy dictate my mood. If they were stressed, I was stressed. If they were “grinding,” I felt guilty for taking a nap. It’s a trap. Especially for us women.
As a Black girl at a historically predominantly white institution (PWI), there’s this weird pressure to try “harder,” to be the exception, to be the one who does it all and does it perfectly. But I’m realizing that’s just a fast track to burnout.
This semester, I finally started finding my own rhythm in Creative Writing 141. Being a theater and performance studies major with a minor in journalism and creative writing, I’m used to the pressure of always being in the spotlight and having to deliver, but this class felt like a total reset for me. One day, our professor stopped the lecture and asked us to be real about what the hardest part of writing is for us individually. The class was silent for a while until a girl near the front spoke up, her voice a little shaky, and admitted that she has a massive problem with perfectionism and can’t even get a sentence out because she’s so worried that readers will not be interested in what she has to say. Then eventually, other people started chiming in, nodding, and sharing their own versions of that same struggle. It became so apparent that everyone is in the same boat. We became real people with human experience, and we stopped seeing each other as competition. After that class, we became instantly more comfortable with each other and even more comfortable with ourselves.
“We became real people with human experience, and we stopped seeing each other as competition.”
Lailah Young
You have to know when to stop looking at what everyone else is doing. When you’re constantly peeking at their paper, you’re not only losing your focus; you’re sacrificing your own voice, trying to answer questions that aren’t even on your exam. Protecting your own energy is just realizing that your “paper” is the only one that matters. If you want to spend your Tuesday night at an art exhibit instead of a networking event, do it. If you need to block someone who’s constantly bringing drama into your space, do it.
We’re taught to be competitive, to be involved, and to be everything to everyone. But nobody tells you that the most successful people are the ones who know how to tune out the noise. Keep your eyes on your own paper. Write your own answers. And if the person next to you is doing something different? Let them. Their grade doesn’t change yours. Protect your peace like it’s the only thing you’ve got, because, in this place, it kind of is.