"It's all worth it"
Introducing the newest member of our family, here he is in my arms. I'm completely drained. "That's why I wanted you to go to Bishop Loughlin," she tells him, as she prepares baby bottles. The reason I went to Tech, however, was that I wanted a challenge. Well, you'll have to cope with it, she says, adding, "Your aunt watched you while she was in high school."" There are three of them, after all." It's a challenge!"
When I got home from a summer program where I gained academic and social freedom, it was not exactly exciting to find a new baby in the house. You can't blame me for singing songs from Blue's Clues or The Backyardigans when you have a seven-year-old and a two-year-old in the house. Before any semblance of pseudo-freedom reaches my hands, I must significantly raise my children and tidy their dingy abode, which has never been easy. This is a good day for me, as long as I can get my little brother onto the city bus and home from daycare with no nosebleeds on me or demonic screaming for no apparent reason from him. Being up at three in the morning to work, my sole spare time, isn't my idea of a relaxing cup of coffee.
By the time we were fourteen, our personalities had already begun to diverge. She gave birth to me and attended a nontraditional high school; in a competitive high school, I made new friends and developed deep relationships. Her care for me and my research on the connection between the onset of schizophrenia and one's early life circumstances were both important to me at the time. I promised to never let anything stand in the way of my education when she took her daughter to pre-school. Even if I'm enrolled in classes to prepare for a profession in medicine, a route I wouldn't choose if it were the end of the world, I still have no excuse for failing. Even though my family has a history of failure, no one else will do it for me if I don't. That my mother still can't comprehend my decision to not attend Bishop Loughlin High School with its relaxed atmosphere and tradition of having a good time with friends, but instead to attend a school with rigorous coursework, high expectations, and a strong sense of accomplishment baffles me.
Growing up in Brooklyn, I've learned that disappointment is a common occurrence. Upon returning from school in the afternoon, I discovered that my bike had been taken from me. That's the borough of Brooklyn, New York. Instead of going to the movies with friends on the weekends, I work hard and try to keep my younger siblings away from my mother's prying gazes. That's New York City. As an alternative to going outside, I settle for the 12-by-6-foot concrete area in front of my house. That's New York City. There aren't any fresh-cut flowers in my Brooklyn, and no one smiles or says hello as they pass by. As a replacement, there is a pool of bizarrely colored vomiting, a wad of Orbit gum, and the monotonous working class as they board the train to their place of employment.
"Just do it" is the most important lesson I've learned from living in Brooklyn. Keep trying, not because you have to, but because you want to show yourself that you can. That's my duty. I'll have to put up with the demands of taking care of my younger siblings, among other things. Even if my mother disagrees, once the dust has settled from the ensuing traffic and noise, I know I made the right decision. Everything is worth it.
