By Danny Kelleher
Editor-In-Chief
Throughout the last couple of weeks, my English class has been focusing heavily on existentialism. The term itself is one of the hardest to define in the English language, and fully grasping the implications of the behemoth philosophical idea sometimes seems even more difficult.
The most traditionally cited example of existentialism, though, is probably the story of Sisyphus. In the myth, the eternally punished Sisyphus pushes a boulder up a hill, only to have it subsequently tumble back down. He repeats the action over and over, knowing his fate will never change.
It was Albert Camus, the mid-20th century French author, who first linked the story of Sisyphus to the human race in his essay, “The Myth of Sisyphus.” In order to understand how to attain happiness, Camus said, humans need to look at how Sisyphus would do so; he made happiness out of his environment, and appreciated the “struggle.” He didn’t strive for a greater goal; he appreciated the process for what it was. Recently, I’ve been inadvertently relating this existentialist thought to my senior year.
Most of what I do in school has pretty much always been for the purpose of preparing myself for the future. If I hadn’t done well in elementary school, I wouldn’t have been in the fast classes in middle school. If I hadn’t kept it up in middle school, I would have been disadvantaged in high school. And now, if I don’t excel in high school, I’ll be faced with the most daunting punishment of all: a worse college.
For me, the ideas of existentialism have only accentuated the pretentious, disingenuous nature of the college application process. In the future, I won’t get any pleasure in remembering my junior year grades, or my AP test scores, but I will get joy out of remembering Mr. Westerberg’s passionate, eye-opening discussions, and Ms. Doyle’s ultra-competitive, ultra-fun “juegos” (games). The “struggle” of school will be far more important to me than whatever quantifiable results I can derive from it.
So, as the light at the end of the tunnel draws nearer and nearer, I can only make sure to appreciate my final year of compulsory education for exactly what defines it: the struggle. College and the future are important, but I’d be a fool to not find enjoyment in the learning itself. As any existentialist would tell you, life is what we make of it. Same goes for senior year.
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