“America will, in the end, be grateful to us for giving her original philosophers, critics, and artists; and we can let the world see that just as we prize physicians and scientists and lawyers and judges and economists, we also are proud of our future philosophers, novelists, composers, and critics, who, although they must follow a rather lonely and highly individual path, are also indispensable contributors to our nation’s history and reputation.”
-Valuing the Creative and Reflective by Helen Vendler
The text itself was isolated, robotic but the voice captured within the essay resonated with my core. Indeed, Helen Vendler was an unfamiliar figure in my life. The language she spoke, however, was my native tongue. As I reached her timely essay’s conclusion, I could sense warmth rising in my cheeks. The phrase “lonely and highly individual path” circled in my thoughts endlessly. Embarrassed, I turned away from my mother who stepped into the office to gather supplies. I did not want her to ask why I was crying for in that moment I was at a loss for words. What a “lonely and highly individual path” it has been.
Entering high school, I decided to enroll in the most challenging courses my campus had to offer which understandably shocked my parents. Like most musicians, actors, and artists, I had previously subscribed to the idea that higher education was unnecessary after being told that universities were not interested in students like me. I had heard that art was no avenue for the intelligent too many times. I was ready to set myself free, to fully evolve as a student. I knew in my heart I was more than “simply an artist’’ and the art I created could not be possible without my intelligent mind crafting it.
My academic journey caused me to rebel in the most unusual circumstances. “But what about your dream? Why would you waste time on things that are not your gifts?” were the questions I was faced with at home. My parents, who had invested countless dollars in studio equipment, instruments, and acting lessons when the refrigerator ran empty, were deeply conflicted. We spent many nights arguing about whether I would be allowed to continue enrolling in rigorous courses. My mother and father were mistaken. My dreams did not change; they only expanded. I wanted my family to invest in and support my academic journey to the same degree as my artistic endeavors.
As the years progressed, I began to develop my own concept in an effort to translate my evolved ambitions to my family. Creativity and intellect are one interchangeable entity. The artist can take from the engineer a complex design with a mathematical basis. The engineer can be inspired by the artist to build his concepts more abstractly. Creativity and intellect do, however, give birth to two distinct pathways: that of the artistic and that of the inquisitive. The best education encourages a pupil to travel among both routes and finds each destination to be of equal value. Following this belief is what marks one as an “indispensable contributor”, as Vendler states.
I feel certain that creativity is one with intellect and certain that my parents have accepted this belief as well. I witnessed a change when I would walk to the mailbox to pick up the household subscriptions and return holding an issue of Scientific American in one hand and a copy of American Songwriter in the other.
Upon completing my first semester at Cornell, it frustrated me to see that this ideology of creativity and intellect was not embraced by many of my peers. Weren’t we attending a university proud of its motto “any person….any study?” Didn’t we know that the Schwartz Center was more than a popular collegetown bus stop? Or that both engineering and Africana Studies were on par in providing answers to some of society’s most pressing questions? Until recently, I never knew the terms “easy” and “fun” could be used so repetitively to degrade a course established in the arts or the humanities. It was so terribly ordinary that I became accustomed to, and at times nearly complicit with, the practice of arts and humanities course bashing. Each time I encountered remarks similar to “my STEM focused class is sooooo hard ….. you’re so lucky…” I interpreted them as being asked to personally reevaluate my own fate and value as a student. This may sound extreme but unfortunately it’s true. If you are constantly beat down with interjections questioning your marketability in the workforce, the difficulty of your work, if you too were struggling with sleep deprivation, and the assumption that you must dwell in paradise without prelims, you too would forget that not all knowledge and skills can be best evaluated by a problem set. You might also lose faith in your contributions.
Today, I remember the tensions that once existed in my family over creativity and intellect and see that it was my persistent practice that transformed their opinions. Mom and Dad had to witness to believe.
But how can we witness if we are so caught up in our own lives? That is a question best answered by the individual who will make time for anything they deeply value. And if we added up the hours of time we waste, we would see that making time is not nearly as impossible as we might think. Witnessing does not have to be a chore. It should bring interest. Become part of an audience before a performance or take a moment to observe the work of other Cornellians when you’re studying in Sibley Dome. Become part of an experiment or attend a guest lecture. Whatever you decide to witness, whether it be the talents of your neighbor or of your own, remember that all your contributions are to be prized and glorified.
