Tomorrow I leave for Cebu, but to explain why I'm going to Cebu I need to go back to 2006 and a movie: Night at the Museum. ( is not the whole truth, just a part that I'm thinking on tonight.) When I sat down to watch that film I laughed because the main character was me.
When I was fourteen, right after I entered foster care, I made myself a promise: I was not going to be a get rich schemer like my mother. My promise lasted two minuets. Some of it comes with being creative. The rest comes from not being able to filter a bad idea from a good one. You'd think with all the bad ones my mother came up with- maggot farm to marrying men for their money (who didn't have any money)- that I'd know a bad idea when I thought of one.
No.
Recently, I watched Yes Man. Yet another character with traits like my own. I'm always being invited to things and I make escusses not to go. Eventually people stop asking. It's not that I don't know how to have fun, I entertain myself quite well, thank you. But I don't know how to live.
We know that TV and movies are not real, just as we know when we pick up a good fiction book, is just a story, and yet can we learn lessons that improve our lives from fiction ?
When I was a kid I drew horses.In fact, I never drew anything else until first grade. Then one day I drew a whale. My art teacher entered my whale into a contest. The whale won second place. Another girl in class was not happy. She had drawn a whale too but hers did not win. In the mean time I drew more whales and she complained to the teacher.
My art teacher came to me and said I shouldn’t keep drawing whales. I asked him why. He said it wasn’t good for an artist to draw the same thing over and over again. So I drew horses. Both the student and teacher were happy. But I wasn’t, I really wanted to draw whales, so I drew one more. My fifth whale was, and always will be, my best and last whale.
Box keepers have other names. Gate keepers, maintaining the status quo, etc., but it all amounts to the same: when you step out of your box someone will try to put you back. In a way my story is ironic. My classmate knew exactly what she was doing while my teacher meant now harm. And he was right, I did need to draw more things, but he didn’t reward me for drawing more things. He rewarded me for drawing horses, he rewarded her for drawing whales, and another student for drawing bunnies.
Transitioning from poor uneducated to well educated middle class brought the box keepers out in troves. My first college was a nightmare. I was attracted to the school because of they offered financial aid package that covered 100% of tuition, most of it via scholarship. Once I got there I was informed they had over committed their funds, and lost half of the scholarship money, but they had a solution: Loans. I didn’t know better so I signed on the dotted line.
Then I made friends and compared notes. Lots of people kept their scholarships-they came from wealthy families. Other friends in the same boat with me came from less than wealthy families. I wouldn’t call them poor, lower middle class maybe. We took out loans. I took out almost twenty grand that year. At the end of the year the school was having funding problems. They didn’t have enough scholarships. My wealthy friends called their families. They complained. My other friends knew something I didn’t- the limits to their box.
Several left, the rest took out loans.I appealed the decision. My appeal was denied. I appealed again, right up to the Dean of Students. We had a meeting. She asked me about my family, I told her about foster care. She asked me about my degree. I told her I wanted to be a teacher and writer too, then I explained how I was working full time to make up the difference of the scholarship they’d already cut. I explained I wouldn’t be able to attend school next year if they cut the rest.She smiled and said I wasn’t college material. My response was WTF, except I didn’t say that. I just asked her why. She said I wasn’t able to enjoy college- the basketball games, the camaraderie because I worked so hard- as if that were the most import aspect. She suggested I quit school. But since I told her that wasn’t going to happen, she suggested night school but it wasn’t her problem that I couldn’t afford tuition.
Box keepers are everywhere, the eternal grandmother threatening to stop you from growing- with a smile of course. Box keepers often give what would seem like good advice and other times they’re outright nasty when you don’t stay in your box.And sometimes we are our own box keepers.
What size is your box and who’s keeping you in it?
