Jack of All Trades

Compassion. Service. Integrity. Respect. These values are so deeply ingrained into our UWC community, and I believe that I can speak for many when I say that they will remain with us throughout the rest of our lives. As students, we are frequently reminded of the central mission of our school; we see it in our curriculum, our mandatory and voluntary service, and our extracurricular activities and societies. 

Our many, many societies.

The Overcommitment Culture of UWC is something that exists beneath the surface of our daily lives. It acts as an unspoken contract as opposed to something ever explicitly addressed. And yet, in many ways, it holds far more weight in students’ minds than any official school rule or notice. Look almost anywhere - at a club, a society, a sports team, a GC - and you’ll see it reflected clearly in the desperate, frantic day-to-day life that students face. 

UWC is undeniably an extraordinary school. Our academic excellence is highly regarded: an average IB score of 42.9 out of the top 100 students in our cohort - a cohort comprised of mathematical geniuses, musical composers, nationally-competitive athletes and straight-7 students who have public breakdowns over a grade lower than 95%.

On paper, it looks dazzling. Seamless, you’d say. Inspirational. 

But that’s the thing. 

Here, starring in the school musical or winning the economics academic award simply isn’t enough. To truly stand out, you must be more. The scientist also has to be the volleyball captain. The volleyball captain also has to play the piano at a G8 standard. The pianist also has to chair the debate society. It can’t ever be just one achievement; it has to be all of them.

Teachers and parents focus on the idea of a ‘grand passion,’ something that represents us as individuals and helps us define our path. But I think somewhere along the way, the idea of a ‘grand passion’ has grown into something else entirely: the pressure to maintain all of them at once. One simply is no longer enough, and certainly not when the person next to you has five. 

On one hand, I cannot deny that this builds a strong sense of resilience. UWC students are masters of time management, all able to juggle academic deadlines, rehearsals, practices and meetings with a seemingly superhuman ability. We’re adaptable, curious and open to trying new things, living extremely vibrant and diverse lives. We seize opportunities with both hands, entirely aware of the responsibilities we have towards ourselves and our families to excel at any that have been handed to us. 

However, the reality may not be as perfect. The demand to constantly commit, participate and improve leads to a deeply ingrained sense of complete and utter inadequacy. Am I running out of time? How can I stand out amongst so many unless I drown myself in leadership titles, theatre rehearsals and shiny report cards?

The truth of the matter is that our student culture frequently mistakes exhaustion for ambition. Burnout is worn by teenagers like a badge of honour. It’s become far less about collaboration, service or community, and instead purely about proving who can do the most, who can achieve the most, and who can be the best. We claim to prioritise compassion and service, but in reality, comparison and competition are the primary players in our high school communities. We encourage each other’s successes, but always measure them against our own. This holds implications in itself - what kind of a community are we, if we cannot push past this barrier of toxic comparison? It slips between the cracks of relationships and conversations, warping our perceptions of ‘normal’ and ‘expected’ until we are no longer able to congratulate achievements without fighting the wall of resentment and envy that comes along with it. 

I’ve been faced several times, like nearly all of my peers before me, with the crippling, uncomfortable idea that no matter how much I do, I may never amount to anything remotely close to ‘enough’ in the eyes of this overcommitment culture. We truly reflect the quintessential saying ‘jack of all trades, master of none,’ dabbling in everything, however, never really being able to commit or excel truly. And that’s where the danger lies. 

When we try so hard to be everything, we lose the chance to become anything at all truly.