Caroline+F’s+OpEd+Article


 * Didn't expect //THAT//, did you?**

Expect Expectations //By Caroline F.// media type="file" key="carolinef-muckraker-0910.mp3" A silly little word, that something I have been trying my whole life to live up to and to live down: the expectations of others. It is these expectations that have sunk their caustic teeth into my soul, ceaselessly draining me of life and sending me whirling through the world bewildered and distraught. There has not been a moment in my life where I have felt that someone somewhere out there was not expecting something of me, whether or not it is applicable to my true character. My mother, my father, my brother, my sister, my teachers, my coaches, my friends, and perfect strangers all expect me to be somebody I simply am not.

I have hobbies and whims unique to myself, I have gifts and talents all my own, I have motivations and traits pertaining only to me, and it is others' anticipations of these characteristics where I find my most discomfort. I constantly have my father clinging fiercely to back harrying me to be his protégé like an unyielding granite gargoyle of rock-like oppression, although he denies every word of it.

My early interest in sports was of no consequence to him, rarely attending my numerous soccer matches, field hockey tournaments, and cross country and track races. However, when my brother played soccer for a whopping two whole years and football for a grand total of three, guess what mysterious man went to every single game no matter where the location? It would not distress me if I knew that he simply had no in interest in watching youth sports, however I find it difficult to justify his lack of attendance at my athletic activities. He expected my brother to be an athletic god, fluttering down to Earth on a frothy cloud of praise, whereas I was expected to be a “lady” whom should have few affiliations with athleticism. However, even after I slaughtered his 600 meter time my freshmen year from his junior year high school glory days, a magnificent achievement considering the gender and age differences, I was never truly acknowledged for the accomplishment, as if he was in denial of my capabilities and disposition.

But the sexism does not stop at this humble location. I am further thrust into the world of Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart by my devout father, who is not truly an appalling, heinous man as I make him out to be, it is just that the subtleties of his demeanor tend to have an exaggerated effect of my personality and behavior because of his forceful influence over my life. He expects me to be a well rounded individual, as any parent would, yet his interpretation is severely different than my idea of the concept and is variable between the genders. Concerning grades and intelligence, my father has always slighted me by expecting my brother to achieve academic greatness while when I come home with a good grade or a new piece of information, he looks at me as if he is surprised. It is hard to verbalize that condescending face he makes toward me, but sometimes it feels as if he is almost disappointed that I performed well, like I have not held up to his expectations. Furthermore, my brother came home from his first trimester of college with A’s and a few B’s, much to the dismay of my father. To defend my brother, I mentioned that I have gotten a B before in class and he retorted with “well that is different,” failing to explain why exactly it was different at all. I have come to the conclusion that he has a disillusion of who I truly am by rejecting reality and substituting his own. With this false premise he has then expected me to behave as an entirely different person, often dismissing me when I confront him on the issue. At the beginning of junior year he asked me what my goals were for the school year. I replied shortly with “above all, I wish to become a more proficient writer” and he countered with “No--” then he continued to list my goals for the year, therefore angering me beyond imagination. I may be shy and meek, but it was at this moment that I exploded with furious rage so that if someone were to look down from space they likely would have been able to observe the inferno spewing from my eyes.

It was there that I confronted him for the last time. I demanded to know how it was that he knew me better than myself and was so capable of understanding absolutely everything about my inner thoughts, ambitions, and desires. As I predicted, the confrontation led nowhere, but it was at that point that I released myself others expectations, at least to a certain degree. Disregarding my father, now the only expectations that I have to live up to are the ones that I set for myself.

The fact of the matter is that expectations are dangerous, for children, for adults, and especially for adolescents merely on the brink of discovering themselves. Youths are thrust into a world in which others shape them through their own crooked perceptions before that young adult has even had the chance to figure out what he or she want for themselves. Even expectations that one holds up for oneself can be deadly if those goals are not reasonably attainable or sustained. My life has been utterly torn by the roots, like how one plucks a sickly dandelion from an orderly plot of sod, solely because of the profound effects of upholding and overcoming the expectations of others. I wish that no one expected me, or anybody else for that matter, to behave like someone I am not, to have uncharacteristic traits, or to have goals not my own. Without expectations I would have glee, be me, and most importantly, I would be free!