Dude, where's my life? Eleanor Marshall

I’m only a freshman, but already I’m filling up my schedule with every possible activity I can fit in, cramming my days with anything and everything I think I may have some chance of liking. I always make it a point to only involve myself in things I’m actually interested in, but somehow the image of another resume builder tacked on the end of my college application always manages to sneak into the back of my mind.
And obviously, I’m not the only one. We all know that person who’s taken the SAT twice by the time he hit junior high and loaded up his schedule with extracurriculars he doesn’t even like in preparation for his college apps. What we don’t like to admit is that there’s a little bit of him in all of us. After all it’s been hammered into our heads that, especially with this economy, it takes more than good grades to get scholarships. Have you heard about all the kids with 4.0s that are getting turned away from Harvard because they aren’t well-rounded enough? I have. Many, many times.
Yes, college applications and scholarships are great, and even better if they happen to motivate apathetic procrastinators. What’s not so exquisite is when we stop doing things just for the pleasure of them or just because they’re a part of our daily responsibilities. The issue isn’t what we’re doing; it’s what we’re not doing instead. We forget our household tasks and sense of fun because we’re rushing from one resume-builder to another.
We don’t have time to walk our own dogs, but we’re happy to walk abandoned shelter puppies. We’re too tired to empty the dishwasher because we spent the entire evening washing dirty plates and silverware at a charity dinner to benefit the homeless. We’re too busy for arts and crafts night with our friends because we have massive amounts of homework from our AP-laden schedules. We don’t ride our bikes to school because we need our cars to get us there on time for early bird PE.
We all end up with wonderfully complete resumes, but when it comes to becoming complete people, I’m not so sure. We emerge from high school academically ready to take on the world, but lacking the common sense to take on a dorm room. College admissions officers don’t measure how often you help your mom with dinner, do your own laundry, or remember to feed the cat you persuaded Dad to buy you in 4th grade. They don’t count the number of times you were tardy because you helped someone pick up the books she dropped all over the hallway or carried in your elderly neighbor’s groceries.
Being a good person can’t be measured by the number of clubs you join or even the number of volunteer hours you put in. Being a good person is how you act outside of the application, off the resume. It’s all the extra things you do just because they’re right.
I’m not saying you should drop all your clubs, quit doing your homework, and coast through high school. But the next time learning how to cook Mexican food with a group of friends sounds better than an all weekend math competition, or planting a garden sounds better than volunteering at Oaknoll, do it. Your resume will be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. Your life won’t.