Art Center Honors Term: Warning

As I near the homestretch of my final semester at Art Center, it's occurred to me that Honors term has two meanings. Yes, it is an honor to be awarded one of the two fellowships that allow graduating students to take one more semester of classes on the school's bank. But it's also about honor, honor as in one's own sense of honor and the "honor system."

The classes have been challenging for me, it's new information from a completely different field than my area of study, my grades don't matter as I already have my degree. The temptation to write it off, to give up, to have a sour attitude about all the work, to take what I've learned so far and just walk away is unbelievably strong. But I realize that this too must be part of the lesson. Having the fortitude and resilience to stick it out, when it gets tough, when it's not fun anymore, but really just hard work.

Maybe that's the whole point, the flip side no one focuses on and why it's only awarded to students who've already excelled. Because an honors term, is not just free classes, it's essentially taking classes and completing all the work as if you were an enrolled student, but without the promise or incentive of grades. There's no reward except the satisfaction of learning and doing well. The challenge is to dig in, do it and do it well even though nobody else is watching, nobody else cares, and no one can take away the degree that you've already earned. Its blood, sweat, and tears, just because you like to bleed, sweat and cry by yourself a lot.

Its been a tough term for me. I haven't worked this hard and this tediously since my first semesters at Art Center. Being an upper term student had made me soft. I only did what I wanted, when I wanted. I was past assignments and exercises. I was an artiste. The worker bee attitude was gone. Now, having to buckle down might be a good change. A good refresher course on working hard even when I don't want to as I prepare to enter the real world. And as I fight against laziness and second-guess my career choice, I realize that I am dreaming about ideas for assignments while I lie in bed, that I am excited about the possibilities of the work.

If I can still enjoy something, even after its become very hard and frustrating, and made me think of quitting (a few times), then maybe, just maybe I do find this fun and I am in the right place. It's as if this so called "free term" has been a test of how badly I want it, whether I have what it takes to be a professional creative. The magic hat of Hogswart. Do I belong here? And then I realized, that the day before Thanksgiving, I have a friend teaching me how to create a laser cut file, because I may want to use it for a project later. And when it takes longer than I thought, try three hours longer, because we didn't do it right the first time. I'm still there.

Then I notice the actual laser lab isn't very crowded. It usually is. I suggest we test the file, just to see if it works. I run across the hall to the model shop and buy some acrylic, we test it out. The file doesn't work, we fix it. We test it again and again and when we finally get a successful laser cut. I look at my friend and suggest we do it again on another material. Really? I thought I'd be done four hours ago and now my mind is racing about the possibility of making something else (emory boards). And that's the test. It was hard, it was tedious, all the fuss over minor details felt stupid. But I'm still there. The day before Thanksgiving, in a laser lab, cutting acrylic because I think it might become something cool. It's there I realize that I am a creative. This is my place in the world and I'm still here. The Art Center Honors Term, warning: For academic nerds only.