I Was a Gobby Teen Who Lived to Succeed. Then I Lost a Contest – and Found the Real Me.

“I am young person growing up during a time marked by conflict, corruption, prejudice, racism, sexism. Yet few seems angry by these issues. People see minor progress towards equal society as solutions to societal problems completely though that falls short.”

It’s March 2015, and I’ve done it I’ve solved inequality. Standing in the basement room of Modern Art Oxford for my regional heat of the Articulation prize, I was convinced that perhaps I just introduced the audience of parents and teachers to the idea regarding gender equality. I felt proud with myself.

The Contest

The Articulation prize is an event aimed at older teens, aged 16 to 19, where participants get 10 minutes to present on a work of art of their choice. I learned about it by my head of my college, and his room I frequently visited just weeks before the event. As a pupil, I performed well but chatty and easily distracted. I felt everything intensely often becoming emotional and upset.

My approach was a binary approach to academics: excel completely or quit entirely. In the office, we discussed my decision to abandon a history course within weeks beginning it thinking it impossible it would be possible completing it with an A. “Not everything about extremes,” he urged.

An Opportunity

Along with my patient art instructor, the director of sixth form saw that Articulation was the perfect chance I required – after all I enjoyed art studies, and was suitably gobby as part of the school’s rag-tag discussion group. He suggested I prepare something for an initial school-level round. From memory, it seems no one else participated.

Choosing Art

I chose to speak on Damien Hirst’s medicine cabinets, which I had seen during an exhibit at Tate Modern (the poster of which remains posted on my wall near my workspace). I’d seen Hirst’s work for the first time as a child in north Devon, the north Devon town my elder relative was raised, and where the artist operated an eatery, the Quay, full of formaldehyde-imprisoned sea creatures, and wallpaper with tablet designs. I loved that his work was humorous and rebellious, and that he got away with calling whatever as artistic. It amused me my relative disapproved. But maybe most of all, I loved that, since the artwork took titles from song names on their 1977 album, I was going to say “The word” (Band name) several times in my speech. I truly was the boldest young thinker among my peers.

The Result

During the local round, nine other participants spoke, all of whom had better cultural context, made fewer unsupported, broad claims, and said “nonsense” rarely. I received the bronze position. For a teen who tied most of her self-worth on achievement, this would usually have been a devastating outcome. But, in that moment, that people appreciated my talk, and chuckled exactly when I had wanted, proved sufficient.

Fresh Directions

When the organizers asked to present once more, now during an event in London, I had sent in my application to read history of art at Oxford. Prior to this, I had thought I was going to apply literature or languages, but certainly not top universities, where I knew I would never be “top ranked”. But the competition boosted my courage and convinced me that my views were worth sharing, without knowing specialized terms. I didn’t need to be the best: I just needed to add my perspective to topics.

Discovering Passion

Talking about art – and learning how to entertain audiences during presentations – soon turned into my guiding light. My Articulation journey completed itself upon returning recently to be the first graduate judge for a competition round.

The event built my self-assurance outside academics: not that I would accomplish major feats, but that I didn’t have to. I stopped requiring to covet perfection; I needed to lean into personal expression. I went from being nervous and fragile – emotional yet impatient to anger – to someone who believed their own abilities. Perfection wasn’t necessary. Initially, being genuine outweighed more to me ideal outcomes.

Gratitude

I remain thankful to the college leader who took time to understand me during my years as an obstinate and emotional young adult, instead of rolling his eyes (in retrospect, some irritation would have been entirely justified). Life isn’t was absolute success or failure; I learned that it is often worth trying even without guarantees of “victory”.