Marleen Troutt
I am not a winner. I am not the feather in the cap of this University. I am rarely the one to watch, rarely the horse to bet on.
That's not to say I don't have my unique talents and gifts, though most of the time they go unnoticed. I do succeed in important areas, but often that success is overshadowed by the greatness of others. I do have my shimmering moments of brilliance, but usually I am considered, well, mediocre.
My college career as a nontraditional undergraduate student has been a race more marked by injury than victory. More often than I have been proud of myself, I have been disappointed. More often than I have reaped the benefits of my labor, I have collapsed in exhaustion. More often than I have perfected my tasks, I have killed myself trying.
And I am not sorry for one painful, angst-ridden day of it. Not sorry for all those sleepless nights. Not sorry about all those mistakes I made along the way.
I am utterly remorseless about being a dark horse in a white system.
And I am not alone.
Southern Illinois University is made of dark horses. It's full of minorities and international students not as welcome elsewhere and those with ACTs below 25. It is packed with working-class Southern Illinoisans in a state that barely recognizes anything below its knees. More than two-thirds of its undergraduate student population relies on financial aid. Many of its patrons work two jobs just for the luxury of sitting in its aging classrooms.
This University is not a winner. This University is not the feather in the cap of academia. This University is rarely the one to watch, rarely the horse to bet on.
That's not to say it doesn't have its unique talents and gifts, though most of the time they go unnoticed. It does succeed in important areas, but often that success is overshadowed by the greatness of others. It does have its shimmering moments of brilliance, but usually it is considered, well, mediocre.
And it should not be sorry.
This University is running a race more marked by injury than victory. It huffs for recognition in an arena that often sees it as an insignificant and immature party school. Meanwhile, it doesn't even recognize the vital track on which it gallops.
This University does not have a flawless and privileged Harvard past. We have real-world battle scars. This University does not have unlimited funds to play with. We must rely on the generosity of friends and our own creativity.
The University and I both succeed because we refuse to believe what others think of us. We pluck the feathers for our own caps. We reach greatness because we pick ourselves when society expects to pass us by. We have the courage to bet on ourselves.
Perhaps we will never rise out of the mediocrity that haunts us. Perhaps the world will never see our gifts from our faults or our bright future from our less-than-perfect pasts. But perhaps none of that matters. Dwelling on what we are not or how we are perceived as insufficient is the only real mark of mediocrity.
As administrators struggle to improve SIU's image, I have one caveat. Our present legacy may not be the most prestigious -- it just may be the most important.
In its tolerance, this University is the gate to the dream of education for all. In its acceptance, this University is the down-to-earth answer to the prayers of the diverse commoners and the great middle class. In its humility, this University is the stalwart gambler on dark horses.
And the beautiful secret is that sometimes the dark horses run the farthest.
Sometimes, they have to.
Marleen Troutt is a graduating senior in journalism and the summer editor-in-chief of the Daily Egyptian.
Published on 11/17/05; 12:24:44 PM
