Don’t memorize the unit circle: you are the expert on your life

Toby Goldfarb ’23 Web Managing Editor

Staring at my computer through tears, I attempted to absorb each coordinate of the unit circle. However, my sophomore year self kept mixing up the sines and cosines. With T-8 hours until the test, I called it a night. If I couldn’t remember the trigonometric value, I could just draw a triangle, right? To my surprise, that test was the highest grade I had received in Pre-Calculus. The paper was returned to me with 20 triangles scribbled in pencil, with a smiley face at the top in blue ink.

I had spent my entire academic career adhering to the unspoken rules: turning in every assignment at least 24 hours before the due date and studying at least three days in advance for each test. In middle school, I was the designated “Quizlet girl,” with my study sets usually reaching at least 50 students. But if trig taught me anything besides SOH-CAH-TOA, it was that I needed to listen to my own academic needs.

So you can imagine my surprise on my 16th birthday when I failed my permit test.

Being one of the youngest among my friends, I had been advised that the 60+ page manual was a “waste of time” and instead, I should study by taking online practice exams. Of course, this strategy didn’t work for me, and the next time I went to the DMV, I had read every word of the manual and taken extensive notes.

Needless to say, I was elated to receive my permit, but like any insecure high schooler, I found myself comparing my failure with my friends who had passed upon their first try—was I not as smart?

Growing up in a competitive environment like Westport, I have always succumbed to the pressure to take the most rigorous course load, achieve the highest possible

GPA and participate in every extracurricular. I was conditioned to seek validation from others, even if it meant taking advice that might not work for me. But, as I reflect upon the past four years, my most positive experiences have been when I listened to my own needs and aspirations.

I recall reading through the high school course offerings in eighth grade and Intro to Journalism catching my eye. Being a primarily math and science student, a journalism class seemed random for me. Nonetheless, I put it down as my first choice.

In my first Introduction to Journalism class on the first day of freshman year, I sat in the front row, surrounded by senior boys who were a foot and a half taller than me with facial hair. Needless to say, the class was daunting; I felt dis couraged and even considered dropping into Graphic Design. But, I decided to take a risk and sit next to one of the only other freshmen in the class. (Little did I know, we would find each other again as co-Web Managing Editors.)

Miraculously, I made the decision to enroll in Advanced Journalism. Three years later, Inklings has been the most meaningful part of my academic career. Leading a staff of 15 editors has taught me the importance of teamwork and being an effective leader. I am constantly inspired by their work, and if it weren’t for my unexpected enrollment in journalism, I would have never met this group of hardworking students, much less made the decision to go to journalism school.

You are the expert on your own life: everyone is different, and no singular academic path or strategy suits

Plans of perfection are overrated: fulfillment is

Finnegan Courtney ‘23 Executive TV Producer

“The best path is not the one you set for yourself, but the one you find along the way.”

This was actually a quote of my own that has gone down in history - Inklings history, at least. I made this statement on my last day as an Inklings senior leader, and it was part words represented my destiny, even though I was THREE YEARS AWAY from possibly getting such a position.

Years passed, and I made friends and got to know advisors (hey, Fulco and DGobbs!) who I’ll always remember and love. I picked up an editor position and learned from an amazing co-editor and mentor as a sophomore, all the while or of being satisfied with it, at first, it was an adjustment. After all, letting go of my four-year plan to become Editor-in-Chief doesn’t just get forgotten in a day’s time. I knew nothing about creating a TV show from the ground up, let alone running it afterward. “Why me?” were the only words that came to mind. Nevertheless, I tried my best to go into just weeks before. And then June 9 rolled around, and in that moment, I had a realization: This could work. This will work. Call it galvanization, call it whatever you please, but the rush of finding a recording studio and setting up for a show minutes before we were supposed to film was exhilarating. That first show was put together with scotch-tape and