As Jordyn Flows

Introduction 

Junior year is full of diversions, twists and turns. Looking through my rear view mirror, I can honestly say my outlook and experiences this year resemble a river. Continuously turning and adjusting, a river is in constant flow, whether it’s rippling and bumpy or smooth and serene.   

Coincidentally, the Jordan River is located in the Middle East, flowing through the Great Rift Valley into the Dead Sea. According to the Bible, it is both religiously and historically sacred. Other than serving as a water supply, geographically the Jordan River is highly important in that it serves as a “bone of contention” between Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Israel.  

In entering the Dead Sea, the Jordan River's final destination is just one of many ways of how my life is analogous with this body of water. Prior to junior year, I was content flowing freely throughout familiar land and conditions. These conditions include: academics, tennis, family, and friends. Yet, this year I traveled into foreign territory, its name  . . . eleventh grade. Both disconcerting and as many claim “life-altering”, all I wanted was to turn back time and flow back up stream. Eleventh grade is ice cold; it challenges you to either dive in head first or to be a coward, hesitantly dipping your feet to test the water. What would be my approach: to listen to the horror stories of junior veterans staying up until 2 A.M. or to be a non-conformist by trying to prevent all the emphasis put on the importance of this year from taking over my life? As a walking contradiction, I applied these two different mentalities to separate areas in my life.  

From an academic standpoint I vowed to find a happy medium between these two extremes for this year, which was following the high expectations that I always set for myself. These expectations specifically entailed that I would work consistently hard and therefore see the same results as previous years. My mindset to maintain the same level of intensity was restricting to say the least. While believing that my best work would come from favorite subjects (English, History, and Spanish) I simultaneously accepted mediocrity in my other classes. In trying to maintain a levelheaded approach amidst the academic hype this year; my reasons for selling my self-short were rationality at it’s finest. I assumed that the water would be warm enough to go in for a dip; yet, I was wrong.  

In both English and History, I felt well prepared and if I applied my skills from previous years then it would be smooth sailing. Well, once again my assumptions proved to be counter-productive. Upon receiving my first English paper and History test, I was disappointed in myself and frustrated.  It was not the grade that really bothered me; it was what that B represented. It was though someone wrote in the Penn Charter Bulletin “Jordyn Shaffer=Typical” I was used to overachieving, feeling as though I were on my ‘A-game’ and if not then close to it.  

In retrospect, there were numerous reasons why my academic performance in the fall was less than stellar. First, I was under the impression that all Penn Charter teachers were alike in their expectations. Mr. Franek urged his students to find their inner voice, an internal listening skill that I was never exposed to before. I had never once written a personal pronoun (“I”) in my paper until this year. Truthfully, I was so used to analyzing an author’s language that in many ways I forgot my own writing voice. Undoubtedly, the results of my first trimester served as an incentive for me to push myself throughout the rest of the year.  

Furthermore, I found that my English class was extremely relative to my everyday life. My peers and I expressed our own opinions on current events and I felt really connected to what was going on in the world for a change. While in the past I might have had the tendency to ignore breaking news due to writing an analytical paper, Mr. Franek now provided me the opportunity to gain insight about these thought provoking and current issues and chime in on them as well.  His intertwining of current events and anecdotes with the books that we were reading was both innovative and engaging. In the process of editing my post this year, I noticed that the firmness and fluidity of my inner voice and reasoned opinion improved dramatically.  

Other than the mere fact that my name is quite similar to the Jordan River, its characteristics apply to other areas of my life as well as my personality. Just when I thought that I was going to bump into a corner, I proved my doubts wrong and continued to flow downstream. And when I thought that I would never veer back on course, I surprised myself and meandered on. Discovering Tributaries is my subtitle since the Jordan River has tributaries and is actually a tributary as well (hence the Dead Sea).

There are many experiences, lessons, and sides of me that I view as tributaries during the last year for they form the underlying foundation of who I am today.  Like most teenagers trying to figure out who they are (as cliché as it sounds) my passions and personal interests have helped me on my path to self discovery. For example, this past fall I competed in the most emotionally and physically agonizing match that I have ever played. It was against my friend Lauren, who was one of the few girls that I related to and socialized with off the court. In Marietta, Georgia and St. Louis we stuck beside each others side for we were Middle States tennis girls, competing against the crème of the crop: the Eastern and Southern Sections. We were always neck in neck, ranked behind one another, qualifying to the same round, winning and losing against the same people.  

She had a fierce forehand, always hit with pace, and was known for her amazing footwork. If you hit a ball . . . somehow she retrieved it. Her Serena esq grunt and confident walk on the court demonstrated her confidence. As usual I attempted to psyche myself out, reminding myself of all her strengths as we began to warm up. An hour and a half had passed, and to my amazement I had won the first set, which ended in a twenty minute long tiebreaker. Sure, I was elated that I had claimed the first set, but our match just began. Unfortunately, from the running and long baseline points I already felt winded.  

Two bottles of water later and used towels full of sweat, Lauren fought back and took the second set. At this point it was 5:30 PM and our match began at 2:45 PM. In addition, matches that had started after us were now over. We were the only two left in the tennis club, banging the ball back and forth. She and I sat there in silence, now on our ten-minute break, gulping Gatorade, catching our breath, heads bent and shoulders hung over. After those minutes had passed, I vowed to myself that I would walk off this court victorious. Now each point counted, I would have to take advantage of every opportunity I had. I am positive that Lauren was thinking the same thing and as we began to switch sides on a change over at the first game of the third set (which was full of numerous deuces and advantages) Lauren and I broke our game faces and just started laughing. We both shook are heads in agreement that this was just ridiculous for this match was already three hours long and our third set just started.  

Although we still were grunting as loud as we could, I began to push the ball due to the increasing pain I felt in my quads and calves. I assumed that Lauren was hurting too considering that she took a spill on the court in attempt to dive for a ball at three all. Each point lasted forever because we were now running on empty, lacking the energy required to smack the ball out of our opponents reach. After these year long points I can recall that my legs began to shake and felt the sudden urge that I was about to throw up. For both of us tears rolled out between and during points. Why were we doing this to ourselves? This excruciating stalemate was an everlasting battle. You are probably thinking, “Jordyn can you just get to the point who won, Shaffer or Hamilton?” Well, Shaffer lost 7-6, 4-6, 5-7 and this four-hour match that ended up resulting in a big L ate her inside out.  As I walked up to the net to whisper to my friend, “nice match” and shake her hand, I could not even say this and just started to cry. We stood there at the net post, arms clasped around each other as we cried and then some laughter followed of course. No we did not bawl because we were emotional female athletes. Rather, it was a mutual experience that would shape both Lauren and me as competitors. Never have I focused so intently and put my mind over matter throughout those four hours. At the time this loss drove me absolutely nuts. 

I could not sleep, eat, or go on the computer without clenching my fist.  In retrospect, I realize now that there will always be a winner and a loser and sometimes the result is out of one’s control. This match has shaped my will, my incessant need to grind out each challenge I embark on. I may not win quickly or I may not win at all; however, my determination as exemplified in this match continues to grow. The funny thing was that this match was not even in the main draw, it was not worth a lot of points and no one was watching (granted that it lasted all day). The only people watching the match were our mothers. Every time I step on the court to compete, this match still resonates with me. I no longer feel like I am fighting for myself, but that I am fighting for Lauren as well. 

And then there are more lighthearted pieces of me: reading historical biographies about influential females, hiking, snowboarding, wakeboarding, and engulfing Vogue in one sitting. Even my favorite movies and musicians contribute to the seventeen year old that I am today. My tendency to laugh at everything my guy friends say, regardless of whether or not it is amusing, is a trite attribute.  

In the Jordan River there are many tributaries that run into each other. This same pattern applies to my character traits too. I am passionate and strong willed when I play ping pong as well as when I get in a heated debate. Nonetheless, the smallest learning experience from my sophomore year has grown, which is perspective. Like my English teacher Mr. Franek says prior to explaining an assignment, “This is not stressful, fighting in Iraq is stressful.” I completely agree with this statement and in many ways recognizing it was what this year was all about. Amidst the college talk and standardized test, I admit that it was difficult to maintain a perspective. I sweat the small stuff, but I began to learn how to catch myself. 

Unfortunately, I injured my right arm this year and thus painfully learned how to achieve some real perspective on life. Traveling from an orthopedic to a sport medicine doctor, the diagnosis was an intense case of tendonitis that resulted from over use and a weak upper body. The solution? Take off four months to go to physical therapy to build my upper body strength and get rid of all the scar tissue. When I first injured my arm, I literally thought my life was ending. This was my life-altering year athletically as well. I was playing so well this summer and boom! - I was unable to hold a pencil let alone a tennis racket.  

Each day I came in to school with a new brace from the nearest drug store, each brace reminding me of my inability to be cured with the snap of my fingers. The longest break that I took from tennis was in the fifth grade, and it was for two weeks. Now, I was not used to coming home with absolutely nothing to do besides homework nor was I acclimated to having more of a social life. I used to wish for more time, now all I wanted to do was to be on a stringent schedule and take an eight hour drive to play a couple matches in Erie, Pa. My mom thought I was depressed since I claimed my existence, “no longer had a purpose.” (I know I am quite the Drama Queen). I am humiliated as I share these details, but I am only doing this to explain how seriously I was in need of perspective.  

My close friend continuously tried to remind me to be thankful that I had two arms and two legs that worked. Despite this, I only thought about myself, how horrible this situation was, when in reality it was nothing in comparison to other people’s issues. He was right, I was healthy and that was all that mattered. In many ways injuring my arm at Champs on that cold day in November was a blessing in disguise. I began to focus more on school work, grew a new appreciation for the game, and realized the importance of taking care of my body. Above all, I learned how to put this miniscule set back into perspective. I now have a greater sense of where my life is in the scheme of things and how truly fortunate I am. I am healthy, attend William Penn Charter, and have the ability and the luck to pursue things that I love to do.  

Moreover, I realized that one should not always be defined by what they do. Though I have shared two stories about tennis, this sport does not determine who I am. I have discovered many other components that make me well, me. It is overwhelming to think about all of the high tides and low tides that I have encountered this year. At times I felt like I was drowning and other times I felt as though I was floating peacefully. With a developing sense of clarity, I began to contemplate the ways of the world. Some of these topics included global warming, Darfur, and the role that the media plays in the way that people perceive the world. My blog was the vehicle that enabled me to ponder these mind boggling issues. I am sure that with extra time I could embellish my blog and as a result make it more creative. Equally, the simplicity of a blog is more appealing to me then a pretty chapbook. It is raw and candid, an open door for anyone to learn about my experiences, and my view on novels and current events. As I matured this year these so-called periods of peaceful reflection occurred more frequently than before. Outside the classroom I have become more in tune with my surroundings, my inner voice and most importantly the people that I care about. Ultimately, when I write, think and act with ease I am most insightful if I have to say so myself. It is the still water that runs the deepest. I am lucky  that I was able to gain this perspective early enough in the year; otherwise, my journey down the Jordan River might have resembled the Egyptians experience in the Red Sea.