I have come to learn that lessons can be packaged in many different forms – some quietly, many painfully, and others without warning. In my case, I was met with a combination of all three at once.
When I began my high school years, my mind raced with questions, worries, and wonders, each one making the easiest questions seem complex. I sought guidance to help me overcome these self-doubts from teachers, peers, and counselors, but everyone I went to led me to a dead end, including myself. The only thing I was left to do was hope, praying for a sign of guidance.
Although it was hard to notice, I was growing—mentally and physically—and the only sign that my body revealed was an unexpected sensation hidden in the back of my mouth. My wisdom teeth ached and slowly pushed against my jaw, a symbol of my body’s development. At first, I barely noticed the ache. It was subtle and seemed minimal compared to the bigger questions I tackled: “Will I ever feel confident? Does it get easier?. Each impulse in my jaw seemed to be parallel with the tension in my mind, almost like my wisdom teeth were responding to my thoughts.
As the months passed, the academic stress grew, and my jaw’s discomfort followed with more intensity. The pain became impossible to ignore, growing more abrupt with each new day. After months of pain, I went to the doctor and within a couple of days the discomfort would be removed—or so I thought.
The initial discomfort from my wisdom teeth was removed within thirty minutes. To my surprise, I was met with a second, more aggressive stage of discomfort in the form of recovery. I had always thought recovery would be the easiest stage, but I was mistaken. Even when I thought I was healed, I was met with an even worse form of pain that lasted weeks. I wanted the pain to go away immediately, but learned I needed to be patient. I was forced into embracing the discomfort and learned that impatience would only hurt my progress.
The academic worries that once felt never-ending in my little ninth-grade brain vanished after I confronted my wisdom teeth. Looking back, I realized that confronting and embracing discomfort and being patient is essential to personal growth. What had seemed like a punishment, was actually an answered prayer, delivered through my wisdom teeth. I realized that the guidance I had been seeking was given to me by my own body all along. I have learned that personal growth does not feel good at first, and I am no longer afraid of questioning the pain that it produces, because I now understand that the outcome is confidence. I have learned to stop rushing the process and to exhibit patience even when it seems impossible.
Even after the physical pain faded, the lesson remained. I began noticing the subtle discomforts that I face every day: the “misplaced” shoes that my family swears they didn’t move or the nervous pause before asking a question in class. Slowly, I learned that these small discomforts all happen for a reason and should be valued as moments to utilize, rather than avoid. I have started applying this mindset into my academic settings, allowing myself to transform the embarrassment of failure into a chance to learn and grow.
Many seniors proudly say their most valuable lesson came from their Grandmother or their favorite movie character—I am proud to say that mine came from my wisdom teeth. Though they can not speak, the life advice I gained from them—”Pain is never a mistake; it is a signal that you are growing”—is something that I carried with me throughout high school.
As I approach my graduation, I am excited to apply this mindset into the challenges I will face in college: “Who will be my roommate? Will I make friends?“ There will always be worries in my mind, but because of the lesson my wisdom teeth taught me four years ago, I know I will always survive and come back stronger.
