Beneath the shadow of a Princetonian

Intro:

We’ve known our older siblings from the very day we were born, and since then we’ve been ruled by their benevolent dictatorships; essentially, we’ve had “third parents” since day one.

It’s been fun, but it’s also been terrible.

This is the story of two Princeton geniuses who graced our plebeian lives.
 

Kevin:

“Introduce yourself with your name and one interesting fact about yourself.”

A jumble of names and introductions snaked across the classroom, until it was my turn. I ignored my pounding heart and the one-liners fighting frantically inside of my brain, and I stood up.

“Hi,” I said. “My name is Kevin Chow.”

A long silence. I watched juniors and seniors, veteran Falcon staff writers who had either known or worked with my brother when he was the Opinion editor, exchange looks.

“Isn’t that Nick Chow’s brother?”

Someone started clapping — then the whole class was clapping. There were yells of approval from several onlookers: “Prince Chow! Prince Chow!” I waded in the sea of applause, beholding my brother’s legacy.

That was my first day of school.

In that moment, Nick more than figuratively defined me, and there’s a backstory behind that.

My brother is a responsible person. Responsible to the point that he finds it necessary to be responsible for my actions. He’s the type of person who starts college apps during the summer of junior year and finishes them just as December begins.

Also, he is smart. Sort of.

To sum it up, my brother is the ideal third parent.

People at school refer to Nick as “Prince Chow,” mostly because he got into Princeton last year. But the way I see it, it’s also because he wields authority effectively, a skill finely honed by my existence.

My brother’s influence shows up in my personality, which I’d say is unnaturally subservient. Living with my brother required that I establish a compensated symbiotic relationship in order to survive. An example of this would be performing his manual labor in exchange for help on homework.

Homework help was only a small part of the educational guidance that Nick provided. During his junior year, he suffered through a course load decorated with at least 20 APs (or at least that’s what it seemed like). In addition, he had to crusade through the SAT I. He had a variety of other commitments to deal with as well, including but not limited to practicing piano, winning tournaments for History Bowl, planning his Eagle project and (as he believes) improperly managing his time.

He remembers that year as a roller-coaster death trap.

Hence, Nick felt that it was necessary to prepare me for my junior year by issuing the edict that I must finish taking the SAT I beforehand, so that I could deal with the rest of my extracurriculars.

That began quite the experience, one that I have yet to see the result of, but I’d say that this is a prime example of his educational influence.

Now that he’s gone off to Princeton, it’s funny how much room there is for me to misuse my time. It’s all a test now. After school, I have to close myself out of the room with the computers and force myself to be productive first.

When Nick came back to Saratoga during Thanksgiving break, a whole two months after his departure, something was different. I was a person who had survived third-parental absence and had lived without ever resorting to desperate measures.

It took me a while to realize that I no longer had three parents, and at that thought, I transcended into individuality.

College has changed our dynamic. Now he’s forced to see that I have a life to stumble through on my own. But most importantly, now I’m finally learning to be self-sufficient.

Maybe some time in the future I’ll accidentally mess up, choose a course I’ll come to regret, forget to take an SAT Subject Test when I should have, all because Nick will not be there to watch over me.

But now I have a chance to take away that second name of mine — Nick Chow’s brother — and try my luck at some independence.

Then, maybe some day, I’ll have a better interesting fact on the first day of school.

 

Jenny:

If you know my brother, Hansen Qian, a 2012 SHS graduate, you’d also know that we are complete opposites.

Even though we joined the same sports teams and tutoring classes when we were little, our differences in personalities and interests grew as we did. While my brother was constantly away at math and science competitions, I spent much of my time inside a gym, playing in basketball tournaments.

In high school, my brother was a very independent student  and rarely needed help from my parents. He excelled in all of his classes and still made time to be orchestra manager playing cello,  a part of Science Bowl and a member of the speech and debate team.

Outside of school, he studied for the SAT on his own and took extra classes at near-by community colleges for additional credit. He was also a regional finalist in the 2011-12 Siemens competition with his project that tried to improve the power output of polymer electrolyte membrane hydrogen fuel cell using gold and palladium nanoparticles as catalysts for the fuel cell reaction.

Now at Princeton and majoring in computer science, my brother has left an enormous legacy. My parents and their posse of Chinese friends and relatives all expect me to exhibit the same self-proficiency Hansen possesses. I’m even expected to attend a university of the same caliber as Princeton. But I’ll be honest: the word “Princeton” intimidates me, as it is always followed by a barrage of questions about my own plans for the future.

What’s more, while Hansen was able to carve his own path, my future was planned out for me the minute I stepped onto the SHS campus. My parents had my entire life charted out for the next four years based on what my brother had done in high school. I would take all the classes my brother took, get involved in clubs like he did, become a National Merit Scholar and be prepared to dominate in the Siemens competition my junior year,  a surefire method to guarantee the same success he had.

The plan seemed all right, but it wasn’t until I actually started to prepare for these activities that I realized I had no passion or motivation to continue them . To make matters worse, I was struggling in all the classes that my brother had breezed through.

I was constantly worried and had no idea how I could fulfill the expectations for me held by the people who knew my brother. I already had a hard time getting decent grades in my Algebra 2 Honors class, let alone competing in math competitions. For a while, I told myself that I wasn’t trying hard enough and that I had to force myself to like it in order to succeed. But there was still no progress in my interests.

My parents tried everything to help me out, from signing me up for tutoring to sending me to different programs to help define my interests. They hoped that like my brother, I would be able to find something I enjoyed and was good at enough to pursue.

Even my brother could tell that I was seriously struggling, but as he was trying to survive college himself and was on the other side of the country, he could not do much to help me. The most he could do was offer me words of motivation.

After my freshman year ended, I felt trapped; my world was just one class after another, a monotonous routine that was suffocating me slowly. I needed a break. So, unlike my friends, who were beginning SAT prep and taking summer courses, I decided to go to Seoul, South Korea, as an exchange student.

In Korea, I attended Korean classes each day and learned more about Korean culture. The ability to explore a different culture gave me a whole other perspective. I began to finally realize that it was OK that I was not an uber genius at math, science or music. The fact that I was in a foreign country by myself forced me to become more independent and responsible. In a way, I matured far more than I could have hoped to in Saratoga.

The other exchange students I met on the trip were from all around the world, where it was more common for people to pursue diverse jobs, such as being a diplomat, tour-guide or singer. The open-minded atmosphere reassured me that there was more to life than academics.

Through the experiences that I had and the new people I met on  my trip, I realized that I had gotten myself out of this dark pit.  I realized that it was all right to struggle on my own, to be self-sufficient.

My brother has also been an enormous help in my growing confidence. He constantly reminds me to stop trying to fill his shoes, since we are  two different people with each of our own passions, strengths and weaknesses. And after listening to him  and experiencing a world outside of academics, I’ve finally understood that although I don’t have a clear plan, I know to put my energy into the things that I love. And that was the first time I truly understood that I’m unique (and not in the cliched, college-app way either!)