I did my best: overcoming the pursuit of praise | Gabrielle Presbitero | TEDxDePaulUniversity

Gabrielle Presbitero was only 16 years old when she began her college career at DePaul University. In her TEDxDePaulUniversity presentation, "I did my best: Overcoming the Pursuit of Praise," she discusses what life is like "without medals" and discovering her own identity.

Presbitero was 7 years old when her family immigrated to the north side of Chicago, and has since split her time between the U.S. and her native Philippines. She was 16 years old when she began her college career at DePaul University. The different cultures she was immersed in as a young child provided her with a unique perspective on motivation and self-growth. Her drive to succeed stems greatly from her parents, whose perseverance and work ethic embody the promise of the American Dream. Now a sophomore, Presbitero studies biology and enjoys her work in scientific research.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

My name's Gabrielle, and I'm eighteen.

And truth is,
I haven't made it in any way,

and I'm not an expert in any sport,
or any phenomenon, or any field.

(Laughter)

So, lots of you may be wondering
why I'm here today.

(Laughter)

I'm not an expert in anything,

but I am an expert in my ideas,
in my truths, in my experiences,

and that is why I stand before you today.

So before I start, let me tell you
how this all came to be.

I was born in the Philippines
and I've spent most of my life there.

I was born in the city called Davao,

and every year I go back,

and I get to see my family,
and I get to spend time with my friends.

I also get to visit my old High School.

The first time I was there,
it was the winter of my freshman year.

I got to see my old English teacher,

and he gave me the chance
to speak to a senior class.

And I didn't know what to say.

I had just started college
three months before that,

and it was a very odd place to be,

because just earlier that year

I was kind of friends
with the students in his class,

and I was wearing the same uniform,

and, essentially, I was one of them.

So I told them words of encouragement
and words of reassurance,

the things that they wanted to hear,

because I didn't want to scare them.

But today, I think of what I would
actually tell them.

First, I would encourage them

to immerse themselves
in a new environment.

Growing up in the more
privileged part of town,

the odds weren't necessarily
stacked against me.

And everyone kind of knew,
or knew of each other,

but let me ask you today:

does the name Gabrielle Presbitero
rings any bells to you?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

(Laughter)

So being in a new environment
has afforded me the opportunity

to carve an identity for myself,
apart from whatever is expected of me,

largely in part because
there aren't any expectations.

Next, I would encourage them
to keep the culture of excellence alive.

I was raised to be an achiever,

and that thirst, that will,
that drive to succeed

is such a big part of who I am.

Back in my High School,

it was my goal to be
at the quarterly recognition program.

It was a program where medals
and certificates were given out

to students who excelled academically.

And back in my time it was held
on a Tuesday morning,

where the honor students
had to sit in front,

and the rest of the student body

watched the program
from a separate section.

It was this culture of competitiveness

that drove me to achieve
what I thought I couldn't.

It brought out the best in me.

But here's what I wouldn't tell them.

First I would say that sometimes
the hardest person to convince

that you belong
and that you are deserving is yourself.

Truth is, I didn't know what to do

when I first started
writing this TEDx talk.

I'm eighteen,

and in the company
of experienced professionals

with revolutionizing ideas.

And not being able to feed off
the belief that other people had in me,

challenged my own self-belief.

Next, I would say
that the recognition you seek

in your medals, in your trophies,
in your certificates, yeah,

these don't equate
to a purpose that you serve.

When I started college,

I realized that these medals
were the life-line to my motivation.

And when I began
a life without medals, I was lost.

And I knew I needed to work hard,

but since these medals were gone,
I had a very vague sense why.

So, let me tell you this:

as humans, it is in our nature
to turn to something we can see,

or turn to something that we can feel,

to represent something we can't.

And we zero in so much
in who we want to be

and what we want to achieve,

that we forget that the self-growth
comes with the process.

All my life when I've faltered
I've always said, "I did my best."

And I've always treated that
as a consolation.

The afterthought to that was always,
"But it wasn't enough."

In fact, I should've been saying this,

"I did my best,

and it is through this failure
that my best gets a little better."

And that is not a consolation,
but, in fact, it is the prize.

Thank you.

(Applause)