As a senior at Concord Academy, there is almost nothing I know for certain. I do not yet know what college I will go to. I don’t know what my spring trip to Georgia would have been like. I do not even know if the train will come on time or not. I will begin this article by saying to you, reader: I do not know what you need to hear or what advice is applicable to you or not. My words can only confirm or deny what is in your heart already, as buried as those truths may be.
I believe that there is a certain power in admitting that you do not know. In fact, my journey at CA began from a place of not knowing. I was hiding out from the pandemic in a rural condominium in Pyeongchang when an email told me I had gotten off the waitlist for Concord Academy. After a string of rejections everywhere else, my dad had already paid the re-enrollment fee to my old school just in case my options ran dry. My relief at the good news quickly overlapped with shame and anxiety.
I used to rarely reveal that CA was the only school I was accepted to. Not because that in itself was a bad thing, but because it happened to a version of me I wanted to forget. The me who entered high school unprepared, lazy, and most of all, not knowing what lay in store. The me who returned to America as a practical foreigner in the country I grew up in, and an evident imposter among driven, talented peers.
Now I know that uncertainty was precisely what I needed to grow. We are lucky enough to go to a school that tries to meet us where we are and tugs us along with a mentoring hand. When I realized this, I felt empowered to take on things that were unknown to me. Everything I have done and achieved at CA—from captaining the ski team to being on council or meeting my closest friends—was once just a “possibility.” All possibility lies in uncertainty. Which possibilities will come true and which will pass through? I just don’t know. With this confession, I open the door to life.
That leads me to my second piece of advice: when you have the choice between memories and routine, choose memories. Everyone should live their life by hard work. But when so much of the work we do here is in the name of things we are not actually passionate about, remember that you have a choice. Memories are the currency of the soul, and the foundation with which you will judge, feel, and create the experiences of the future. Say yes to your friend when they want to sneak out with you the night before an exam. Say yes to going to that concert on a Sunday evening. With practiced reason and a steady spirit, ask yourself what you will remember in three years: a good grade and the indifferent approval of others, or a timeless memory.