Educated by Tara Westover

There’s only one word I can think of when I finished reading this memoir: empowering.  

Coming from a girl, born into an extremely Mormon family in Idaho.  From a girl who had never stepped into a classroom until she was 17 years old, who had never been to a doctor, who lived with an abusive father and brother until she broke away to Brigham Young University, who didn’t even know her own date of birth.  Educated is a memoir about a woman who was torn between two selves.  The first of which wanted to remain loyal to her family, father, and her religion, and the second of which hindered her from doing so when she found out how blinded she had become as a result of this attachment.    

Westover writes passionately, and the beautiful thing about this memoir, is that all her feelings and memories are spilled out so vividly onto the pages it felt as if I were in her shoes, there with her, 20 years ago.  Westover writes a unique narration about her life, something most people wouldn’t relate to today, but thoughtfully weaves in pieces about family, about school, about relationships, about struggles with finances, about getting governmental support, and about rebelling making her seemingly too-unique-to-be-true memoir relatable to all in some way or form.  

For me, perhaps the most heart-wrenching moment in the book was during the time Westover was working towards her doctorate degree in history at Cambridge.  It was during this time that she and her sister had planned to tell her parents about their older brother, Shawn, abusing them when they were kids and suggesting he receive assistance before he abuses his wife.  Westover and her sister planned on telled their parents, but then her sister recklessly throws her under the bus and tells the family that Tara is crazy to think Shawn was abusive.  From then on, Tara’s relationship with her parents and all of her family becomes divisive and in a way, she is unspokenly disowned.  She tries to pull back into the family, to explain what happened, but her father has told everyone (extended family included) of Tara’s acclaimed mental instability.  She is even rejected by her own mother, who only recently regretted not playing her role as a mother.  

Westover is confused by her own thoughts.  Perhaps everyone in her family is correct in casting her aside as she studies across the Atlantic.  She works through memories, and thoughts, trying to find some thread to prove to herself that everything she has said about Shawn is true, and to prove to herself that she isn’t crazy as everyone now believes her to be.   It is in this moment when her third brother, who inspired her to go to college and is a doctor himself, connects with her and confirms the abuse from Shawn and Westover finds her linkage to sanity. Then her youngest brother, Richard, who was at the time working on a PhD in chemistry calls and confirms the statement and they becomes Tara’s allies in a family with seven children divided simply by who had a doctorates degree and who didn’t have a high school diploma. 

Tara Westover’s story is indubitably unique, but she writes in a heart-wrenching touching manner that makes every moment of it come to life beautifully.  Earlier, I wrote that the word I would use to describe my feelings after reading Educated was empowering.  Empowering, because here was a girl who came from nothing, who was given nothing, and who wasn’t allowed to achieve anything besides her predestined life on a farm, who took what little education, opportunity, resources, money she had been given, and made a better life out of it.  As a reader, I felt every success, failure, and emotion Westover went through as described in the memoir and while it was a bit of a slow start, the lessons I’ve read about and the way the book made me reflect upon my own life when I finished it, made it well worth the read.  

True confidence

As kids we’re always told, believe in yourself! You can do it! In general, I would say I’m a fairly confident person.  At school, when I work on projects and new ideas, I push for what I want to happen and I’m not afraid of a little setback.  I had a tennis tournament today, and while it’s certainly not the first match I’ve played, it occurred to me how easily my confidence can be shattered on the courts.  

We’re playing two set matches and it’s my second match of the day. I win the first set 6-2, but the second set, I get bogged down and the match goes back and forth between my opponent and I.  She has a lead, 0-2.  Then I catch up to 2-2, but she pulls ahead 4-2, and we eventually even out at 5-5.  I barely pull off the second set 7-5. 

When I reflected on my playing with my dad, I thought about how much more easily the first set came then that second set.  Perhaps it was because of natural elements; the increasing heat, the sun getting higher in the sky, my increasing fatigue.  But my dad argues differently.  He noticed how I messed up about three shots consecutively in the second set and right off the bat, my confidence began to deteriorate with each mistake.  But how wouldn’t?  It’s a pretty natural phenomenon, when we think we’ve locked down on the point, when we think we’ve set up the next shot with the utmost perfection in timing and position, only to be utterly defeated when we make an unforced error on the shot that was supposed to win the point, the shot we’d set up so meticulously.  

I’ve noticed how it only gets on my nerves when I’m the one who makes the mistake.  For some reason, when my opponent successfully executes a winner or a dropshot, it doesn’t nag at my confidence as much.  I almost just move and say, eh, it was a good shot! But when it’s me making the mistake, me hitting it long, or me missing the net because my arm stiffened, it drags at my confidence the most.  It’s as if I don’t trust my own abilities to play, which leads to my strokes shortening and I am unable to bring out my best game or play how I usually play.  

It happens.  But the best of players don’t let it get on their nerves and perhaps this is the greatest difference between the good player and the best player.  The good player will start off with the upper hand, leading and dominating the point, but after a few consecutive points in a row of error, their confidence fails and they are often unable to bring themselves back to the skill level they were playing at before.  I realize now that the better player will accept these mistakes and even while they may pull at the scorecards, the better player knows that they cannot let it affect their ability to bring out the best in their game.  I believe this is true confidence.

Life's moving conveyor belt

Human behavior intrigues me.  This post may just be a series of questions, but it’s something that’s been on my mind lately.  In my previous post, I wrote about how I met an array of people at camp.  I met the types of kids I wouldn’t find at any school I’ve been to.  That got me wondering, do we behave differently around different people.  

I’ve written about my two selves before.  There’s the side of me that is serious, the down-to-business side of me, but there’s also that side of me that my family and my close friends know of.  The side that is lighter, the side that doesn’t care what others think, a.k.a., my more outgoing side.  At camp, even though I was surrounded by people I’d known for barely two weeks, I found my second side manifest with a magnitude it doesn’t even reveal at school with people I’ve known for months.  

I kept wondering why I allowed myself to open up so easily, and also why other people in my camp also were able to open up in ways they were surprised about as well.  On the last day, there was a talent show and one of my friends was indecisive about whether she wanted to perform.  After some thought, she said she would.  I asked her what drew her to that side of the dilemma.  She said, “I’m never gonna see these people again, so it doesn’t matter”.   I’m never gonna see these people again, so it doesn’t matter.  

I wonder whether people really do act differently if they know they’ll never see anyone from a particular crowd/group of people again.  To what extent?  Is it a matter of reputation protection when we choose to show only self one?  Is this why I was able to show self 2 with people whom I barely knew but knew I’d never see again?  I suppose a lot of what is factored into decision making is outcomes.  Perhaps we balance things on a scale in our heads and think, if I do this, I could be temporarily famous, and if I mess up, I know I’ll never see these people again. 

But then, I stopped and thought about that idea of never seeing certain people again.  In school, part of the reason I only show my self 1 is because I know I will encounter this people again.  I realized I was wrong.  I believe in this world, there’s really only one group of people whom most people will see consistently.  Sad as it is, most people whom we meet on the streets, sit next to on the plane, even go to school with, we will never encounter again.  After high school, I will probably never see the majority of the kids in my grade.  We will all be off to different colleges, different jobs, and lead expectedly different lives.  Family, and people who I consider close friends are probably the only people I will ever see consistently in my life.  

That makes me question the morality of the human lifestyle.  We seem to just go through and through with things, especially in the 21st century.  We’re ceaselessly leaving things behind, picking new things up, trying new things out, and then leaving those to pursue new hobbies and likings. The people we meet in our lives are often just the same.  We leave behind old friends and meet new ones.  We work with new people and then move on.  My english teacher this year described life as a moving conveyor belt, where we’re just constantly moving, rarely stopping, all heading towards the ultimate moment in our lives with every passing second.  Perhaps he’s right.  

Harvard Debate Camp

I completed two weeks at the Harvard Debate Camp yesterday.  While the first week of the camp was focused on public speaking, this second week was about debate and argumentation.  We learned a very formal debate format and we argued the resolution: the benefits of open borders outweigh the harms. 

Debate.  There’s actually a personality called “The Debater” on the 16 personalities test, though I’m not one myself.  An additional quality about me is that I usually just take for granted what people tell me.  My brief introduction to debate has taught me how to challenge what people tell me so that I am capable of forming my own opinions and beliefs.  When people tell me X is bad, I can now ask myself, Great, but how could X also have a positive effect? How could this statement actually be false? I’m beginning to challenge ideas, rather than eat up whatever information people feed me. 

I’ve never done a formal debate, though I’ve been in casual class debates in history.  This week was enlightening, I received a quick introduction to debate and argumentation, and I’ve learned multitudinous debate terms, like resolved, affirmative, refutation, and contention.  When I first walked into the second week, I thought the hardest part of the debate would be constructing a rock solid case that was impossible to take down by my opponent.  I was mistaken, building my own case was actually not the hardest part.   The hardest part of the debate was also not taking down my opponent’s case.  The hardest part of debate for me was keeping organized.  

One of key components that I’ve learned through participating in this debate tournament at camp, is that everything that is mentioned or said must have an argument, defense, or attack.  I made the mistake of leaving my opponent’s rebuttal to one of my three contentions untouched, in which case, he took as factual and that I supported the claim even though I didn’t.  For that purpose, we were taught to flow, which is to chart where the conversation goes, that way, all contentions that are touched upon can be tracked.  

While at this camp I was able to learn debate skills and hone my public speaking skills, at this camp I was being able to interact with different types of people.  I didn’t realize this before, but at school, people get along very well in almost all circumstances and personalities are very compatible.  Perhaps it is because we are in school, everyone is tired, people are stressed, but there’s a particular aura of sternness that makes everyone so similar.  This year, I was also the youngest in the school, which is why I may have felt like everyone around me was so mature. 

Perhaps it is also because the people at school are older, but at camp, I met an impressive array of people.  There were people who were very hyper all the time, people who loved to be a part of drama, people who never stopped talking, people who could get on anyones nerves, people who were shy etc.  It amazes me to reflect on how many different kinds of people I met at camp.  Perhaps these same people who were hyper all the time, are mellow during the school year, or the ones that enjoyed causing drama are actually unconcerned at school.  Regardless of who they may be at school, in retrospect, I encountered and met an array of different kinds of people, with different personalities.  I learned how to talk, how to work, and how to interact with different kinds of people, different from the people at school. In fact, I’ve never met anyone like some of the kids I’ve met at this camp and it was a true pleasure being able to learn from them. 

Being social.  For me that may be one of the most critical areas of development.  I admire people who are able to start and sustain conversations with everyone, and I’m not going to lie, I’ve met many of these kinds of people.  I agree that I’m able to start conversations, but the array of people I’m able to have these conversations with is not as scopious as I would hope. School is definitely a place where I try to reach out and get to know people and their interests.  This camp threw me off by surprise when I realized how many different kinds of people there were.  Being more sociable with more types of people will be an ongoing goal of mine, but at least I was given some practice these past two weeks:)

When I learned what advocacy was

I just completed my first week of Harvard Debate Camp.  I'm taking the public speaking and argumentation course and yesterday we presented our advocacy speeches.  I spoke about student loan debts in the US, their effect on the economy, and more importantly (the advocacy part) what we can do about the ever increasing amount of debt.

This past week, I was a part of one very important lecture where I learned what makes for an advocacy speech?  And to a greater extent, what is advocacy.  My instructor described it better than the dictionary, and her definition requires that all parts be met.  

Advocacy is any act of public risk-taking that demands a change to the status quo. 

 If there's no risk, it's not advocacy.  If it's not public, it's not advocacy.  If it doesn't demand change, it's not advocacy.  My instructor changed my views on advocacy.  I see it differently now, and what I once thought was me being an "advocate", I no longer think.  Posting messages of love on Facebook in support of a recent natural disaster is no longer what I consider advocacy because there's no risk.  Thinking about things I care about in my head but that never leave my brain no longer count as something I "advocate" for because it's not public.  

This week, I stood up in public, in Harvard Yard.  I was the first person in my group to present my speech on student loan debts, so there was no pre-established audience.  One of my jobs as the first speaker was to attract an audience from the general audience.  So  I stood in the shade, under one big oak tree, on top of a rickety green lawn chair.  And I began to speak…more like shout.  I caught the attention of people hundreds of feet away, some waiting in line to touch the left foot of the John Harvard statue, some walking on the paths around where I was standing.  And I recited an abridged version of my speech and demanded for action.  It was nerve wracking and by the end, my voice hurt.  No, it wasn’t just sore…it hurt from all the shouting I’d done to get attention and draw an audience.  Since I was the first person to present, there was no audience, but slowly after people began to see what my peers were doing, an audience gathered.  I went again for the second time at the end of all the speeches.  This time, I had a small audience of about 30 people.  I tried as clearly as I could to articulate my solutions…my “call to actions” as they call in public speaking.  I’ve misperceived advocacy up until now.  I simply said I was an advocate for something, not really knowing what advocacy should encompass.  Now I know that what my peers and I did in Harvard Yard, in public, on a hot summer day, this was advocacy.

How social media became an icebreaker

It’s been a little over a year now since I got social media.  First it was Facebook.  Then Instagram followed.  Now I have Pinterest…and a second Instagram account for my photography.  In middle school, when all of my friends had social media and I didn’t, it was because I was afraid I would become so distracted with the feeds that I wouldn’t spend time studying or using my time productively.  A year later, my feelings about social media and its power has changed and is continuing to evolve. 

When I first got media, it was more about keeping up with friends and where they were traveling and what they were doing over the summer.  Now that my accounts have grown, I see social media almost as a way to form conversations and gateways to friendships with people whom I always see in school but never talk to.  It’s that weird feeling I sometimes get.  Maybe it’s that person I see in the gym frequently.  Or the person who I always walk by in the library but never talk to.  The common thing is that these are people who I want to start a conversation with, but can’t find a way to.  I still prefer to talk to people in person, but sometimes it can be awkward or I may not come off correctly.  I don't want to come off as weird and I certainly would not want to take the person by surprise.  As an alternative, social media has become an exemplary icebreaker for these sorts of relationships…the kinds where you see people around enough so that you know them but can’t fixate upon the first words. It's a pretty relaxed environment, where people generally like each others posts regardless of whether they've talked to them. Whether someone uploads a post, or sends a story, I’ve found that commenting or replying to them is a wonderful way to extend a conversation.  

It starts off with a simple comment.  It’a a simple word, phrase, or sentence.  And that’s all one needs for that icebreaker, because before I know it, there’s a conversation going back and forth over the social media.  The comment on the post expands to different topics and before I’m aware, there’s already 10 messages sent back and forth.  And the beauty of it is that now, not only do I have someone who I can say hi to and perhaps approach in person, but that one post or story could be that icebreaker in real life.  

The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

A little over a year ago, I read Kristin Hannah’s, The Nightingale. It was an extremely quick read, and I genuinely couldn’t put down the book.  It remains one of my most favorite books of all time.  Recently, Kristin published another novel called The Great Alone.  I read this in Greece, finishing this 400 page book in about four days.  Clearly another quick read!

Leni, a third grader, has grown up for most of her life in the Northwest Pacific.  Her father, Ernt Allbright, a scarred veteran from the Vietnam War is abusive towards Leni’s mother, Cora, yet it is not who he was Before.  He has habitual drinking issues and cannot seem to find common ground with his wife and Leni. Leni tries to convince her mother to leave her husband, yet Cora’s love for her husband is fierce and she refuses to be without him.  Her thoughts and memories are grounded in the time before Ernt went to war and she fails to admit the person her husband has become upon return. 

One day, Ernt receives a letter from the family of a man whom he fought with in the War, which leaves him a house and acres of land in Alaska.  Cora and Leni hesitate about moving to Alaska, but Cora’s attachment and love for Ernt drives her to follow him.  

The Allbrights learn about what it truly means to survive in the wilderness as they prepare for their first winter in the harsh environment of Alaska.  They rebuild the house, tidy up the land, and prepare land for growing crops.  With the help and support from friendly neighbors, Leni and Cora find their ground in Alaska.  Specifically, they are helped by Tom Walker, whose grandfather founded the town, and Large-Marge, a former lawyer from the East Coast.  During the first few weeks in Alaska, Ernt’s temper has been quite placid and for the first time in a while, Cora believes he may be healing in the wilderness of Alaska. 

Meanwhile, Leni attends the local school, where she meets Matthew Walker. The two are inseparable.  Matthew shows Leni around town and some of his favorite places in nature.  There are fewer than ten students in the class so Matthew and Leni spend most of the time together.  Matthew and Leni spend elementary and middle school together, but Matthew leaves the area for high school and Leni is once again left alone with Cora and Ernt. 

When winter finally arrives, Ernt is hit the hardest by the bleak, short days.  His temper becomes capricious again and for the first time, Leni witnesses her father abuse her mother.  However, Cora’s bruises and scars are not invisible to the members of the small town.  Tom Walker and Large-Marge send Ernt off to a work camp and is banished from returning until Spring.  

Through the winters, this proves to be an effective method for avoiding Ernt’s worst mental stages of the year.  Cora and Leni live more freely and feel most at peace when Ernt isn’t home.  When Ernt comes home, it takes all his willpower to avoid abusing Cora and for a little while this works.  

However, peace is broken when Tom Walker proposes to build a hotel in the town for tourists.  Ernt disagrees with Walker and says he came to Alaska to get away from people.  Soon, the two become so argumentative that the town becomes divided between the two ideas.  Downing drinks and getting drunk every night, Cora has no choice but to side by her husband on the issue. 

One day, Matthew Walker returns home from high school in his senior year and implores Leni to go to college with him.  That spring, the two fall deeply in love again and Leni secretly, against her father’s knowledge, applies to the college.  But the young couple’s love cannot remain a secret forever, because Ernt spots Matthew with Leni.  How far will these two go for love with an abusive, overly-protective father on the tail of his political enemy’s son?

Hannah writes a riveting novel about love, connection, morality, and she challenges what it means to love someone.  The ending of this novel absolutely terrified me.  As a reader, it edged on the unrealistic side just a tad, yet Hannah writes so vividly that I found myself constantly telling myself, “no this isn’t real, this can’t be happening!”  Hannah writes with smooth, easy to follow language and never lets the flame of the plot die.  I wouldn’t say this book is an “action” book but it is written in the style of an action plot.  Through the summary, it’s pretty evident that this novel has a fresh take on literature yet it was a breathtaker and a page turner.  I would definitely recommend this book to anyone looking for something a little new to read. 

Greece 2018

A few days after I was released from school, I hopped on a plane to Greece with my family.  Earlier this year, I visited my first country in Europe, Portugal, and Greece I must say, was one very different country.  Its capital, Athens, went on strike against Uber the day we got to the city so there were no taxis to take us to our hotel.  Athens was the third part of Greece we visited, and it resembled the life in a typical city, with high traffic, rambunctious street nightlife, filled with both natives and tourists.  Overall, we went to three different islands in Greece: Santorini, Naxos, and Athens and our vacation lasted 13 days.  Each island was vastly different from the last, with different cultures. 

Santorini may as well be the epitome of a Greek island, most widely known for the three sky blue domes located on the cliffs in Oía.  Santorini has an interesting configuration, there are three major towns located along the main portion of the island and Oía is the last of the three.  Oía is so famous that my family actually visited twice in our four night stay on Santorini, and it is particularly renown for sunset viewage.  It was horrifying crowded on the night we watched the sunset, people we clambered on the castle, filling the restaurants, and crowding all along the sidewalks facing west.  When the sunset ended these massive crowds dispersed throughout the town and perhaps it was the busiest then for the shops as people squished through the narrow streets trying to get as quickly as possible to the bus stop.  In Santorini, the buildings are primarily white, because it becomes extremely hot in Greece throughout the summer (it was nearly 90 degrees in early June!) and the houses are built of a rock/clay material which kept the insides of the house cool.  People in Santorini, at a glance are the masters of building houses on cliffs.  Hotels were even built on cliffs and since cars cannot drive down on the cliffs (there are no roads), people had to drag their luggage to their hotels down the narrow and bumpy roads. 

Three domes

Naxos is presently a fishing town.  Dissimilar from Santorini, the houses are built as high on cliffs and the main part of town is ocean level.  This naturally allowed for a huge rowdy port, and every night seemed to be a festive one.  Restaurants were lined up all along the dock, most with a view of the sunset and the sailboats.  The most famous ruin in Naxos is the Arc of Apollo, and at sunset, the sun set at an angle that shown directly through the arc.  Naxos has an old market/town, located behind the restaurants bordering the docks.  The old town has windy and narrow streets, filled with clothing, jewelry, and souvenir shops.  Restaurants are located around central locations and mini squares in the old market.  The old market was built with white houses, and the frames of the house including the windows and doors were painted bright colors such as yellow, red, and blue.  During our five night stay in Naxos, we took evening walks along the port and amongst the rowdy and musical streets which were truly relaxing.  The sound of the waves was ceaseless.

Arc of Apollo

Our final destination in Greece was Athens.  Athens is known almost solely its ruins.  True to word, we visited Acropolis, which was ancient Athens.  Acropolis was located in an advantageous point on a mountain, so the ancient greeks constructed their city there.  In Athens, it was hot.  I mean, really hot.  The sun never failed to shine and it was over 90 degrees each day we were there.  The neat thing about Athens is that there is both a modern and ancient side to the city, both encompassing a little of the other.  In Acropolis, on the Parthenon (which was the temple for Athena), there was construction.  Modern technology rebuilding and strengthening old structures.  However, much of the modern parts of the city are influenced by the ancient, with sculptures, museums, and other remaining ruins which used to be the suburbs of Acropolis now located in the modern part of the city.  As I mentioned earlier, when we went to Athens, there was a taxi strike which minorly impaired our ability to get around the city; the tourist part of Athens is fairly walkable.  The taxi strike targeted Uber and for the first two days of my stay, there were no taxis.  As soon as the strike ended, it seemed that 40% of the cars on the roads were taxis, especially since June marks the beginning of the tourist season.  

I was very excited to visit Greece because it is quite different from what people typically associate with a European country.  I believe what comes to my mind are old churches, intricate opera houses, and luxury shopping, but Greece is quite different from that.  The architecture is one of a kind (especially the blue domes) and the history of the country is truly extensive and interesting to explore.   

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We also visited Mykonos during our stay in Naxos by ferry. Below are some photos from Mykonos and perhaps the most famous view here is the mills.

Little Venice

Lately, my grandfather, and Melbourne

Golly, it’s been a long time since I’ve written.  It’s also been a long time since I’ve used a computer, to the point where typing feels nouveau. These past three weeks I’ve been off my computer have been some of the most eventful days of my life.  A lot has happened and having not had access to my computer to write, I’m expecting for the next couple of weeks, I’ll be reflecting on everything that has happened in my first month of summer vacation. 

A few days after school ended, I hopped on a plane to Santorini, Greece. However, on our 12th night in Athens, at 4 AM, my dad received a call from my aunt in Melbourne.  

For around a year now, my grandfather has been sick with severe Parkinson’s disease.  That night my aunt called, the doctors had discovered he had an infection.  Overcoming this infection would be difficult, and in that time, the doctors estimated he would only be able to live for another 48-72 hours.  My family was left in a quagmire: it would be too late to wait to finish our vacation, go back home to Boston and then catch a 25+ hour flight to Melbourne.  It would also be too late to catch a flight directly to Melbourne after our vacation directly from Greece because of the time difference.  Our final decision was finalized in a matter of a few hours and by 5 AM, my dad found himself (probably alone) in the hotel lobby booking two tickets to Melbourne for that very night at 11:00. 

My dad and I ended up flying to Melbourne while my mom stayed in Athens for the remaining two days of vacation.  It was a terribly difficult time especially for my dad.  And that morning when we walked into the hospital, even I found myself crying at the sight of my now 80 pound grandfather.  Perhaps it was because I kept thinking back to this photo of him. 

He looked so different now.  His face was slim, and Parkinson’s had destroyed his ability to think clearly and function by himself.  He relied on others to feed him, bathe him, clothe him, every basic function… Going with my cousin, David, my aunt, grandmother, and my father to the hospital hit me with a lot of shock because I had never in my life seen a man so weak.  I’d only seen this stuff on TV, never in front of my face, giving my feeble grandfather a gentle hug. I had never seen a man on the verge of death, potentially sitting in his deathbed, in a hospital, surrounded by other men also on the verge of death.  We were blessed, because that very morning, the nurses informed us that grandfather had responded well to the shot they had given him in hopes of fighting the infection.  My aunt explained this medicine they had given him: it was so strong it could only be taken once, and chances of fighting the infection vitally depended on how well my grandfather responded to it.  

My dad and I stayed in Melbourne for a total of four days and left early in the morning on our fifth day.  It was a constant balance for my dad and I, having to remember to be strong and sensitive around my grandmother, who is bipolar and further struggling to contain her emotions because of the medical state of grandfather.  This trip to Melbourne was supposed to happen in July, well after our trip to Greece.  I remember my aunt telling my dad that while grandfather was delusional and confused (he thought he was still living in China), he wasn’t going to die anytime soon in early June.  I’d believed her until the phone call at 4 AM.  When we left Melbourne, my grandfather still had a little bit of infection, and now, I’m not so sure.  I’m extremely fortunate that I was able to see my grandfather.  Leaving Melbourne and shaking hands with my grandfather on our final day was difficult and the night before our early plane flight, I felt this odd feeling in my stomach.  It was a ball of confusion: I felt joy in spending time with my cousins, uncle, aunt, and grandmother, I felt sentimental about leaving Melbourne, I felt distress having to leave my grandfather, and the thought of home felt odd after spending weeks outside of the US.  

Here was a man who’d given life to my aunt and dad, dedicated his entire life, well beyond retirement to research for the technology and engineering field, come to the US to spend the summer with me about eight years ago, and who I’d inherited my eyebrows from.  Leaving Melbourne, knowing I may never see grandfather, who was still breathing today, ever again was difficult as hell.  

Freshman year reflection

Freshman year is officially over.  It was my first year at Phillips Academy, and time flew by quicker than I thought.  I’ve established aspects of my life on campus that hopefully won’t change next year, such as my friendships.  However, there are parts that I know are going to change as well.  I’m a little bit wary as to how not being the youngest on campus will feel, and what campus will be like without the class of 2018. My dorm gathered for a dorm meeting during our last two weeks and we did a reflection on the year.  I’m going to replicate that exercise.  So here we go…

Favorite memories: WQN Field Night

   Tent Dance

   Tennis match against Exeter

   First hockey game I’ve ever watched 

Appreciation: Thank you to my parents, who drove up every weekend to talk with me.  We always had good conversations, and even though I was always really busy, they were consistently flexible and came when I was free.  Thank you also for making my education a reality.

Thank you to my advisor, for endless nights of discussions about random topics like my friendships, my relationships with different people, and how to talk to people, for giving me motivation, and for embodying morals that I inspire me to be a better person every day. 

Thank you to my friends, for being my go-to people for support, and for helping me relax.  For giving me feedback, and for being honest with me.  

Thank you to my teachers. From each teacher, I’ve learned a lot about the subject they teach but also how to adapt to different teaching styles and how to study differently and more effectively. 

Thank you to my dorm mates for their patience.  This one’s a special one, because I’ve began to learn how to live with other people.  At home, being an only child, I’ve never had to consider the volume I play my music at, when I shower, or how loud I stomp my feet.  

Firsts from freshman year:

• Face mask
  
• Poptart
  
• Living with other people my age
  
• Doing my own laundry
  
• First time watching a hockey game
  
• Sleeping at midnight because of homework
  
• …Plus all the academics…
  

Outlook for lower year:

• Don’t wear a blazer to class every day…:)
  
• I’ll become better gradually at managing my time, so making sure I stick to my schedules and mental checklists
  
• Make time to relax on the weekends (so that it’s not procrastinating)
  
• When I’m trying to study, be in a quiet place where there are no distractions.  This year I’ve learned my studying has been a lot more efficient and effective when I studied in my dorm rather than in the library, which I adopted Spring Term.  I spent less time working and achieved the same results.
  

I think I’ve grown as a person this year.  My study habits are different, my priorities are different, and my friend groups change frequently.  I view challenges a little bit differently thanks to various teachers I’ve been around.  And I’ve become more aware of social issues in our society through attending various club meetings and discussion groups.  It’s been a great year, and as they say, that’s a wrap!