Phillips Exeter Academy

As I write this, I remain just days away from graduating college, a word—a concept— used to embody the span of time considered by many to encompass the most fruitful, fulfilling, and transformational years, days, and moments of one’s life. Yet, I am constantly finding myself reflecting back on what shaped me into becoming the person I am today, knowing that my journey of growth began long before my journey through college, eight years ago when I first left my hometown of Lutcher, Louisiana to attend the prestigious institution known as Phillips Exeter Academy, my first home away from home. And while living there introduced me to so much more of the “real” world, urging me to develop, change, and mature, it also trapped me in a bubble of high-pressure, high-intensity institutional eliteness, which arguably hindered my growth in undeniable ways. 

 

But that was years ago. And those who know me might even argue that while the unique environment and culture of Exeter forced me to mature at a much faster rate than I would have anticipated had I remained in Louisiana for my high-school years, the University of Michigan, my home for the past four years, was the institution that fostered a space where I could truly thrive. Some might even go as far as to say that my time in college prompted a transformation that personally exceeded previous standards of change and essentially overrode past hindrances of development and progression. Because, it was in college that I finally found a way to step out of the shell of shadows I was so used to enclosing myself in, and become determined, ambitious and confident. It was at UofM where I became not only a large-scaled goal-setter but a follow-througher, despite any obstacle that crippled my way. And so, my memories of Exeter, filled with nostalgia and gratitude while coupled with certain contempt, should fade into the simple remnants of an adolescent’s past. 

 

And yet, I am constantly finding my mind fleeting back to these moments of my high-school life and my thoughts consumed by the feelings and memories of my former self, the self that learned to remain complacent with ignorance and compliant with failure, the self that found comfort in the shadows and solace in mediocrity, the self that learned to complain when things got difficult and chose to give up when it became too taxing to see past my own shortcomings. But the self that also learned to at the very least stick it out and at the very most recognize the power of resilience. Perhaps it’s because I’m about to transition into an entirely new phase of life, where I’ll have to reorient myself once again to a new reality filled with different challenges yet the same battles with my former insecurities of incompetence and inadequacy (as I assume they’ll come to haunt me again). 

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But as my time in college comes to an end and with the journey of whatever’s next looming ahead, I feel armed with more determination than ever to never let my confidence suffer more than a scratch during this next phase. I only wish that P and Sakki and the many others whose minds consumed them before the sun in their souls could pierce through, whose shards of confidence were shattered past the point of reconstruction, I only wish that those who lost themselves too young could have had the same chances as me to grow beyond the age of adolescence, the time where everything felt much more personal, much more permanent. I only wish that they too, that everyone, could experience growth for what it really is, a privilege. As much as our experiences were shaped by our individual determination and efforts, without the support of our family and friends, my siblings and I would have never found the motivation to continue pushing through the challenges of Exeter or the pains of grief, and without my sister to look to as the epitome of a fighter, I would have never found my own resilience.