LM is a horrible, gut- wrenching, and pathetic school. It reeks of elitism and ignorance. It runs afoul of toxicity and cancel culture. It’s dominated by despicable grade inflation and cheating pandemics.
Yet at the same time, LM is also a beautiful, soul-stirring, unique, one-of-a-kind school. It embodies a school spirit like no other, one that oozes with confidence, embracement, and love. It seamlessly breeds unparalleled levels of
collaboration, innovation, and nuanced creativity. And it’s here that I’ve met the most fantastic people and made friends that I know I’ll keep for the rest of my life.
Sure, I may have slightly exaggerated, but the lesson that LM has taught me is simple: nothing in life is clear-cut or black and white.
Unlike many of my
other graduating classmates, I didn’t spend all four years at LM. In fact, I only spent my latter two years of high school here, having moved back to the US
after a 10-year hiatus studying abroad in China. As I straddled the two worlds, I saw the epitome of
ignorance in people I never would’ve expected it from. I have friends at LM who happen to be some of the smartest people I’ve ever met, but when it came to China, they asked some of the most naive and oblivious questions possible.
It wasn’t their fault—instead, their massively skewed perception of China was a multifaceted result of societal and online echo chambers, media bias, and even governmental propaganda. So I took it upon myself to open their eyes to a different side of China, to offer a neutral and blatantly-raw perspective in hopes of capturing not just the flaws they’d been told of, but also the beauty too often hidden away. And in doing so, I concurrently realized the larger issue at hand: at the root of the problem was perspective, and more importantly, that it was left unchallenged.
We live in a day and age defined by polarization like never before, where we are constantly being challenged by new political, economic, and societal issues that continue to proliferate a splintering of our society. Along with these novel dilemmas has come increased sensitivity, and as a result, too often and too easily do we simply shut the door on those who disagree with us. This is a phenomenon that LM is no stranger to, whether it be the topic of LGBTQ+ rights or the recent 2024 election. And yet, it is exactly in times like these that it is paramount we do the exact opposite: that we embrace the gray and acknowledge both sides of the coin, for society and discourse are inseparable; they die and thrive together.
But this stark duality of perspective isn’t just
political—it’s profoundly personal, too. Every friendship quarrel unresolved as a result of miscommunication, every geometry question left blank because of a stubborn line of thought, and every startup idea forgone because of a refusal to dig beyond the surface are all a result of not being able to shift perspectives.
Maybe that’s what perspective is about—not just seeing more clearly, but learning to respond more wisely.
I still remember a specific excerpt from The Phantom Tollbooth, a
novel that I read in fifth grade, and a passage that gave me the perfect definition of perspective:
“‘For instance, from here that looks like a bucket of water,’ he [Alec] said, pointing to a bucket of
water; ‘but from an ant’s point of view it’s a vast ocean, from an elephant’s just a cool drink, and to a fish, of course, it’s home. So, you see, the way you see things depends a great deal on where you look at them from.’”
In a world full of hate and spite, try to counteract that and approach life and its disagreements with compassion instead. As we continue to grow,
whether it be in high school or college, don’t be mad at someone for their ignorance—rather, feel sorry for them. Learn to put yourself into their shoes and see why they’ve come to the conclusion they hold today. Then engage with them. Teach them. Change them. Mold them, for the true value of knowledge is not its acquisition, but rather in spreading it as far and wide and to as many people as possible.
LM taught me one thing that I’ll never forget: that regardless if it’s people, relationships, or places, nothing in life is a singular “it.” Rather, they’re contradictions. They’re “ands” and “ors.” And in embracing those not-so-clear-cut black and whites, we grow.
