After hardly writing anything for The Merionite this year, I must admit I am slightly rusty. However, the ten variations of 500 word supplemental essays have made me all too practiced with writing reflective pieces. In fact, I am reminded of the piece I wrote for the Common Application six months ago, typing on my notes app in a parked car. I wrote my essay about independence, the importance of standing on one’s two feet, and having the self-confidence to be comfortable as an individual. As I wrote the essay that I felt would define my future, I emphasized individuality as a way to develop skills, to achieve, and to climb my way towards what I wanted. But as senior year has come to a close, I’m reminded of a quote that John Green wrote in his novel Looking for Alaska. He writes that, “imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.” 

I spent about half of my high school experience loving and enjoying it. But a large portion of my time here was seeped in difficulty—heavy course loads, falling out with friends, and huge expectations I placed upon myself. I was ready to leave LM, to go to college, and  never look back. But right now, after commits day, prom photos, and senior projects, we have the opportunity to look back. And I, for one, don’t want to escape the present. Because, while having the self-reliance to build your future is important, connection is far more meaningful. 

I ask you to think about the people closest to you, the friends you ate lunch with every day, the classmates you shared quiet, tired looks with, the people you have sat next to in advisory since freshman orientation. Whether or not your advisory ever did the activities, whether or not you had Mr. Samulewicz yelling at you to “get off your phones,” and, “stay school appropriate,” you share something. When you think about the members of your clubs, your teams, your casts, you share something. Most importantly, you share something with people you may never have talked to. Someone you simply saw in the bathroom. Someone who saw you trip over your Uggs in the hallway—it’s happened to me more than a few times. Someone who cut you in line at lunch. Because, like it or hate it, you also share something. 

We share those long lunch lines, the morning annoucements—on the days I got here on time—Dr. Johnson declaring “love ya” on the loudspeakers at 3:13 and, most importantly, the achievements of each other. Through our school’s spirit of lifting one another up, of wishing luck, of congratulating, of supporting, of fundraising, of watching games, our achievements are not only our own. And, at first, that may be a tough pill to swallow. We all want to be able to take pride in what we have achieved. I know as the co-president of LM’s mock trial team, I would love to give myself credit for the mock trial wins this year. But I know, and am forever grateful for, the hard work of my teammates, our dedicated sponsor Señora Pellegrino, and our former club leaders that laid a foundation. After all, success is impossible without the work of a community, because collaboration is of the utmost importance. Collaboration is important , for creating the foundations of state-topping track times and winning trophies that line the first floor of LM. But more, collaboration is important for  creating the fundamentals of character. As French writer Stendhal notes, “One can acquire everything in solitude except character” and as the wonderful morning announcement team states in honor of principal Sean Hughes every morning, “character counts.” And it’s not just a mantra, or  a stickered affirmation that LM spends hundreds of dollars on to shellac to the stairwells and school bathrooms. “Character” is the mental and moral qualities in each individual, and I am confident in saying that LM has taught all of us these mental and moral qualities. 

Because when I was struggling most, I found myself gradually surrounded by some of the most kindhearted and loyal people. People who studied with me until 11 at night at our favorite cafe. People who confided in me as we sat on the bathroom floor. People I drove around with blasting music for hours. 

So, yes, I am confident that LM has built these strong moral qualities. And I am equally certain that whatever our paths are after walking across the Finneran Pavilion stage, we will all bring these qualities on our journey. And most importantly, none of us will be going forth to serve by ourselves.