As I hugged my friends goodbye, tears streaming down my face, we promised to reunite. I was loath to leave them and a summer full of new experiences behind. The summer of 2006, I attended the Governor’s School of North Carolina in social science. When I first arrived, biting my lip, my stomach in knots, I did not know what to expect. I had never been away from home for two weeks, much less six. I was going to be surrounded by almost 400 people whom I had never met. As much as I tried to be brave, I cried when my parents left. But the few tears that escaped my eyes then were nothing compared to the bawling I would do when I had to leave Governor’s School six weeks later with many new friends and a few new ideas about life.
Within a few days, my class compiled a list of over two hundred topics to discuss, including censorship, genocide, and the War in Iraq. I was amazed at the insight of my classmates. At my high school, most of the students do not care about current issues. But here, everyone was aware of current events, and everyone had opinions on them, usually strong ones. I was excited to be intellectually challenged, to be able to participate in discussions where everyone’s point had logic behind it, where students took the debate seriously.
While I had high hopes for the summer, I also felt in over my head. In school I tended to be on the quiet side, usually preferring to quietly absorb the material instead of speaking out in class. At Governor’s School however, I was encouraged to speak up. One of my instructors commented on a journal entry I wrote for class in which I confessed my tendency to be less vocal. She urged me to contribute even if my opinion was not fully formed or if the explanation behind my words was not complete. I began to feel more comfortable sharing my ideas. We discussed controversial topics and were forced to question our beliefs. While my beliefs did not change as a result of these discussions, I became more comfortable with them as a part of who I am. I also became less shy outside of class, introducing myself to someone new each day or saying hello to someone I met the previous day. By the end, I had fallen in love with Governor’s School.
After our final assembly, “I’ll miss you!” and “You better keep in touch!” were common exchanges heard through the mass of tearful hugging students. Looking around, I thought about my days there. I had grown from someone who sometimes preferred sitting on the sidelines in class and out, watching others act before her, to someone wanting a more active role. After six weeks, the program ended, but I what I gained from the experience, my new ideas and my new comfort with the person I am, will stay with me forever.
- Mollie Mayfield
GSE Social Science ‘06
January 9, 2009 at 10:40 pm |
What a powerful essay! Thank you, Mollie. You eloquently took me back to an almost identical experience exactly 30 years earlier. It is amazing to me that most of us who were given this incredible opportunity come away more mature, much better prepared for our future, and committed to keep in touch with these new friends who have become friends for life in six short weeks!