Game Seven

Well, I guess this is it. Thankfully, three years of threats to kick me out of EMC never came to fruition... 

All humor aside, I had a really rough time last week. The reality of the symposium crystallized in a very real, almost crushing way and that was difficult. While the no note cards rule made me nervous and public speaking is not easy, my fears and anxieties were more concerned with the aftermath.  What was I to do when the symposium ended? How was I expected to simply "move on" from something that shaped, molded, and taught me for three whole years? A lot of the panic that Silma talked about in her speech came over me rather quickly and all at once. 

I can tell you that much of the learner I am today is attributed to EMC. So when time began to slowly take it away, from my last final paper to my last SDA and to my last symposium, I was scared that time would take away myself also. In my mind, 9:00 pm on June 7th marked the end of EMC... and the beginning of Feb's disappearance. I know this sounds incredibly irrational and dumb but believe me when I say that this class truly did give me a cause worth fighting for - an undying strife towards self improvement that I couldn't quite find anywhere else. 

But it is that very sentiment, with it's myopic nature that EMC seeks to defy. We are supposed to learn from everything around us. We grow to recognize and appreciate value from all experiences and all encounters. We apply lessons learned to the world we live in... no matter how much that world changes. 

So while I could spend my time in tears over what was (kind of like right now), I can, and should, do something better. I ought to revive what was, and continually make it what is. On the morning of the symposium, Mr. Bott said to me "EMC is forever." And even though I'm still having trouble truly believing that, I know he's right. 

In the future, I won't be at GHS and I won't be an EMC student - time is, albeit forcibly, moving me forward. But time cannot take away the ideas, the lessons, and the growth that this experience has given me. Those are wholly mine and I guess it's up to me to use them as much as I possibly can - the ball's in my court as the jocks might say. 

I already exceeded my 250-word limit several paragraphs ago so I will end with the following. EMC has given me more than I can express. Noah called me a "giver" but little does he know that my sophomore, feet-studying self became my senior, worm-studying self by one action alone - taking. I have taken lessons of kindness, endurance, forgiveness and perseverance from the coordinators of this class and the students who have accompanied me each and every year.

I can promise I'll fight with all of my mental might to remember it all. But even more than that, I promise to apply the passion I first learned in the GHS library to everything I do in the uncharted waters that are to come.

It's been real, EMC. With eyes full of tears, and the most thankful heart, this is me, Febronia Mansour, signing off on my final journal. To anyone reading this, allow hope to make you courageous, curiosity to make you passionate, and understanding to make you kind. This is game seven and it lasts forever.