Six weeks. The equivalent of one and a half months, an eighth of a year. If my life was an hour, CTY would have lasted for less than a minute. And yet, what a minute.
I was unsure what Johns Hopkins' Center for Talented Youth (CTY) summer program would be like. It was a three week program where qualified kids came together to study a subject of their choice. I first heard about the camp through a letter by CTY's Talent Search in eighth grade, and then from a family friend. My parents encouraged me to take the SAT, which was required to enter the program. I met the requirements, and off I went to Loyola Marymount University. Then, time flew.
Two sessions, only two years, the same exact site. I lived life. Two lives in fact. I tasted the sweetness of life's most magnificent experiences ï freedom, but I also tasted the bitter consequences that life guarantees ï an end. I remember Loyola Marymount as one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. There, I learned how to make friendship bracelets; there I learned how to cloud watch; there I watched the sunrise with my best friends. I met a new second family there, consisting of individuals from both years. It seemed like a fantasy, but I assured myself that this was real, all too real. Before I knew it, my time at CTY ran out. After my last three weeks, I said goodbye with tears and promises.
Someone once told me that CTY was a world without problems. That just is not true. CTY certainly has its problems ï after all, we are all humans and we make mistakes. CTY was not a paradise; rather, it was a world where all the problems have solutions. It was a world where individuals bonded together to tackle what seemed the impossible. Whether it be a pointless task of drawing faces on Styrofoam cups or an intellectual debate on the accuracy of a premise in the string theory, my fellow peers and I gave it our all, and was respected for it. Looking back, CTY was not unique because of where I was or what snacks I ate at midnight, but because of the intellectuals who surrounded me, the experiences with them, and pursuing knowledge with them. I was not alone.
The most important lesson that I realized at CTY was to never be alone, to seek others, and, most importantly, appreciate life. And so, through my high school years, I did just that. I committed myself to a demanding curriculum so that I could be surrounded by intellectuals like those that I laughed with, those that I cried with, and those that I loved at CTY. I may not know what my profession will be or if I will ever understand string theory, but one thing I know for sure is true: surround yourself with the right people and there will be no bounds to what we can achieve.
I was unsure what Johns Hopkins' Center for Talented Youth (CTY) summer program would be like. It was a three week program where qualified kids came together to study a subject of their choice. I first heard about the camp through a letter by CTY's Talent Search in eighth grade, and then from a family friend. My parents encouraged me to take the SAT, which was required to enter the program. I met the requirements, and off I went to Loyola Marymount University. Then, time flew.
Two sessions, only two years, the same exact site. I lived life. Two lives in fact. I tasted the sweetness of life's most magnificent experiences ï freedom, but I also tasted the bitter consequences that life guarantees ï an end. I remember Loyola Marymount as one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. There, I learned how to make friendship bracelets; there I learned how to cloud watch; there I watched the sunrise with my best friends. I met a new second family there, consisting of individuals from both years. It seemed like a fantasy, but I assured myself that this was real, all too real. Before I knew it, my time at CTY ran out. After my last three weeks, I said goodbye with tears and promises.
Someone once told me that CTY was a world without problems. That just is not true. CTY certainly has its problems ï after all, we are all humans and we make mistakes. CTY was not a paradise; rather, it was a world where all the problems have solutions. It was a world where individuals bonded together to tackle what seemed the impossible. Whether it be a pointless task of drawing faces on Styrofoam cups or an intellectual debate on the accuracy of a premise in the string theory, my fellow peers and I gave it our all, and was respected for it. Looking back, CTY was not unique because of where I was or what snacks I ate at midnight, but because of the intellectuals who surrounded me, the experiences with them, and pursuing knowledge with them. I was not alone.
The most important lesson that I realized at CTY was to never be alone, to seek others, and, most importantly, appreciate life. And so, through my high school years, I did just that. I committed myself to a demanding curriculum so that I could be surrounded by intellectuals like those that I laughed with, those that I cried with, and those that I loved at CTY. I may not know what my profession will be or if I will ever understand string theory, but one thing I know for sure is true: surround yourself with the right people and there will be no bounds to what we can achieve.
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