Jason Hausenloy, Grade 8
UWCSEA (East)
I have always had an utterly unoriginal obsession with exploring the “big questions,” so common amongst teenagers my age many adults I talk to proclaim this pseudo-philosophy and soul-searching is a defining characteristic of adolescence. I like to draw the particular analogy that this is akin to, while on the long crawl through the barren desert, that is life, spotting an oasis in the distance to quench a thirst for meaning and identity. But, when examined closer, this oasis is simply but a mirage, seemingly deep but only shallow. However, I propose (to continue an analogy that has completely bled dry) swimming in this mirage, making tangible these abstract thoughts can best be done by tying those thoughts, beliefs, and experiences to tangible physical places. I will detail the spaces that have helped me along this development process, in the hopes of convincing you.
Firstly, one of these spaces, for me, is a seemingly mundane rounded-off bench situated outside A-block on the campus of my school. A brief sidetrack, I am incredibly fortunate to attend a beautiful campus (UWCSEA East) where the most trivial details such as benches or gardens are well-thought-out, constantly cared for, and elevated by the people and atmosphere around them.
Anyway, riding back from that tangent, this bench. It was there, during a particularly memorable conversation I had with a friend, that I discovered a now integral part of my shifting identity, a resolute optimism for the future, and the collective ability of humanity. It was a particularly overcast Monday lunchtime, a friend and I were debating the likelihood of humanity’s future survival, which probably says more about the type of student I was (and still am) than anything. We’d placed this wager that humanity would not live to see the year 2050, and I guess I have immortalised it by putting it here in writing. After proper consideration, a large part being the narrow but fine specimen of Homo Sapiens surrounding me at UWC, I bid that we would survive. My argument, at the time, was that if I lost, I wouldn’t be alive to face the repercussions. My friend was significantly more pessimistic. Now, in hindsight, I suspect that was a hint at my deeply held optimism of the future that I hadn’t realised until expressing those thoughts out loud. I really must write a homage, or perhaps even a love letter, to genuinely thought-provoking and meaningful conversation.
A second place, perhaps more concretely describable. Down the stairs near that same A-block are the herb gardens and composting center, a place where I’ve spent a not-insignificant amount of time. I was most often hauling and clearing out compost bins, amidst the smell of rotting fruit skins and ground coffee (a moderately successful attempt in disguising the stench of the former). Initially, I found this experience reprehensible, as did many of my classmates, and would quietly complain and skulk away near the back (which is more, now, of behaviour and attitude frequented by students wishing to conceal themselves rather than an actual physical place). But gradually, I learned to embrace it, because it really was the manifestation of “practicing what you preach.”
In SEED classrooms, I thought, it is all well and good to chant, with a cult-like fanaticism, the UN Sustainable Develop Goals and chastises industrial polluters from the confines of an air-conditioned classroom, but I have felt a much deeper connection to those values of sustainability dragging compost-bins to the through bemused looks of passers-by or hosing out the gooey muck of past-life banana peels. I eventually joined the group that helped establish the new system of home-composting, and have probably received the utter loathing of many of the current Grade Sevens and Eights who must start dragging bins along every Friday morning. Perhaps they’ll gain something meaningful from it too.
I spoke, at the start, about comparing mirages and adolescent philosophy and self-discovery, about their deception and perceived depth but actual shallowness. I hope, however, that when you ask your own big questions, attempt to see if you can tie those abstract thoughts and parts of your personality to physical places, as I have attempted to do. I’ve previously heard that everyone’s memory of physical places is undeniably tainted by the experiences and thoughts you have had there. But if you can attribute thoughts or specific important areas of your personality, experience, or belief to those places, that may not be such a bad thing.
Firstly, one of these spaces, for me, is a seemingly mundane rounded-off bench situated outside A-block on the campus of my school. A brief sidetrack, I am incredibly fortunate to attend a beautiful campus (UWCSEA East) where the most trivial details such as benches or gardens are well-thought-out, constantly cared for, and elevated by the people and atmosphere around them.
Anyway, riding back from that tangent, this bench. It was there, during a particularly memorable conversation I had with a friend, that I discovered a now integral part of my shifting identity, a resolute optimism for the future, and the collective ability of humanity. It was a particularly overcast Monday lunchtime, a friend and I were debating the likelihood of humanity’s future survival, which probably says more about the type of student I was (and still am) than anything. We’d placed this wager that humanity would not live to see the year 2050, and I guess I have immortalised it by putting it here in writing. After proper consideration, a large part being the narrow but fine specimen of Homo Sapiens surrounding me at UWC, I bid that we would survive. My argument, at the time, was that if I lost, I wouldn’t be alive to face the repercussions. My friend was significantly more pessimistic. Now, in hindsight, I suspect that was a hint at my deeply held optimism of the future that I hadn’t realised until expressing those thoughts out loud. I really must write a homage, or perhaps even a love letter, to genuinely thought-provoking and meaningful conversation.
A second place, perhaps more concretely describable. Down the stairs near that same A-block are the herb gardens and composting center, a place where I’ve spent a not-insignificant amount of time. I was most often hauling and clearing out compost bins, amidst the smell of rotting fruit skins and ground coffee (a moderately successful attempt in disguising the stench of the former). Initially, I found this experience reprehensible, as did many of my classmates, and would quietly complain and skulk away near the back (which is more, now, of behaviour and attitude frequented by students wishing to conceal themselves rather than an actual physical place). But gradually, I learned to embrace it, because it really was the manifestation of “practicing what you preach.”
In SEED classrooms, I thought, it is all well and good to chant, with a cult-like fanaticism, the UN Sustainable Develop Goals and chastises industrial polluters from the confines of an air-conditioned classroom, but I have felt a much deeper connection to those values of sustainability dragging compost-bins to the through bemused looks of passers-by or hosing out the gooey muck of past-life banana peels. I eventually joined the group that helped establish the new system of home-composting, and have probably received the utter loathing of many of the current Grade Sevens and Eights who must start dragging bins along every Friday morning. Perhaps they’ll gain something meaningful from it too.
I spoke, at the start, about comparing mirages and adolescent philosophy and self-discovery, about their deception and perceived depth but actual shallowness. I hope, however, that when you ask your own big questions, attempt to see if you can tie those abstract thoughts and parts of your personality to physical places, as I have attempted to do. I’ve previously heard that everyone’s memory of physical places is undeniably tainted by the experiences and thoughts you have had there. But if you can attribute thoughts or specific important areas of your personality, experience, or belief to those places, that may not be such a bad thing.
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