VOL. III, NO. 1
MAY 2012
O
n February 10, 2012, over 500 guests attended Chesterton Academy’s Third Annual Benefit Gala at the International Market Square in Minneapolis, Minnesota. We were honored to have as our special guest speaker Father Francis “Fr. Rocky” Hoffman, executive director of Relevant Radio. Another memorable highlight of the evening was our annual student speech, delivered by McKaela Laxen, current Chesterton Academy senior and the first student to enroll at the school when it opened in 2008. Miss Laxen’s humorous, heartfelt speech so touched our audience that we have decided to share it with you in this issue of Common Sense.
The Worst Day Ever
A
— BY MCKAELA LAXEN — Class of 2012
s I recall, it was a cold, rainy day in the beginning of September 2008. I got up early for Mass and was headed for school. And I was not happy, at all. By 8:30 in the morning, already everything had gone wrong and nothing could go right. That only continued once we pulled up to Chesterton Academy. In the one room we found one table at which all the students sat. In fact, this one room had, as near as I can figure, about thirtyseven times as many books as the school had students. Mr. Dale Ahlquist was one of the first people we met. All that I knew about him was that he founded a school, had a TV show, and was a little intimidating. +
www.chestertonacademy.org
2
Common Sense
As we sat down at the table, I strategically placed myself so I could sit and stare out the windows all day long without having to turn around at all. When lunchtime finally showed up, I could not wait to get out of that room. All ten of us piled out on to the front steps where we ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in complete and utter silence, broken only by the occasional snide comment or complaint, often from me. One of the girls on the steps was Hannah Korman, who would McKaela Laxen ’12, first student to eventually become my dear enroll at Chesterton Academy friend. But not that day. Poor Hannah had just opened her lunch box and was ready to enjoy her lunch on her first day of high school, when I proclaimed, “I hate school.” She was scared of me for weeks. The day was miserable. None of us wanted to be at that place. The teachers seemed . . . interesting. And by that, I mean nearly insane. Almost all of them said at one point or another how they wish they could attend Chesterton Academy as students, which seemed stupid seeing how miserable the real students were. Why would they want to inflict such pain upon themselves? And the amount of homework assigned that first day was completely wrong and inhumane. When I finally got home that first day, my parents’ worst fear was realized. The complaining was nonstop for the next several days, maybe even weeks. One could even argue months. I slammed my backpack on the ground and announced practically to the entire neighborhood, “I’m never going back to that stupid place AGAINNN!” “There are only ten kids. They call me Miss Laxen! We study Latin! Why are we studying Latin?! It’s a dead language. It’s obviously
The sweet part is what I am able to take from this school and bring to the world.
Vol. III •
no
. I-
3
dead for a reason. And what’s up with this Chesterton guy? He’s just some dead fat guy that wrote millions upon millions of books. I mean, honestly, who cares? There’s only one room. We have to pack a lunch every day . . . ” There were ten kids and one room. This wasn’t high school! This was . . . the worst day of my life. You may be curious why I was unaware there would be only ten students in this school. Well, I was told that it would be a “smaller” school. I thought that smaller would be nice considering Burnsville High School (my alternative to Chesterton) has about 2,000 students. Lo and behold, after applying to this smaller school, I was told by my father that the school was, and I quote, “shootin’ for a dozen.” The weeks went by: I went to school, came home from school, and complained about school. At first, my parents, Timothy and Ruthanne Laxen—being the kind and loving people they are—showed some sympathy and told me things would get better. Finally, enough was enough. They laid down the law. They made it known to me that I was going to this school whether I liked it or not. They both knew Chesterton Academy was where I was supposed to be. One Wednesday morning on the drive to school, I finally made a remark that pushed my mother over the edge. She replied in these exact words: “You have a choice. You can either spend the next four years in misery, or you can suck it up and deal with it.” As my mom recalls, the next few days were the worst by far. That Friday after, we had a test on The Screwtape Letters, which I had neglected to read over the summer.The grade I received was one that was both well expected and deserved. But an odd thing happened . . . even with this terrible grade, things didn’t seem as bad. I came home with a hint of a smile on my face that Friday. For one thing, I had started to make friends. The class as a whole became very close; we shared an experience that will never be forgotten. It was tough; it took a toll on all of us. But through
There are still times when those of us from the first class long for the “good ol’ days,” when there were just ten students, one table, and one room.
4
Common Sense
this, we became a close-knit group of friends—friends I hope to have throughout the rest of my life. With friends, everything seemed to turn around. Having one room now meant that we only had one room to clean and keep tidy. Packing a lunch every day? Yeah, but we got cheese pizza every Friday. Sure the teachers were still crazy, but they kept you entertained and engaged in what they were teaching. Even the classical curriculum didn’t seem as bad. I even impressed my parents when I could answer a question about Euclid in Trivial Pursuit. More important I began to see that what we were learning was anything but trivial. The classes started to connect. Theology could be seen in history and vice versa. Not only were they seen in one another, but also each made the other come alive. Today, having the school seven times larger than it was that first day is a great thing. It gives us hope for the future. But there are still times when those of us from the first class long for the “good ol’ days,” when there were just ten students, one table, and one room. Which brings me back to my parents. Mom and Dad, I want you to know what you’ve done for me. Because of your decision to send me to Chesterton Academy, my understanding has grown and my faith has deepened in ways I never imagined possible. If it weren’t for you putting up with me and my bad moods, and not giving in to me, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I wouldn’t be here tonight giving this speech and I wouldn’t be the person that I am. Thank you, Mom and Dad. I love you. As I walk through the doors of Chesterton Academy now, I cannot see myself anywhere else. My parents were right: this is where I am supposed to be. As my senior year comes to a close, there is a bittersweet feeling that comes with it. The bitter part is who and what I have to leave behind: my friends and what has become almost my “second home.” The sweet part is what I am able to take from this school and bring to the world, and also for what is to come. I have learned so much about my faith and also about who I am and who I am supposed to be. That first day of school had seemed like the worst day of my life. But sometimes the worst experiences in life take you exactly where God wants you to be. I am forever grateful that place was Chesterton Academy.
My parents were right: this is where I am supposed to be.