Personal Stories

Border Crossing Fail

By Kaan Uslular ’23

Everyone has a tough and unforgettable memory in their life, undoubtedly. However, after some time when we dream about those challenging days, we realize they were one of the best times of our lives. I want to tell you about a memory that is difficult, but later I realized that it is a memory that I will never forget in my life. I’ve learned that true friendships are made in tough times.

The winter break plan was shaped for me and Ms. Nadeau’s biology class. My lovely classmate Pierre invited me to his house for Christmas. It was definitely an intense feeling of happiness. He is one of my best friends, and he is just an absolute soft-hearted friend. After a while, everything was all set for us. We made all our plans to go with him to Quebec, Canada. At the beginning there were no problems about this amazing Christmas break but for me there were little bumps in the road. I’m from Turkey, and I needed a visa to get into Canada. I trust my international visa because I’m a student in the US, and my passport is going to solve any problem at the border.

I had Plan A, which is to not find any inaccurate situations and I’ll just go to Pierre’s house smoothly. Plan B is a little bit problematic one. It is possible that I’ll not be able to cross the border. To summarize the situation, I am a redundant positive person and that's not always a good thing. Greta, Pierre and I hopped into a little car on a sunny Sunday. After a very sweet journey, I realized that the best conversations occur on long journeys. We passed through very dark and snowy roads, and we arrived at the Canadian border. I had little goosebumps when the officer was checking my passport because mine was the only one he gazed at for a long time. I was a little scared and the man said pull forward and wait. This was the time I realized I needed to get ready for Plan B.

That scary and unwanted scenario happened. I didn’t know what to do, who to call or what to say. Thank God, I had my best friends in that car. They dropped me off at a tavern back into town. Luckily they gave me free cold chili there. They just felt badly for me and they were also sad for me (photo is from in front of the tavern). Last but not least, there are two very important key people here. It wouldn’t be a lie if I said they saved my life. Ms. Carton and Mr. Lundblade. Without their help, I wouldn’t have gotten back to campus and gone to my uncle.

15 That was an unforgettable life lesson for me. Maybe things that felt painful at the time, prepares you for other steps in life. I cannot repay Pierre’s, Greta’s, Ms.Carton’s and Mr. Lundblade’s sacrifice. I am just grateful for these amazing people and for having experienced that meaningful memory.

Daily life is harsh, and most of us constantly seek escape from it in fantasies and dreams.

The Non-Stop Believers’ Journey to Believing

By Jasper Curtis ’22

Nothing is more difficult than trying to get six teenagers to compromise with each other. It is rare that 100% of them will agree on something. You will be lucky if you get them to even decide on a time to meet together. But do not even bother with getting them to all agree on a song they enjoy. They will all have songs that they want and will listen to no other suggestions. You can consider it a success if two of them agree on a song by chance.

This was the case for the Hebron Academy rock band. We met up in the beginning of the year, filled with energy and excitement to perform for the winter concert. We split up into two groups and the future seemed hopeful. It seemed hopeful for about a week, until it came to decide the song we were going to play. We never let our arguments become personal and we never resented each other for our song opinions, but deciding a song and sticking with it was quite the process. However, the stars aligned, as we did, when we chose “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey to perform for the winter concert.

Practice leading up to the concert was anxietyinducing for us all. The fear of letting everyone down was constantly looming over our heads. Weeks sped by faster than I could blink, and in no time, the concert was right around the corner. Was I prepared? Probably. Did I feel ready? No, I did not. As the bassist for the band, I felt particularly responsible for being the anchor for all the other musicians when we played; the cloud of doubt particularly gray over me. Gray quickly became a dark thundering storm as the day of the concert was

upon us. But the clouds dissipated when we practiced all together, one last time, hours before performing. I was struck with invigorated confidence, a shock that went through our whole group. Our newly formed band name, as silly as it was, truly encapsulated our newfound hope: The Non-Stop Believers. For we non-stop believed that we would truly shred with all we had; even when the curtain was pulled and lights beamed down onto us, as the crowd fell into a silence, before our drummer counted us in.

“When I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest” - Henry David Thoreau. The rush of performing with my friends is a feeling I have never experienced before. It is indescribable, similar to how indescribable the feeling of music is. It is a moment of grace, friendship and believing that I have cherished since and would never change. I am grateful for my friends in The Non-Stop Believers and I am thankful that I get to play alongside such talented musicians.

The Fear of Others

By Abrielle Johnson ’23

Seven A.M., the alarm goes off. I get out of bed and look in the mirror, and the motivational quotes my mother makes for me hang on the edges of it.

“You are enough.” No I’m not. “You are smart.” Hardly. “Think positive!” Easy for you to say. You’re just a piece of paper. Anyways, it was time for school.

Sitting in the classroom was worse than sitting in solitary confinement for me. My ears heard everything, and my eyes saw just as much. All the students talking and laughing with each other made me anxious. What if they’re talking about me? I see someone glance at me while talking to a friend. They’re one hundred percent talking about me. I close my eyes. As soon as I do, my thoughts consume me.

“Why are you closing your eyes?” Because I can’t stand to look at people. “That’s weird. You’re really weird.” No I’m not. “Yes, you’re weird. Now they’re all talking about how weird you are.” My thoughts then got interrupted by the teacher walking in and starting the class. Thank God. At lunch, things got worse. I sat with a couple close friends, but I don’t usually socialize a lot in cafeterias. They already give me enough sensory overload. I don't need the stress of trying to talk about relevant situations on top of that. I take a bite of my sandwich, and a girl taps my shoulder.

“Post-It Notes.” Global Success Academy, https://theglobalsuccessacademy.com/79-practical-toolsfor-motivating-yourself/. Accessed 11 May 2022.

“Why are you eating like that?” she asks. This question shot me right in the chest with a dagger. “What do you mean?” I asked the girl. She just giggled and shook her head, telling me “nevermind.” What? I quickly got up and ran to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror and pretended to chew something. Nothing seemed off about it though. I dug my head into my hands which was probably a mistake because it gave more room for the thoughts to pop back into my head. “Now everyone knows you chew weird.” I shook my head and looked back in the mirror. “They don't,” I said out loud. “They do.” My reflection spoke back to me.

“They all thought you were weird before, now imagine how much weirder they think you are,” my reflection said in a harsh tone. Tears formed in my eyes. My reflection laughed. “Are you seriously crying? Over the fact that someone said you eat weird?” She asked me.

“I am not the one making a big deal about it, you are!” I shouted. The bathroom went silent. Someone then walked in and gave me a weird look before entering a stall behind me. My reflection just shook her head at me and I stormed out of the bathroom.

After the day had ended, I was laying in my bed staring at the ceiling. Things that had happened literally over seven hours ago still spiraled around my brain. The classroom and loud chatter that made me feel self conscious. The cafeteria and random girl asking why I was eating like that. The bathroom and my fight with myself. I wish I didn’t fight with myself. I wanted to like myself but it’s really hard when you can’t stop being your own biggest bully. I let these negative thoughts swirl around my brain until I finally let myself drift off to sleep after three agonizing hours.

I was only ten years old. The next day would be the same. And the next. It was an endless repeat of never being able to escape myself. Most of the students carried heavy backpacks with many textbooks and homework, but the heaviest thing I have always had to carry, my whole life, was my anxiety. It was the never ending fear of being rejected or an outcast. As the years went by, I luckily got the help I needed. Even to this day though, I still struggle with these thoughts and am always still arguing with myself about small things that shouldn’t matter. Despite my suffering, my disorder has taught me something. You can never let what other people think control your life. Just because one person thinks something doesn’t mean everyone else does. We all have struggles and we all project those struggles on each other. I just hope one day all of humanity will realize this kind of behavior within ourselves and try to change it for the better.

My Last Word

By Lili-Marie Schmidt ’22

I am white. I am German. I am European. I am passing as European. I am a citizen of the EU. I am from a city. I am from a democracy. I am a native German speaker. I am an English speaker. I am cis. I am a non-religious Christian. I am a child of academics. I am middle-class. I am ablebodied. I am healthy.

The list of my privileges is endless. I haven't done anything to influence any of these characteristics. Yet, there are millions of experiences of discrimination I will never have to deal with due to my privileges. I couldn’t and I don’t need to state all of them. You know about them.

Instead, I am up here on this stage holding my last word. During this year I have had countless unique moments, and have probably gained more life experience than in any year before this. Yet, there is one question I could not get out of my mind. How do I deserve to be here? Why am I here? Why didn’t the girl from a small town in Sri Lanka get my bed at this school? She has to walk miles to get to school every day and after school she helps her mom with their four goats and three cows. Her school consists of one run-down building with two rooms, where she is taught with first through sixth graders. I didn’t make the existence of this girl up. I met her. How do I deserve to be here and not her? According to the UN, one out of five children between the ages of six and seventeen do not have access to education at all. I am just lucky that I am not one of them.

I am here because ASSIST and Hebron have given me an academic scholarship for this year, without which I would not be here. In Germany I was never bad at school. I always kept good grades, but so did so many other kids from so many other countries. So that is not why I ended up here. The reason I am here is due to the fact that I was born into a country that provides free education for everyone. It is due to the fact that my parents want me to succeed and help me do so. It is due to the fact that society wants me to succeed. It is due to the fact that I barely face social inequality or discrimination. I am not trying to say I didn’t do anything to get here, but there were a million other factors that helped me get here that I didn’t influence. It was pure luck, a mere coincidence, that I was born in Munich with parents who would and could do anything for me. I could have been born at the exact same moment in a totally different setting, in a township in South Africa, in a hospital in Afghanistan or as that girl in Sri Lanka and my life would have taken a very different turn.

Realizing this makes my Hebron experience even more valuable to me. I do not take it for granted that I get this additional opportunity, but going to Hebron puts me in an even better position for my future life. Hebron and its community have shaped me for a lifetime. I have come to a level of independence, from which I will benefit for the rest of my life. Thanks to the international community at Hebron, I have learned a lot about other customs, countries and cultures. I have made friends from all over the world, which I consider the greatest gift I will take away from Hebron.

Yet, there is one question I could not get out of my mind. How do I deserve to be here? Why am I here? Why didn’t the girl from a small town in Sri Lanka get my bed at this school?

Thank you Bea for taking me to your house when I got Covid and tried, but failed, to infect you as well; for picking me up from the train station in the middle of the night because I missed my train, and for teaching me how to snowboard, for which I realized I have little to no talent. Thank you Linn for missing your flight to Hebron because you waited for me. Thank you Linn and Kuba for sharing the smallest hotel rooms of New York City with me. And then there is Greta. Thinking back to when I first met Greta in the fall she seemed to be very shy. I am certain that she was a lot shorter than me and about three years younger than now. Greta managed to change my first impression of her very quickly. Thank you Greta for being so brutally honest, random, and funny. Thank you Nasra for coming to my room to say goodnight every evening. Thank you Emilio for our conversations. Thank you Dana for always being there for me. Thank you Kaan, Kuba, Calvin, DeMarco, Linn, Greta and Nola for making MUN in New York unforgettable! Thank you Ms. Stokes, Mr. Gautier, Dr. Swenton, Mr. Lundblade, Mx. Dube, Ms. Carton and all other Hebron teachers and Hebron staff for welcoming me with open arms. I honestly never got homesick during this year thanks to all of you who made Hebron my new home.

Even though the American culture still seems to be a little bit strange to me sometimes, I think I have come to understand where American beliefs are coming from. Hebron has helped me to comprehend the US and the world a great deal better. Hebron has brought me further on my journey to discover what I want to do and what’s important for others and for myself.

I still don’t understand how I deserve to be up here today. Yet, I believe that using my privileges—using our privileges— to make other people more privileged is the least thing I—we— can do, because I have nothing to complain about in my life. Thank you, Hebron!