2015 College Essay Edition

Cover Photo by Pryor Miller ‘15

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Take this edition with you! We have plenty.

College Essays

Winter 2015

Jesuit Journal

Contents & Acknowledgements College Essay by Adam Wiechman ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Andrew Alarcon ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Dominic Iannelli ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Jacob Maras ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by James Schroeder ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Jared Ucherek ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Michael Lanham ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Robert Africa ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by William Agraz ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Michael White ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

College Essay by Zachary Bishkin ’15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Editor........................... Byron Song ’15 Assistant Editor............. Pryor Miller ’16

John Wengierski ’16 Layout & Design.......... Byron Song ’15 Cover Artwork.............. Pryor Miller ’16 Moderator..................... Dr. Michael Degen

. 3 . 6 . 9 . 10 . 13 . 14 . 17 . 19 . 21 . 24 . 25

Thank you to all the seniors who were kind enough to allow us to publish their essays in our annual college essay edition, especially given the personal and reflective nature of some of the topics.

We wish well the seniors of the class of 2015 as the year draws to a close and as they prepare to leave Jesuit and go off to college and beyond.

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Adam Wiechman

Considering your lifetime goals, discuss how your current and future academic and extracurricular activities might help you achieve your goals.

I

am in no way the typical high school senior. My lifetime goal is not to drive a Ferrari, live in a mansion, earn a seven-figure salary, become a doctor, climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, set a world record, or even design the iPhone 20. I just want to solve a problem, a problem that has plagued the U.S. since the Industrial Revolution and isn’t going away anytime soon. The perpetual waste of the robust industrial machine still lurks throughout global society and reveals itself in issues of socioeconomic inequality, environmental degradation, resource volatility, and climate change. My goal is to do something about it, but this passion is by no means fortuitous.

I’m a policy debater. For the past four years, I have passionately engaged in an activity that by its inherent nature awards the team that can synthesize the complexities of global politics and sociology in a more persuasive way than the other team. To be successful, debate requires me to, round by round, immerse myself in the intricacies of decision-making and persuasion to convince someone in the back of a room that I am the better debater. Whether it be a realist’s interpretation of Russian oil instability or a Marxist’s perspective on perpetual commodification, I have to be well-versed in the specific faults and truths of multiple different views in a way that has completely changed the way I see the world.

Prior to debate, I was, quite frankly, the stereotypical jock. The only news source I checked regularly was Sports Center, and the only bit of politics I knew was that Obama might have been the president. My goal coming into high school was to be a starting catcher for the varsity baseball team, spend four years in college, and make a lot of money. That was it. My construction of the world was so sheltered, so narrow, and just so wrong, but debate changed me.

Instead of watching Sports Center, I am checking Politico. Instead of barely knowing Obama is the president, I know more about the governmental structure of China than my friends know about that of the United States.

Instead of my one goal being selfish success, I want to make an impact on this problem-infested world.

However, my goal doesn’t end with an abstract aspiration. Debate, the ultimate source of interdisciplinary education, has provided me with a core to shape the rest of my interests. My academic exposure is not simply governmental structures and pure economics, but so much more. For the past three years, I have studied the works of great philosophers, social theorists, movement leaders, but most importantly, scientists.

Throughout my life, I have always been the math geek. I always knew that math was my comfort zone and that the topics in my science classes would almost always come easily to me. Numbers came more naturally to me than words, giving me a comforting joy every time I sat down to do math homework, something that I was never able to feel writing an English essay. However, that was all math was for me, a series of problems, a set of numbers on a homework page. I didn’t know what any of this meant outside of the classroom. I, like most kids, was always humbled by the images of children in third-world countries, saddened by the pictures of hurricane victims, and troubled by the sights of homeless people under the bridge on my way home from school. But what was I supposed to do? I was just a kid that liked numbers and science, nothing else. Debate revealed to me that outlet.

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Throughout my high school experience, I have always been asked, “If you are so interested in math and science, then why do you do debate? Debate is for lawyers.” For the majority of my high school years, I didn’t have an answer for them. Last summer, I had the opportunity to watch a lecture given by a chemical engineering professor on renewable energy. I knew that engineering was for people that liked math and science, so I had always figured that this was where I had to go, a perfunctory rite of passage for people like me. I was so wrong.

As he began his lecture, he started to list what he thought were the ten biggest world problems, including things like education, poverty, healthcare, and resource scarcity. He then said something that will always remain with me: “all of these can be solved with a renewable and cheap source of energy.” I had found it. As he continued to explain his work in the field, I found myself succumbing to an unusual excitement. This was it. As the majority of the lecture hall began to sink into their seats, I perked up more and more, absorbing as much as I could from his explanation of the intricacies that surround common biofuels. I determined on that day that this was the way I could apply my love of math and science to a real world cause that affects millions of people every day.

My passion does not stop with math though. As I mentioned earlier, debate has introduced me to a wide range of academic areas that I would not have otherwise had the chance to experience. In particular, I have become greatly interested in the realm of politics. If someone had told me before high school that one of my postsecondary interests would be political science, I would have thought they were insane. Through my intensive research in prestigious think tanks and law reviews, I am fascinated with the power of policy. It continues to amaze me how the difference between problem and solution is a piece of legislation. Especially with the increasingly globalized nature of modern society, functioning government and proper regulation measures have become even more important. With increasing technological capability, increasing regulatory responsibility becomes inevitable, and there has to be some structure to control it. Whether it is energy consumption caps, trade restrictions, corporate regulation, and more, my debate experience has exposed me to the values and dangers of various policy mechanisms. Policy became not some alienated concept that was reserved for the people in Washington, but a profoundly engaging experience that tied me to something greater than myself.

In regards to renewable energy, my debate experience has taught me that my future doesn’t have to be a solely engineering experience. The field of energy is probably one of the most politically intense aspects of our legal system today. Whether it is EPA regulatory proposals, oil lobby backlash, or increasing tension with OPEC over volatile oil prices, the geopolitical scene in regards to energy is filled with opportunities of political application.

I can think of no better way to combine my passion for math and science with my fascination of policy.

Later in the summer, I attended a debate workshop at Dartmouth, where for five weeks, I immersed myself in the academic literature surrounding climate change, reading scientific journals and policy proposals from renowned think tanks and prestigious law reviews. Now, I believe that I am one of the most competent eighteen year-olds in the field of climate change. But my research continues, as climate change is one of the core aspects of my affirmative case for this year’s debate season. I continually check my news updates, filter through think tanks, and scavenge through scientific journals to further expose myself to this grave threat to all life on Earth.

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I have an aspiration, I have a goal, but I’m not a pure idealist. Despite the fervor of my disposition, I will not be able to solve such a pervasive issue with just a desire. If there is one thing debate has taught me it is that there is policy debate for a reason. It is never perfect. If the perfect solution to all world problems was conceivable, two-hour argument sessions would not be necessary. However, this understanding does not hinder my passion. I still see the value in continuing my intellectual curiosity in this subject from my math and science as well as my political science interest. There’s a reason that I’m not going to change anything this year, and that’s because I still have a long road of education ahead of me. I want to major in chemical engineering and maybe minor or even double major in political science. I want to immerse myself in the fascinating intricacies of renewable energy development and implementation as well as gain an understanding as to how I am going to make my mark on this problem-filled world. As the chemical engineering professor said in that lecture, I may be able to find that solution to those ten major problems that continue to affect the lives of billions of people. My name is Adam Wiechman, and I’m going to change the world.

“Practice Time” by Gail Nigel

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Andrew Alarcon

Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?

I

feel content at my family’s ranch. My family and I usually live in the suburbs in surrounding Dallas for most of our time. Usually on the weekends and the breaks, my family or just the men in the family go to the ranch to make improvements and take care of the livestock there. Working and being there in the ranch is my little niche in the world where I can relax. In the ranch, I can get away from the worries at home and focus on the task at hand like feeding the cows or collecting the hay. These tasks are usually manual, so they give my brain a rest from stressing out over school and homework. All I have to do is listen to my Dad and do it. In the ranch, I can easily recognize the fruits of my labor and know that my effort is not being wasted, like repairing the fence. Last summer, my Dad recently bought a new ranch and wanted to bring some cattle in before the start of the school year. To keep the cattle from wandering off the property, we needed to replace the old saggy, low fence with a newer, taut, high fence. We spent a few weeks changing about half-mile of fence, but the difference in quality of fence work was very noticeable.After it was done, I was very proud of the work we did. nother quality I like about the ranch is the change of scenery. I like the openness and the vibrant growth of nature you can see everywhere, from the pesky crickets to the beautiful wildflowers. When we have breaks from work, I often climb on to a post or a hill to get a good view of the scenery and reflect on it. To see the effect of the seasons or just how the wind makes it look like waves on the lake. Additionally, the ranch reminds me of my Dad’s hometown in Peru, called Andauhylillas. When I was around six, my parents took the family to live over there for a few years. It was a very different experience than the one living in the U.S. We lived with my uncle at the farm passed on from my grandparents after they passed. I remember every morning, I would get up and run around out back in the farm playing with whatever caught my eye or just exploring. The smell of livestock always predominant wherever I went. Now, whenever I go to the ranch, the smell, the livestock, and the environment in general always remind me of my childhood in Peru, which was one of the happiest times of my life. It gives me a link to my heritage in Peru where my roots lie and what kind of work my Dad and his siblings used to do when they were young.

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“Into the Light” Chris Lattanzio

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“Arabella” by Sharon Neel-Bagley

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Dominic Iannelli

“Why do you do what you do?”

I

wasn’t prepared for the assault. It came at the annual Club Fair at Freshman Orientation. The Club Fair was a chance for the school’s various clubs, organizations, and sports teams to recruit new members from the incoming class.

Held in the cafeteria, the event was huge. Dozens of tables beckoned to us, vying for attention as the freshmen meandered around the room window-shopping. I stood in the middle, wideeyed and unsure. I began to wonder about the implications of my selections that day—they would determine not only the path of my high school career, but also that of college and beyond.

“Want to be a doctor when you’re older?” upperclassmen called like carnival barkers, “then join the Medical Society!” Meanwhile, a few tables away, others yelled, “You look like the business type...come learn more about the Entrepreneurship Club!” Flyers and pamphlets were thrust into my arms…the barrage had begun. I stayed still, trying to discern my career vocation on the first day of high school. My father was a businessman, and my uncle was a doctor. Both had great jobs and lived great lives. “Which should I choose?” I wondered frantically to myself.

After the Club Fair, my extracurricular decisions came much easier. Trying to find my passions, I experimented in everything. I attended meetings from the Gaming Club to Robotics to Intramural sports, hoping to find good fits—and I did.

The first and most significant niche I found was the school band. Having played the trombone for years, it was a natural selection. Now, I’ve never enjoyed band because of the powerful marches or the lyrical etudes. To be honest, I’d much rather listen to the newest Justin Bieber album.

I really enjoy band because the experience of working together as a group, harmonizing diverse notes and sounds to complement one another in rhythmic accord, cannot be matched. I enjoy it because the moment in the spotlight at the Friday night football games, performing a carefully planned routine for thousands of fans, gives me an adrenaline rush unlike any other. I enjoy it because the laughs and antics with friends on spring trips to Disney World will be memories that I will cherish for decades.

In band, we prance around a field in plumber overalls, shoulder-padded jackets, and mop-like plumes, unabashedly honking annoying instruments as loud as humanly possible. Yet when the show is assembled, these ugly visuals and sounds blend to form a stunning display of music in motion.

In band, we belt out song after song on four-hour bus rides to Houston. We pull harmless pranks on theme park guests at Disney World. We lambast the drill team as pretentious show-offs, though we’re just bitter that they receive all the funding.

In band, we just don’t care. Everyone can be themselves. We know we’re not cool. We know we look ridiculous. But we accept it; rather, we embrace it. Why do we do it? Because we’re band kids, and that’s what band kids do.

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Jacob Maras

A

s I come to a new level of maturity in these past four years of my high school education, I have begun to challenge the system of conventional grading. Through being pressured to produce results based on rigidly defined limits and through seeing others pressured by such strictures, I have witnessed many drawbacks to the current academic standards for grades. In high school, I have had many classmates take a class solely for the sake of procuring a high grade point average, many other students avoid a class in fear of it harming their scores.

In realizing how many students make their decisions based on an artificial number, in focusing on the subjective grade, students miss learning for the sake of learning. Our system of grading teaches to learn only for profit, not for the interest and love of the subject. Additionally, when I myself have been pressured to earn ‘good grades’, I have often caught myself studying the material to pass a test, studying the material to do well for the sake of the grade, while not studying the material for the sake of learning and expanding my knowledge as well as my understanding.

My realization of this has therefore led me to question such a system and seek alternatives.

The system of grading perpetuates an artificial wage based reality where points are given based upon the “objective” discretion of standardized testing and the instructor’s subjective discretion.

Grades create a contrived incentive in which the purpose of learning is to earn or maintain a score, and not actually to learn or master the topic. For how many students would ever study solely to “learn something” and not to get a good grade? How many students exclaim “I need a good grade on this, I can’t fail this!” And how many students take easy classes in order to inflate their grades, how many students neglect their extracurricular interests to deal with grades?

Grades deprive students of finding their true interest, make it difficult to discern the motivation behind learning. With grades the motivation for learning is ‘forcing’ the student into working by punishing him with a ‘poor’ score if he fails to put forth effort, a ‘poor’ score that holds only as much meaning as the student and others allow it to have. Such a system is inherently flawed, and it forces upon children at an early age a dismal message; do as your told lest you should fail. Grades degrade creativity, liberal thinking, and worst of all, grades indoctrinate many into accepting the human and contrived system of monetary incentive, without reflection.

However, though one may know a certain system to be flawed, one must have a better alternative in order to remedy the current situation. Such an alternative, I believe, begins with choice, an education that encourages choice and exposes the student to a wide variety of academic topics before ever grading the child. Eventually, as the child expresses his or her interest in a certain area, he or she is given the freedom to pursue that area more thoroughly. Giving one the freedom to search for and discern one’s interests, bereft of the threat of poor grades or ‘failure,’ would allow children to attain their passions, free from the foolish threats which invoke nothing but needless fear. Having a passion for a subject would be reason enough for anyone to master his topic of interest. I believe, that as Horace Mann once proclaimed, “Education is the great equalizer” and if we then are truly to attempt to “equalize” society, it must be with unconditional and open education for all. I will continue to question and challenge our academic grading system, in search of cultivating a better alternative.

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“Atrium Number V” by Carlos Carulo

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Artwork in Jesuit courtyard

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James Schroeder

What matters to you, and why?

O

n the way back from vacation, at age four, I spent the flight memorizing the original 150 Pokemon characters. It wasn’t enough to play the videogame, I had to know it in depth.

During elementary school, it was sports statistics. From Ben Wallace’s 6-point-per game average, and Ichiro Suzuki’s .372 batting average, to LaDanian Tomlinson’s record breaking 31 touchdowns, I became a walking compendium of numbers.

Now that compulsive desire to delve deeply is less focused on stats and data, and more on ideas.

I have been thinking a lot about organized religion. For example, I recently read Freud’s The Future of An Illusion and was fascinated by his observation of people’s “infantile” compulsion to make up the God they need. I’ve discussed this with several teachers and have been interested and surprised by their unconventional responses.

My reflections are often sparked by the company of equally inquisitive friends. On a recent road trip, my friends and I got into a long discussion about Stephen Hawking’s theory of the expanding universe. The Texas plains exposed a vast expanse of blue horizon, which provided an eerie illustration of our discussion.

The pattern is clear, even though the content changes. Whatever I’m interested in at the time, I tend to dive in deep. So, whether I’m pondering God’s existence as a psychological construct or admiring the Texas horizon as an example of quantum physics, I value the chance to be open and curious and to surround myself with like-minded people.

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Jared Ucherek

Considering your lifetime goals, discuss how your current and future academic and extra-curricular activities might help you achieve your goals.

W

hile in high school at Jesuit, I have strived to become intellectually competent, open to growth, religious, committed to social justice, loving, and physically fit. In college, while I pursue a degree in engineering, I plan to continue to develop these traits. Specifically, I intend to focus on becoming even more intellectually competent and open to growth to maximize my potential in the field of engineering. I decided soon after beginning high school that I wanted to study engineering and have been focusing on developing these two specific traits to become a successful engineer ever since.

I have enrolled in challenging classes at Jesuit, and my success in each of them will provide me with the tools I need to succeed in the future as I begin my collegiate engineering studies.

Because of my interest in math and science, I believe that I have what it takes to progress in my education and I look forward to the challenges ahead. Academically, I have taken the highest honors or AP math and science classes offered at Jesuit that will prepare me for an engineering degree. Focusing on these classes, I have been able to excel in math and science subjects, which only further increases my motivation to become an engineer. In college, I hope to continue taking the engineering specific courses necessary for my success. My extracurricular involvement to help me progress my intellectual competence with engineering includes an engineering club, where we participate in group projects and local competitions, and interact with experienced guest lecturers. In college, I plan to continue to participate in extracurricular activities that offer me the opportunity to thoroughly expand my understanding of engineering.

In addition to intellectual competence, the ability to accept possibilities for growth will help me succeed in such a challenging major. Throughout high school, I constantly attempt to strive in my academics and extracurricular activities - I hope that doing so has prepared me for engineering in college. Based on the accolades of the Cockrell Sc hool of Engineering, I have decided that the University of Texas would be the most suitable place for me to major in this study. Offering nationally high ranking classes in every discipline, any choice I decide to study will provide me with a challenging curriculum and a promising future after graduation. Being open to growth in both high school and college can and will help me achieve my goal of becoming a successful engineer.

I am looking forward to my continued life journey and hope that my choice to study engineering makes the trip more exciting. While I focus on my intellectual competence and openness to growth to achieve my goals, I must also remain religious, committed to social justice, loving, and physically fit in order to continue my development into a well-rounded individual as I mature during college.

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“Cottage With Haystack” by Norman Lloyd

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“By a Hare” by Bob Hogan

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Michael Lanham

Describe a setting in which you have collaborated or interacted with people whose experiences and/or beliefs differ from yours. Address your initial feelings, and how those feelings were or were not changed by this experience.

I thought I knew a lot about the “real world” before I spent my summer working in Venus, Texas.

Growing up, I was constantly exposed to the strong opinions of my liberal, sociologist mother as well as my libertarian father. My mom always lectured me about the inequalities in our nation, while my father gave his take on limited government and laissez-faire economics. And to top it all off, I was inculcated with the strong opinions of my boisterous Italian relatives. Without a doubt, I had been exposed to a diversity of views. I felt like I had seen both ends of the spectrum and everything in between.

That all changed when I went to Venus. On a typical summer day, I would wake up just after dawn, shovel down some food, and catch a ride with my brother to the light rail station. On the train to Venus, I met all kinds of interesting characters, from Vietnam veterans to a man with the remarkable ability to doze while standing.

By my side at work was my supervisor Kevin, a nice man plagued by a rough childhood and an even more challenging adult life. Because of his cheerful disposition, you would have never guessed this was a guy with a double hernia as well as a felony drug conviction. To him, happiness came from a day’s wage after an honest day’s work, no matter how difficult the job.

In the two months we worked together, we tackled anything from septic lines to electrical poles. He taught me the value of hard work and showed me that happiness can be independent of material gains or past successes.

While he received little formal education, Kevin brought a great deal of common sense to our conversations. He always preached the value of honesty and said things like, “if you’re honest in all you do, then no one can ever come back and point the finger at you for doing wrong.” Although I felt I knew the value of verity before I went to Venus, Kevin gave the importance of truthfulness new meaning. He also provided me insight into his early years, speaking extensively of his upbringing in podunk Venus, a tale much different from my own childhood in urban Dallas. With no father figure and a young, troubled mother, Kevin had no stability at home. Eventually, he was more or less dumped off with his grandmother, a sweet woman who took him in and blessed him with a sharp moral compass. Despite his criminal record, he could be trusted with anything, a well-liked individual throughout Johnson County. He showed me everyone deserves a second chance.

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As I worked with him, I noticed how much his hernias ailed him, and so one day I asked him how he was doing. Although not usually emotional, he confessed that his condition was worsening. He wanted to delay surgery because he could not afford it. If he chose to go ahead with the procedure, he risked everything, including his house. Kevin was backed into a corner.

I felt a deep need to help him resolve this predicament. At lunch one day, we looked into the indigent healthcare for Johnson County, hoping to heal him and protect his property. After struggling through the application, we submitted it and hoped for the best. Although it took some time and effort, it was well worth it and gave him the chance to be rehabilitated.

When I first drove down State Highway 67, I expected to do a day’s work and get a day’s pay and nothing more. After all was said and done, I brought a lot more back to Dallas with me than money. Working with Kevin taught me that each individual has dignity and is of immense value, whether they’re born poor and disadvantaged in Venus or well-off and privileged on Earth.

Cross in front of Jesuit

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Robert Africa As I squeezed through the crowded jeepney, my mind was distracted by one word: Africa. Lost in thought, I almost fell over the steps of the noisy jeepney. Attaining balance, I absorbed the gloomy gray sky, and a citadel of corrugated metal, plywood doors, and ornaments of pans, broken toys, and muddy linens hanging from makeshift windows ahead of me. Thinking about the poor here, I scurried to my tay (father) and my Tito Danilo as they beckoned me with the words “halika, halika.” Half-asleep due to the time zone change but energetic for my H.E.A.R.T. organization medical mission, I only heard my Tito explain to me that we were in Batangas, Philippines and that the rusty, concrete house isolated from the shanty town was our family’s ancestral home; it would be a temporary clinic for the neighborhood. It was under this rudimentary roof that I would attempt to uncover the truth to a lifelong mystery of mine: “Where did I get my unique last name Africa?”

When I entered into our ancestral home through the graffiti gate, a portrait of my grandfather Gregorio A. Africa, Sr., who passed away before I was born, fascinated me. As I gazed into his tired face, I remembered he spent his entire life educating people in this shanty town and working for enough money to send his children to school. I solemnly recalled the last words he whispered to my father before he passed away: “the greatest gifts I can give my children are the passion for knowledge and the will to use knowledge humbly for the welfare of others.” What I took out of my grandfather’s legacy and hold to heart was that despite lacking luxuries and advantages that wealthy own, despite the lowly position one is born in, it is persistence in obtaining education and living in modesty and service to others that truly matters. It is my grandfather’s last words that inspire me to seek extraordinary education and unselfishly use my knowledge and experiences to become a physician to serve others. It is with these last words of his that I began to formulate answers to that lifelong question of mine.

My ancestral home served well as a hospital for marginalized children. As the physicians saw patients, I organized recorded blood pressures, I taught the children simple mathematics. Connecting with each patient, I caught a glimpse of my ancestral country’s message to the world from their optimism towards learning and common desire to excel: to prove, despite adversities like typhoons and disease, that Ang Galing ng Filipino (Filipinos are talented and great people). Before I would sleep sardine-style with my family, I pondered about the resilience of this country’s people. From the other side of the world, I reclined on a plastic chair and thought how wonderful it was to be Filipino and part of this developing country.

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Being in the Philippines, I understood that Africa may be more than a unique surname: it’s a link that connects me to my Filipino identity. It’s a gift from the disadvantaged Filipino people bestowed upon me to represent the nation’s enthusiasm and talent in the big leagues of America. It’s my grandfather’s memento and legacy to seize educational opportunities and pursue intellectual curiosity not only for success but also for the good of others no matter the obstacle. It’s an indelible mark that empowers me to show that people of modest upbringings can become leaders and compete at the same level as the advantaged. It’s a word that defines me.

Although I was unable to find its true origin, Africa remains a lifelong enigma so that I can always believe in my own reasons for the name and continue to mature seeking its meaning for me in college and beyond. Even when my name becomes Dr. Africa M.D., I can explain to curious patients why I believe I have such a peculiar last name.

Artwork in front of Jesuit

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William Agraz

What’s so odd about odd numbers?

“

Has anyone seen Nine lately?” asked Six, craning her long neck to scan the hallway crowded with adolescent numbers.

“Hasn’t been at school for a few days,” replied a bored Four, lazily flicking through a sports magazine.“I’m kind of glad. He always seemed pretty weird to me.”

“I thought he was sweet.”

“That’s just because it’s like looking in a mirror for you.”

“So you admit that he was good looking.”

“Whatever. Can we please just stop talking about this?” Four whined, putting down his magazine.

It was an average day at Number Academy, a college prep school in southern California. Four, the starting quarterback loafed around with Six, the bubbly cheer captain. Eight, the star of the basketball team, practiced free throws while his girlfriend, Two, studied in the stands. One, Three, Five, and Seven huddled around a tabletop game, Nine conspicuously absent. Ten, the student council president, roamed from group to group, employing his dazzling smile and charisma to gather the latest gossip, getting the scoop on everyone in the school. Wearing a triumphant smirk, Ten emerged from a conversation with Fourteen and Sixteen, searching for Six and Four. Upon sighting them lounging in an empty classroom, he rushed over, eager to share the juicy news that he had just picked up. He looked around the room and asked them, “Do you guys remember Nine?

You know, that kid who was always hanging out with Seven and the others?”

“We were just talking about him!” Six exclaimed. Four rolled his eyes.

“Well, I know why he hasn’t been at school lately,” he teased, reluctant to give up such a tantalizing topic so easily.

“Why? Tell me tell me tell me,” chanted Six, leaning forward, preparing to react melodramatically.

Four rolled his eyes.

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“I want Eight and Six to hear this too. Meet me with them in the cafeteria after school. See you then!” replied Ten as he abruptly turned around and walked off, disappearing into the crowded hallway.

“I hate it when he does that,” mumbled Six. “You were asking for it, acting so interested like that,” admonished Four.

“Shut up.”

“Love you too, Six.” The rest of the day passed impossibly slow for Six as she waited to hear the news, thinking up endless explanations for Nine’s absence. When the ninth period bell rang she rushed out of class, searching for Eight and Two, leaving Four to mutter as he picked up her backpack. When he finally arrived in the cafeteria he found Six sitting impatiently while Eight and Two exchanged glances, wondering why they were there. Ten was nowhere to be found.

“That is so like him,” muttered Six. She heard a sharp knock on the door frame and immediately looked up. “‘Sup guys,” Ten said, sporting a wide grin, as he slowly sauntered into the room.

“I did what you asked already. Everybody’s here. Just tell me!” demanded Six. “Okay, okay,” said Ten, finally ready to drop his gossip bomb. “I heard that Mr. and Mrs. Fortynine were out of town last weekend, so Seven threw a crazy party at her house that she only invited her friends to. And then, when everyone was about to leave, Seven ate Nine.” He waited for their thunderous responses. The only reaction he got was Two’s shocked shriek. “I know right!?” exclaimed Ten. “Isn’t that-” “WHY WERE YOU WITH HER, EIGHT?” screamed Two. “I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!” She tried to continue, but she broke down instead, sobbing uncontrollably.

Eight stopped his conversation with Four about their fantasy football league, paying attention to the main discussion for the first time. Caught completely unprepared to deal with a hysterical girlfriend, he could only muster a confused “Huh?”

Ten sighed. “No, not Eight, ate. Like you eat a taco.”

“Oh,” said Two, quickly recovering from her exaggerated hysterics. “That’s weird.”

Six, having finally heard what she had waited all day for, simply said, “I did not expect that at all.

They’re pretty odd.”

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While Two, Four, Six, Eight, and Ten were gossiping about her, Seven was busy calling Nine on his new telephone number. “How’s Michigan?” she inquired. “ Pretty cold compared to California, but it’s not so bad here,” replied Nine.

“Did the move go okay? That’s a pretty long way to go.”

“Yep, everything worked out fine. Sorry that I didn’t spread the news that I was moving. I hope nobody started up any rumors at school.”

“Nah,” said Seven. “I think we’re good.”

And so the rumor spread, until nearly everyone started calling One, Three, Five, Seven, and all of their friends “the odd numbers.”

Artwork in Jesuit courtyard

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Michael White

As Georgetown is a diverse community, the Admissions Committee would like to know more about you in your own words. Please submit a brief essay, either personal or reative, which you feel best describes you.

M

y dad was born on an Air Force base in Japan to a Japanese mother and a Jamaican father, a love story that only a filmmaker could conjure up. My mom came from a family of 5 red-headed Irish children. My sister is adopted, and her birthparents have ties to Hispanic countries as well as southern Asia. To top it all off, our dog is a Chihuahuabulldog mix with the traditional Hispanic name, “Papi.” One could say that my family is a suburban North Texas version of the U.N. With said background, one might assume that I’m a ganja-loving, sushi-rolling, whiskybrewing, Brangelina-aspiring southern Bible-Thumper. One might assume that I’m looking at the School of Foreign Service. Well, one would be wrong; stereotyping is evil in the first place. Although I do like talking about social issues at the dinner table, what really excites me is music…specifically, vinyl.

My interest started when my parents passed down their record player to me as a birthday present before freshman year. I immediately made them drive me to Mad World Records, the best store in Denton, Texas. I remember spotting countless LPs and CDs that I thought only existed in digital form. I remember specifically buying LPs from Passion Pit, A Tribe Called Quest, and Baroness. Only a nerd would remember that with so much detail, but vinyl’s magic makes those memories vivid.

Maybe it’s the slight difference in musical quality, as well as the collectability of records. Maybe it’s more than that; it is preserving something from the past for me, although carrying on the wax’s legacy is cool.

So yes, I am technically a panda (White, Black and Asian) from the upper-middleclass Texas, but, maybe like a needle on vinyl, that only scratches the surface.

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Zachary Bishkin I was fat.

I looked fat.

I felt fat.

I ate what I wanted, but I was never happy with myself.

The stomach throbbed while the heart starved.

My friends teased me about my weight. I didn’t play sports. I ate cookies and milk every day for a snack. I hadn’t ordered a kid size portion since I was six.

I was tired of my fat.

My metamorphosis started out slow. In 7th grade, I joined the cross-country team. Slow is the best description of that experience. In every cross-country meet that Fall, I finished in the last 3 places every time, several minutes behind the main pack of runners. I felt defeated after every meet, but I returned to practice the next day. I also tried basketball that year, but only found something I was worse at than running. I still hadn’t lost any weight because I just ate more, justifying it with the fact that I had exercised.

That summer, I went on a trip with classmates to Costa Rica, where I spent significant time in a swimsuit. The myriad of disgusted looks that I received when I removed my shirt solidified my intent to lose weight.

I subjected myself to a strict regiment: No sodas, no fried foods, no more than 1500 calories per day. I had never dieted before. While dieting, I found a running mentor: my best friend’s father, who had recently lost over 200 lbs. through dieting and working out. I would mimic his food choices and practice his exercise routine, striving to mirror his image. I lost 30 lbs. that summer. By the end of the next cross country season, I ran 10 miles every Saturday, placing better in each meet as the year progressed. Running channeled my unhappiness, a replacement for the pounds that continued to drop off my body.

Enter Murphy’s Law. About three miles into a morning run, a shock of pain shivered down my body, and every step following caused the same pain, a numb reality propagated by each shock. I went to the doctor: I had a nerve pinch. I couldn’t run until it worked itself out, which could be several months. I had now lost forty lbs., more than a quarter of my original weight. Now that I couldn’t exercise, I was afraid I would revert to my old weight.

I was skinny.

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I looked skinny.

I still felt fat.

I ate nothing and I was never happy with myself.

The stomach and the heart starved together.

Everyone remarked on my emaciation. I couldn’t run. I ate my joy and dignity every day for a snack.

I hadn’t eaten a full portion in months.

I never thought I was skinny.

Until my mentor told me I had lost too much weight, I refused to listen to anyone’s assertions. I trusted my mentor more than I trusted anyone, so I researched to verify his claim.

I was anorexic.

A rarity in men, anorexia affects more than the physique. The disease inters a belief that every pound lost brings the person closer to perfection. In reality, every pound lost represents an aspect of the fleeting personality. It’s easy to say that individuals shouldn’t listen to others, yet, as humans we internalize everything. The more difficult wisdom to internalize is that the opinions of others cease to matter when those opinions compromise our health.

I am a foodie.

I look good.

I feel healthy.

I eat everything and I savor each bite.

The stomach and the heart feast together.

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We want your submissions!

We strive to highlight the creative talents of Jesuit students, whether in the form of drawings, paintings, short stories, poems, essays, photography, recipes, or any other type of artistic expression.

To do that, though, we need your submissions. We accept all school-appropriate creative works, regardless of topic, from all current Jesuit students. These do not have to be from a Jesuit art class, nor do they have to be new. Anything you have made or will make would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you for your consideration.

We hope to see one of your creations published in a future edition.

Please email all submissions to jcpjesuitjournal@gmail.com.

If you have any questions, contact Byron Song ’15, Pryor Miller ’16 or Dr. Degen.

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Photo taken by Pryor Miller ‘16