Spring 2017 by Jesuit Journal

JOURNAL J

NO. 2

SPRING 2017

COVER BY EVAN HARGRAVE â&#x20AC;&#x2122;18

CONTENTS ESSAYS BASS STEWART ERIK SANCHEZPEREZ JACK HALL NOAH SHERER KIERAN TAYLOR MATTHEW BREWER BEOMHAK LEE JACK SCHWAB MARTIN FLORES XANDER WIERSCHEM GREG TAN MATTHEW CLAYTON WILL ABERGER ALEX GARCIA ARTWORK DANIEL VAN AMERONGEN MACCOY LOPEZ ETHAN KISSEE TIM TIGHE EVAN HARGRAVE NICK BUEHLER

Editor Luke Gonzales ’18 Moderator Mr. Ian Berry ’07

The Jesuit Journal aims to provide students interested in writing and visual art with a space to showcase their talents. The spring 2017 issue focuses on college essays written by the students of the class of 2017. This issue’s cover features a colored pencil piece by Evan Hargrave ’18, completed in an advanced drawing class.

THE COLLEGE ESSAY EDITION

Some students have an identity, an interest, or a talent that defines them in an essential way. If you are one of these students, then tell us about yourself.

BASS STEWART ’17

If you can’t go through it, go around it; if you can’t go around, go over it; if you can’t go over it, go under it. Regardless of whether I can go through it, around it, or under it, I always have to go over it. That’s just how pole vault works. The sun reflects off the glossy pole as I raise the tip into the air, standing erect, with my arms and the pole against my chest, and my head up, focused on the bar which I am supposed to fly over. The guy who was up before me, standing six feet tall, weighing one hundred and fifty five pounds, just finished his vault with ease, in which he jogged down the runway, planted his pole in the pit, and used the bend of the pole to propel himself toward the sky, flying up and over the bar, like a bird avoiding a branch, and landing gently on the mats like cat. Standing in at five feet and six inches, with a weight of one hundred and fifty pounds, lacking both the control of a bird and the finesse of a cat, it may have been a good idea to walk away and try another sport, but, out of curiosity, I shoved doubt aside, took a deep breath, and started running, eager to undertake a new challenge, taking large first steps in a new direction. Just as I bounded down the track, experiencing this new domain, I have similarly asked questions and taken different paths to satisfy my curiosity, from asking my mom where babies come from to traveling abroad to help people. Pole vault gives me a way to exercise my insatiable curiosity. Running down the track, I feel the weight of the bar as the tip of the pole gradually descends, raising one arm over my head and the other straight out in front. Suddenly, the pole arches backwards, shifting my weight and causing my arms to quiver, but I kept them straight, craning my head back and raising my right leg upward, prepping for launch. Quivering. I often found myself quivering in chemistry, intimidated by dense AP curriculum. Sometimes my arms quiver as my classes appear to hold me down, but I nonetheless keep trying to prep for the launch. I am more confident because of my hard work in pole vault, and thus, more confident in my academic abilities.

Realizing my body is lifting off of the ground, I pull my hips and legs above my head, and throw my head back as the pole flexes forward, pushing me up into the sky, where I begin to fly. In the air I am free in the most literal meaning of the word. Humans weren’t made to fly, just as I wasn’t built for pole vault, but surmounting great heights in the sport challenges common assumptions in an untraditional fashion. Pole vault provides me the opportunity to bend the rules and do things that others might think to be impossible. Yet, this split second of hang time ends almost as quickly as it had begun, for whatever goes up must come down. Falling back to earth, I ease down into the foam mat. Coming back to the earth presents me the opportunity to rise to the occasion once again. Just as the cushion prevents me from injury, so too have my friends and family been the cushion for me in life. When I fall, I am helped up, and when I fly, I am cheered on. Seeing friends achieve great heights, as well as long falls, has only strengthened my resolve to do everything to the fullest. Pole vault ingrained in me this “try and try again” mentality, which has lead to my success in the academic sphere, my strength in my relationships with others and God, and my positive attitude in my journey through life.

DANIEL VAN AMERONGEN ’18 (UNTITLED) Acrylic on canvas

The lessons we take from failure can be fundamental to later success. Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?

ERIK SANCHEZ-PEREZ ’17

At the age of nine, I began working in my father’s small tree service company to learn the values of hard work. My father would take me along with him to a local lawn and tree care equipment store. These trips became my opportunity to wander about, asking my father what each tool did while sticking an endless amount of quarters in the conveniently placed candy dispenser by the front entrance. As I grew older, the trips kept their initial value, until one summer day when my perfect childhood memory became a cause for frustration and hatred. While on a job, a very tall tree required the acquisition of a new tool: a poll saw. Instead of wandering off and sitting on the new model lawnmowers, I decided to follow my father. Observing the myriad of pole options available on the rack, my father found the perfect one, a beautiful wooden brown pole adorned with metal clamps at either side. He approached the sales representative, asking him for details on the product. As my father continued to articulate his questioning, I noticed another customer, a Caucasian adult male, clearly amused by my father’s accent as he watched the interaction from just a few steps away. An intense wave of frustration washed over my body and my once pleasant demeanor turned sour in a matter of seconds. My anger developed into rage, and I felt a powerful will to approach the man, yet I knew that my emotions would drive me to become hostile. Once I noticed that the sales representative had also joined in the laughter and banter right in front of my father, I asked him if we could leave. My father did not see the issue, purchased the pole, and proceeded to the car with me trailing behind, mean mugging the people who disrespected someone who has taught me everything about life. As I sat down in the passenger seat, I immediately felt regret and complete hatred for myself for not speaking up when I had the chance. I still reminisce about the day that I failed, not just my father and the rest of my family, but every other person who must deal with discrimination and racism in their lives. The fact that those people laughed at my father’s accent did not constitute the whole issue; the reason for my frustration proved to be intangible. My father grew up in rural Mexico with five siblings in a home with no flooring or a proper roof. At the age of nine, after his father passed away, the responsibility of providing for the family fell on his shoulders. As the

EVAN HARGRAVE ’18 “FIST” Colored pencil

second oldest child, he would work odd jobs around his pueblo every day, and would go without food if it meant that his siblings could eat what little they had. He immigrated to the United States to provide his children better opportunities than what he had, starting his own business with only an elementary school education. The fact that my father sacrificed everything for the well-being of his family made me feel that I should have found a solution to diffuse the issue when it occurred. Since the incident, I have become more aware of issues of discrimination toward all groups of people. In many ways, what disturbed me the most was how two men in a store treated my father like a child. Rather than prompting me to reciprocate the same hatred and disrespect as the people at the store demonstrated toward him, the event made me aware that no one deserves such treatment. It has created an obligation to help the people who gave me everything, for I felt the same pain when I witnessed the ridicule of my father. In a sense, the experience proved to be the catalyst that facilitated the deeper sense of purpose that has motivated me to inspire those in my community.

ETHAN KISSEE â&#x20AC;&#x2122;17 (UNTITLED) Pencil

Describe a problem, possibly related to your area of study, which you would like to solve. Explain its importance to you and what actions you would take to solve this issue.

JACK HALL ’17

I’ll tell the problem I need to solve. 25,000 applicants and I need to communicate how I’m unlike every one of them. Furthermore, I need to do it while listing how I compare favorably to all 25k. Is it important to me? Well, it only will have the most significant impact on my life, not just to date, but for the rest of my life as well.

So Jack, you want to be an engineer? Time to work the problem.

Do I write another essay about my immersion trip to Peru? It was amazing, but all of a sudden it seems trite. Highlight my leadership role as president of the Young Men’s Service League? Too many might have something similar. Tutoring under privileged inner city kids? Fulfilling, but will it set me apart? Can’t risk it, gotta get weird. Maybe I spell it out for them. You see, the biggest problem I see is many many Texas kids will get accepted and many have no intention of ever setting foot in Athens. If I get in, they can brace for impact, I’m coming. I’m the engineer that can solve problems and relate to both numbers and human beings, and I can’t wait to get started.

Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.

NOAH SHERER ’17

Imagine the scene in Gulliver’s Travels, where Gulliver is tied up and dragged to the ground by ant-sized humanoids. Now replace the ropes with little toy jump ropes, the antsized humanoids with second graders, Gulliver with me, and add the rest of second grade pelting me with dodgeballs. Let’s step back from this and try to figure out what’s happening. How did a bunch of children wrestle a 5’11 180 pound teenager to the floor? How is this about adulthood? At the beginning of junior year, I realized I wanted to get more involved in community service. My previous service experiences were lackluster and I never had any opportunities to make personal connections with those I served. I mainly went through the motions when I was trying to fulfill my school’s service requirement and did not act selflessly to help my community. One fateful day in autumn, I heard that there was a need for volunteers at a local elementary school. I thought “Why not? I already know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, so I should be able to help elementary school kids!” so I signed up. Within the first few days, I really hit it off with the kids and they’d actually listen to my instruction. Overtime, I eventually figured out that I probably listened and talked to them more than their teachers and sadly sometimes more than whomever they went home to at night. I also tried to make the lessons pertain to what their interests were. One of my proudest moments was when I helped one child who loved the WWE create an acrostic poem of his D.R.E.A.M.S. with the child contributing the DDT (an inverted headlock as I looked up later) and my contribution of the simple RKO (Randy Kyle Orton). One day the teachers asked if I could assist with “Parent’s Night Out”. I gladly accepted, and was put in control of the gym. It became chaos quickly. First, I attempted to create an organized game of dodgeball; however, the temptation to hit each other was too great for the students, so my efforts quickly became disorganized. My attempts to reestablish order dissolved into different parties supporting either the anarchists or me. One of the anarchists found jump ropes and figured that they could wrap people like the Hoth Snowspeeders from The Empire Strikes Back to bring them to the ground like an Imperial Walker. Wanting to possibly recreate this scene, some of the anarchists ran after me and managed to get me on the ground. Of course when I say “managing to get” I mean I acquiesced to their attempts to pull me down and voluntarily fell in a fashion to make it look like they succeeded. My loyalists, who mostly consisted of the kids I directly tutor, began to scream “GET OFF MASTER SPLINTER!” (the nickname they gave me) and tried to pull the anarchists off of me to minimal success!

Looking back on it now, I realize that this moment exemplifies the impact I’ve had on those kids and the impact they’ve had on me. For some of the kids, I was a little more than their tutor. For others, I was the only person in their life that would listen to them and allow them to discuss their interests. And for the rest, I was simply an oversized man-child they used to escape their realities. As for me, this represents my transition to adulthood in my community. I used to dread going to community service and just being stuck with stacking boxes or shelves; however, I began to love doing service as a result of this school. Due to this, I have become a better contributor to my community and other’s lives. I can now truly adhere to my school’s motto of being a “Man for Others”.

Describe a problem you’ve solved or a problem you’d like to solve. It can be an intellectual challenge, a research query, an ethical dilemma - anything that is of personal importance, no matter the scale. Explain its significance to you and what steps you took or could be taken to identify a solution.

KIERAN TAYLOR ’17 No single day has changed my life more than the day McDonald’s introduced the AllDay Breakfast Menu. I experienced true liberation for the first time on that day, the freedom to enjoy the golden fluffiness of the Hotcakes and the silky perfection of the Egg McMuffin whenever I pleased. The ability to get breakfast at any time from McDonald’s was almost like therapy to me, motivating me even when times were tough. However, one fatal flaw still exists in McDonald’s current food service plan, a fatal blemish on an otherwise infallible food chain that keeps the restaurant from reaching fast food Nirvana. The problem with McDonald’s, and the problem I so desperately wish to solve, is the current inability to purchase lunch from McDonald’s before 10:30. Growing up, the golden arches of my local McDonald’s signaled entryway into a $5.99 paradise. Every Thursday my mother would treat my sister and me to a Happy Meal dinner from America’s finest restaurant. Ronald McDonald acted almost as a second father to me. As I grew up, those meals from McDonald’s became only more and more precious. On a particularly bad or stressful day I could count on the comfort of a cheap McRib to remind me that pain is only temporary, but as a Fortune 500 company, McDonald’s is forever. When the All-Day Breakfast Menu was announced, my heart leapt like it never had before. No longer did I have to conform to the draconian notion that “Breakfast should be eaten in the morning” whilst trying to enjoy a simple meal from McDonald’s. At last I could be free, free to experience the comforts of the full McDonald’s menu at all times. So I thought, until one fateful morning in DFW airport when, while attempting to buy some McNuggets, I was informed that lunch would not start being served until 10:30. If eyes could speak, mine would have been saying something akin to “et tu, Brute?” at that moment. How could McDonald’s betray me like this? Why would they not run an All-Day Lunch Menu to complement the AllDay Breakfast Menu? What sort of bizarre reasoning could a company running on minimum wage have used to consider saving money by withholding all-day lunch from the people? This was a flagrant violation of consumer rights I would not tolerate.

The freedom to eat goes both ways, and for McDonald’s to only support one All-Day Menu program without even sniffing their nose at the other demonstrates a clear bias against those who prefer a nontraditional breakfast. I guarantee at least one person out there would react to an All-Day Lunch Menu in the same way I reacted to the All-Day Breakfast Menu, and if McDonald’s truly wanted everyone to be “Lovin’ It,” they would seek to improve the lives of their patrons in any way they could, even if just for one person. The need for McDonald’s to create an All-Day Full Menu system and offer lunch before 10:30 goes far beyond a simple business decision; it extends into being possibly the greatest human rights achievement of the 21st century. So what can I, a simple fast food aficionado, do to help bring about this change? Well, any change begins by making one’s voice heard. McDonald’s patrons must picket outside of restaurants holding signs with kitschy sayings like “Stop Hamburgling our rights” and “Dining inequality makes me Grimace.” Children must boycott McDonald’s and settle for a Wacky Pack from Sonic until the issue is resolved. Students must waste their Common App essays talking about this problem. We are on the verge of a thought revolution within the fast food industry, and it begins with us, at 8 AM, with a Big Mac, side of fries, and a large soda.

TIM TIGHE ’18 “LOUIS” Acrylic on canvas

Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.

MATTHEW BREWER ’17

Nervously stepping to the corner of the small Emergency Room, I watched as a gurney rushed in, surrounded by a team of EMT’s donning surgical scrubs, one of whom was furiously compressing an elderly man’s chest. Hours earlier, I was on a routine hospital rotation with my school’s Medical Society, shadowing a respiratory therapist (RT). My day had started out fairly uneventful, as I traveled from room to room, taking patients’ blood pressure and observing breathing sounds, my ears sore from prolonged stethoscope use. I hadn’t expected much excitement or drama entering the hospital that morning, but to my surprise I witnessed what could’ve been a scene straight out of Grey’s Anatomy. The RT glanced down at his beeping pager and yelled to follow him as we dashed to the ER to meet an incoming patient. As an Eagle Scout who has received a CPR certification and various other basic first aid training, I had practiced performing chest compressions on a dummy before, but had never witnessed them given to a human being. Each compression sent shudders through the man’s core, the RT quickly intubating him, and in all the chaos still finding a chance to explain his actions every step of the way. Observing my overwhelmed appearance, he immediately involved me into the action, handing me an ambu bag, instructing me how to attach it to the breathing tube, and periodically squeeze it to breathe for the man. For the next few moments my focus shifted away from the bustling ER, away from the nurses cutting the man’s clothes off, away from their poking and prodding him with different needles, away from their placing an IV and administering a shot of adrenaline. None of the outside world existed now as I focused on squeezing the green rubber bag. ‘1-2-3-4-5-6-7 Squeeze!’ was the simple cadence that occupied my mind, my brain vigorously fighting to keep my focus isolated. My role as a RT was short lived however, because soon my eyes fell onto the EKG screen, observing the man’s flagging heartbeat. Without warning, a continuous high pitch tone took the place of the intermittent beeps until the device was switched off. A slight hush fell over the room as the EMT stopped the compressions. I noticed a chaplain in the corner of the room gently consoling the patient’s wife who had just honored her husband’s Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) request. I was quietly instructed to stop pumping the bag by the RT, and I heard a doctor in the distance call out “time of death…”

Prior to this event, I was set on pursuing a career in the medical field, but after leaving the ER, having witnessed the complicated role a doctor must play in stressful situations, I was left questioning my aspirations and contemplating my experience. How does a doctor detach himself from the tragedy surrounding the loss of human life, yet respectfully interact and connect with the family of the deceased? What balance exists between the natural and spiritual worlds within a doctor’s mind, maintaining medical professionalism while honoring the sanctity of life? How does one deal with the knowledge that encountering death can be a common occurrence, but preserve a passion for one’s job? One answer arrived in the final image of the day: the patient’s wife, observing her husband’s final struggle for life, one hand held by the doctor, the other held by the chaplain. Her peaceful countenance symbolized the unity between the physical and spiritual within the medical field.

Describe a problem you’ve solved or a problem you’d like to solve. It can be an intellectual challenge, a research query, an ethical dilemma--anything that is of personal importance, no matter the scale. Explain its significance to you and what steps you took or could be taken to identify a solution.

BEOMHAK LEE ’17

First day of Freshman debate recruitment started with my anticipation of how many pedagogical benefits I would attain. However, that did not last long. As soon as I glanced at the novice debate packet called the “Embargo 1AC,” the immense flood of information, sophisticated political jargon, and International Relations terms quickly placed me in a quandary - to join or not to join the team. One must understand that I, literally beginning from the pronunciation of the alphabet, just learned English only three years prior. Debate constitutes intellectual challenges for many. Such challenges include: interpreting numerous debate jargons, committing tremendous hours of research every day to current events, and taking notes on ridiculously fast speeches while preparing for one myself under severe time pressure. However, when I thought about joining the team, linguistic challenges from only three years of English experience severely aggravated those intellectual challenges. The language barrier felt like a “wall” that I would never break through. The first day of practice quickly transformed my anticipation and excitement into feelings of insecurity and incompetence. My desire to challenge myself evaporated, which led me to quit debate. I just wanted to stay within my comfort zone.

The process of transformation began with the acknowledgement of the existence of the language barrier that prohibited me from achieving what I desired. Often, I would fear the challenges of ‘getting out of my comfort zone’ and simply ignore that a problem exists. Before my sophomore year, as I reconsidered joining debate, I realized that it was a prison, created by my personal perception that I will never successfully resist language limitations, that had jailed and prevented me from the intellectual experience so valuable. Consequently, I simply thought to myself, “This is nothing compared to learning a new language from scratch.” Then, my personal fear transformed into a form of courage and perseverance that precipitated me to escape from my prison. For example, despite the fact that I still could not comprehend the majority of the discussion after I recommitted, I attended practice every day, confidently asked questions whenever necessary, and even set up personal meetings with the coaches to alleviate my language concerns. The fact that the language barrier still existed was irrelevant because now I had the courage to persevere through it. Moreover, my new approach to debate also later translated into my intellectual curiosity from others that ultimately built up my vocabulary. Every time I encountered sophisticated vocabulary or simply anything that I could not comprehend, I reached out to my coaches for help. The coaches complied by providing me with a word of the day, which I utilized as much as possible. As beneficial as the exercise could be, counterintuitively, I would often get so comfortable with the new words that I incorporated them into any sentence and could use them to be humorous. The main takeaway from the exercise stems from the very fact that I sought for more intellect from the others. Often, one perceives reaching others for help as a form of vulnerability and insecurity as reflected from my novice debate experience. However, my process of transformation, challenging me to seek others for help, strengthened my resolve in future endeavors because I will now know to seek other for guidance. One life lesson I acquire from the experience is the assurance that I will never have to feel insecure and incompetent again due to language concerns in any given situation. I acknowledge the inevitable existence of future challenges; however, I now know that I will embrace that challenge through courage instead of fear. Have I solved all of my language concerns in debate? No. My alterations of how I approached debate constitutes a starting point rather than the end point. The nature of learning the language constitutes a life-long continuity of such effort. Thus, I know my learning experience continues today and even into the future.

EVAN HARGRAVE ’18 “LICHTENSTEIN PASTICHE” Oil pastel and ink

Alice falls down the rabbit hole. Milo drives through the tollbooth. Dorothy is swept up in the tornado. Neo takes the red pill. Don’t tell us about another world you’ve imagined, heard about, or created. Rather, tell us about its portal. Sure, some people think of the University of Chicago as a portal to their future, but please choose another portal to write about. -Inspired by Raphael Hallerman, UChicago Class of 2020

JACK SCHWAB ’17

I step into the threshold, and the world turns to jungle. The stoic elephant stares down at me from my right. All around me, a vibrant healthy rainforest green, dashed with reds from parrots and mushrooms. The patter of a near rainfall overwhelms the room, even as it remains invisible. Under the soothing of the rain, I hear a roar. I imagine it’s from the tiger looming viciously from out a bush, but quickly realize it’s just my stomach. Crack! Thunder jumps around me from invisible lightning, augmented by the screech of a staring monkey. I gaze around and see children who have journeyed to this exotic land, with its sounds and sights lost to so-called civilization. But I smell the fried delicacies, the delights of the Western world, within this literal jungle, tucked within the urban jungle. In my homo sapien ears, the familiar crackle of a sparkler in an ice cream sundae sounds more akin to an Applebee’s than the Amazon. The portal’s horrors and temptations knock at my mind, and building the necessary resolve, with hungry steps, I enter the Rainforest Café. The Rainforest Café is built on a central paradox, a restaurant for children that scares them. My family brought me to the Rainforest Café for the first time when I was six. I’m sure they imagined that the moving elephants on the wall, as well as the servers dressed like safari guides, would amuse me, transposing me to another world while I ate a happy plate of chicken fingers. They couldn’t have been more wrong. The screeches of the chimpanzees were not joyful, but, instead, they seemed to me to be screaming furies. With each crack of thunder, I burst to tears, as my family attempted to salvage the evening by reenacting The Lion King and referring to me as Simba. At that point in time, I would’ve loved to abandon them to live out my youth with a warthog and a meerkat in a desert oasis. It took literally years, before I could convince my family to go back, to prove it to myself that I would not be shaken. Eventually, I returned to the Rainforest Café, to its fake elephants and adequate food, and I saw its entrance for the relic it was, a veritable Gate of Ishtar, if Nebuchadnezzar had liked the color green and used plastic. And the cycle continued, when after passing through the door, my younger sister screamed with the same primal fear, which once consumed me. When I read Jean-Paul Sartre and the existentialists, I’m driven to question the nature of freedom. Am I free? Is my sister free? Is the damn chimpanzee screeching at the entrance to the Rainforest Café free, and would it have the freedom to shut up if I took a golf club to it? But with the variety of animals that inhabit it, the Rainforest Café may well be the modern Garden of Eden, the only real difference, of course, being the lack of angels with fiery swords at the entrance and the fact that the only apples they have are probably in pies. But don’t take it from me, its portals are scattered across the states, and you can experience its peculiar journey on the corner of North Clark Street and West Ohio in River North. Just search for the words inscribed on its mantle: A Wild Place To Shop and Eat. Yes, much too wild for me.

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 creative, which you feel best describes you.

MARTIN FLORES ’17

“Martin, I have an idea: do you want to score my film?”

I passively shrugged at my friend Spencer’s request, mostly because of my limited knowledge of film scores. I merely had an affection for the delicate melody that John Williams wrote for the Star Wars saga or those big brass blasts that Hans Zimmer used in Inception. Those pieces, for me, were the epitome of music, the soundtrack of my academic career. I had no orchestra, no formal musicians, nor any experience in the field. I merely had my laptop with Logic Pro X, a music production program that I had received for my birthday. Besides, a high school film crew can easily download royalty-free music and incorporate it appropriately.

Yet, I said yes.

On my free periods during the first semester of my sophomore year, I sat alone in a practice room in the band hall, the white perforated walls being the first to hear my compositions. These were haphazard, basic, and experimental to say the least. I had no idea what the film was about, what tone needed to be set, or how long it was; the movie was in production as I was trying my hand at the niche art form. This trial-and-error led to me forgetting about Williams and Zimmer, for I was to create something that conformed to the movie, free from anyone else’s standards. Weekly meetings with Spencer over my creations blossomed into impromptu writing sessions in the film lab, consisting of Spencer editing film cuts while I worked on making sure every sample was in key or trying out a new instrument in place of another. Now, my music had traveled out of the soundproof practice rooms, transforming into a first draft, a rough translation of the ideas in my brain. My idea for the film resonated with the rest of the crew, an affirmation of my efforts to come down a steep learning curve in such a short time-span. However, the largest affirmation came when I received the award for “Best Original Score” at the inaugural Jesuit Film Festival, an award I wasn’t expecting. While it may be an adage used in conversations on “success,” this process of risk-taking truly was about the journey and not the destination. I wasn’t expecting the award, much less writing a film score in my life. While this hidden talent is not my intended path of study, scoring my first film taught me the valuable lesson of taking risks. Before this experience, my unassuming if not timid personality caused me to turn down opportunities with the slightest chance of failure. But without taking a chance at something risky, I couldn’t grow. Moreover, without my friends and school supporting my endeavor into the unknown, I would have remained guarded and

complacent, an incomplete version of myself. However, the more-preferable version of myself, one where I can take these chances and remain open to growth, I feel awaits me at Georgetown. Just as I grew immeasurably in film scoring, the notion of composing my future at Georgetown excites me beyond words.

You’ve got a ticket in your hand - Where will you go? What will you do? What will happen when you get there?

XANDER WIERSCHEM ’17 I’ve got a ticket, a golden ticket in my hand: this ticket is taking me to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. The industrial-looking pillars of smoke loom over a blue-collar neighborhood with passers-by murmuring about what the concrete palace formally was. A dreary image really, but we are taught from a young age, “It’s what’s on the inside that counts”. That’s the thing, I don’t know what’s on the inside; I just see the cold building: seemingly the last place a kid wants to visit, much less fantasize about traveling to. But the mystery behind it augmented my unending desire to go. This one place controlled the happiness of children all over the world and this one place must have something more to it. It can’t possibly be just a dilapidated communist-looking slab of concrete in the middle of a city. That’s when my imagination runs, giving me images of things I have heard stories about. The chocolate rivers crashing up against the beaches made of sugar stick dust. The chanting of the hardworking Oompa Loompas bouncing off the walls as they maintain the candy fortress. That’s where I want to be. I want to be a ticket-holder, I want to be the one to go inside and see what wonderful chocolate and candy creations this “Mad-Hatter” had concocted. How I want to be Charlie, ripping open my single chocolate bar to find not only the Holy Grail of delicacies, but the one piece of paper that would change my life forever. How I want to be Charlie, unknowingly challenged with candy-related trials to determine my worth. This place is where I want to be. Not only is it this complex building with layers of magic and wonder, but it also takes me back to sitting around a TV. I’ve heard Gene Wilder sing and nearly cried every time Grandpa Joe gets up from his bed more times than I would like to admit. It’s the little trivial memories of scooting up closer to the screen and fighting my brothers for a spot on the floor. Out of everywhere in the world, I would really want to be there singing “Pure Imagination” and sucking on “Everlasting Gobstoppers”.

NICK BUEHLER â&#x20AC;&#x2122;18 (UNTITLED) Water color

Why do you want to attend Sophia University?

GREG TAN ’17

Plastic red dinosaur in hand, the concrete aisles of the Asian supermarket were akin to my five year old self ’s track field, zooming past the clammy gaze of the frozen seafood section and battalions of shelves to finally land in the Japanese snacks aisle. That plastic red Ceratosaurus I’d carry around everywhere as a child was a resident of a primordial ecosystem that existed in my room, on the carpet space between my closet door and bed frame, dreamt up by yours truly. The way ecosystems required a sort of synergy between their residents to promote the growth of life was an idea that captivated me from a young age. Imagining the lives of prehistoric beasts, how they interacted with each other as well as their environments, has always been a favorite pastime of mine and is certainly one of the driving reasons for my wanting to become a paleontologist. Of course, before understanding the primeval lifeforms themselves, one ought to first understand the workings of the ecosystems they inhabited. Between that and how the courses are structured around solving environmental problems we face today, Sophia University’s Green Sciences program appealed to me especially. The program’s dedication to overcoming ecological issues to work towards a better world resonated with me, as someone who takes issues like climate change seriously, partially due to how the fossil record shows how dangerous global warming can be and has been. Another facet of my wishing to attend Sophia University, branching off of our shared interest in protecting Earth, manifests itself in my great affection for the culture of Japan. What had started as my child self being entranced by stories of samurai and ninja matured into an appreciation for the collectivist culture that exists within Japan but more specifically in the Jesuit nature of Sophia, its exemplification of the motto “Men and Women For and With Others”, and the embodiment of St. Francis Xavier’s “affection without pretense” within Japan’s Catholic community. In addition to Sophia’s mission being energized and motivated by working towards the greater glory of God, some of the social elements of Japanese culture at large mirrored my own ideals so clearly that it would have been hard for me not to want to study in Japan. To name one, the Church’s tenet of solidarity, the “global dimensions [of loving our neighbor] in a shrinking world” (www.usccb.org), came to mind during my researching Sophia University’s commitment to the Catholic social teachings, teachings that became a part of my world from the beginning of my time at Jesuit College Prep. Growing up in a Catholic household, attending a Jesuit high school, and spending weekend afternoons in the Asian supermarket all happened to intersect wonderfully for me as I read more and more about Sophia University: the idea that one college could embody so many of my interests stemming from my earlier years as well as my more recent ones fascinated me. Hopefully, the discovery of that toy Ceratosaurus will take me to Tokyo.

What was the environment in which you were raised? Describe your family, home, neighborhood, or community, and explain how it has shaped you as a person.

MATTHEW CLAYTON ’17

I have moved houses seven times in seven years. As I stand in the back of a moving truck and clutch one side of the same long, russet leather couch, my mother points out this fact with a humorous smile. While my brother and I situate the couch in our newly chosen living room, the sweat accumulating on both of our foreheads forces us to wish that this move will be the last. However, at the time, the frail state of our father’s health, and thus his upcoming time spent in a hospital rather than in an office, revealed to us that a cheaper place of residence would be necessary. Nearly every summer vacation allotted to me presented the inevitable prospect of laboriously moving to a new house or apartment. In spite of these hardships, my family’s nomadic lifestyle has enabled me to mature and recognize what is truly important. I have learned that the places we temporarily inhabit and the material possessions we drag around with us are of relatively little importance in comparison with the people whom I engage in this process with. It has been over a year since my brother and I laid the foundations of our living room, and this kind of duration is rare. My father’s health has improved, yet my mother has succumbed to heavy stress due to our inability to pay rent. We have been stranded with only one option: to move to another rent house. This relocation will be unique in comparison with all the others, since it is the only one that will take place during the school year. Whether I’m in my room studying for my upcoming test in Environmental Science, or whether I’m in the office watching Al Jazeera documentaries on the computer, the sounds made audible to my ears reveal to me that I will spend an upcoming weekend piling boxes in an unfamiliar garage. As I watch my father cover a glass object in bubble wrap before placing it in the obscure bottom of a cardboard box, I feel no sentiments in regard to the uprooting of our living room. Rather, I feel joy to simply see my father breathe and show signs of life—after his cardiac arrest a little over a year ago, he had almost lost these capabilities. Even though my family has been deprived of a stable living pattern, the very fact that life exists is a miracle in itself. The totality of our past houses forms vague memories in my mind, but the experiences I have shared with the members of my family constitute unforgettable thoughts. Throughout the constant moving, I have learned that my home environment does not at all depend on the actual physical structure of a house, but rather, on the family members inside of it. As long as I have Ronald, Kristin, Joseph, Catherine, and Caroline, I will feel at home wherever I go.

TIM TIGHE ’18 “CHARCOAL FACE” Charcoal

(The following are Will’s responses to the Short Answer Questions on the Notre Dame Scholarship application.)

WILL ABERGER ’17 Notre Dame is an adventure that will develop more than just your intellect. Blessed Basil Moreau, founder of the Congregation of Holy Cross, believed that to provide a true education “the mind will not be cultivated at the expense of the heart.” What excites you about attending Notre Dame? 35 years ago, my father was accepted by Notre Dame. Unfortunately, however, his family could not afford the university’s tuition due to financial constraints. Just months before his letter of acceptance came in the mail, his mom contracted cancer and his dad unexpectedly suffered a heart attack. With the added burden of medical bills, my father was forced to decline Notre Dame’s offer of admission. He could handle being rejected by the school, but not being able to attend because of money was another thing. He was devastated. It was his dream to attend the school. Now, as I apply to Notre Dame, I remember the plight of my father, who works each day to ensure the same thing doesn’t happen to me, that I can go to any college I want no matter the price. Attending Notre Dame will allow me to fulfill both of our dreams, going to the school we both passionately love.

Home is where your story begins. Tell us about your home and how it has influenced your story. Lying at the foot of the cross rests four simple letters, A.M.D.G., four letters that emphasize aspects of the Catholic faith instilled inside each student at Jesuit Dallas. The motto of the Society of Jesus, Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam (A.M.D.G.) or For the Greater Glory of God underscores that all our actions should seek to glorify God, finding Him in all things and promoting His Glory throughout the world. Every time I see a cross, I am reminded of those four letters stretched across the crosses at Jesuit, reminded of my home, reminded of my responsibility to be a Man for Others, a responsibility my high school emphasizes to all its students. Over the past four years, Jesuit Dallas has not only served as my home but also inspired me to be a selfless servant, working for social justice through community service, looking for even the smallest opportunity to benefit those around me. By serving “Others” for the greater glory of God, I will carry my Catholic faith and Jesuit tradition far beyond the walls of my home.

This is your chance to take a risk. He stood in my exact place twenty years ago. Now he spends his day in a women’s bathroom, washing the feet of homeless people. Instead of writing prescriptions or giving medical advice, Dr. Travis Baggett recognizes that sometimes people just need to be treated with compassion. When I was challenged to write a newspaper article about Baggett, a graduate of my high school, I did not envision how the experience would influence my life. Before I interviewed him, I never truly considered medicine as a career, even though biology and chemistry had always intrigued me. He showed me that being a doctor is about so much more than simply making a diagnosis and administering a treatment. It’s about human emotion and behavior. It’s about caring for people and joining them on their road to recovery. Baggett’s empathy for others inspired me to look at medicine as a way to serve the world, not only improving the health of patients but also providing them the hope and genuine compassion they often so desperately need. This interpersonal side of medicine made me reconsider my life plans as I now hope to answer my call to service by following in Baggett’s footsteps and becoming a doctor.

MACCOY LOPEZ ’18 “BREAKING DOWN MY BARRIERS” Clay sculpture

Tell us a story that helps us better understand a person, place, or thing you find inspiring .

ALEX GARCIA ’17 Early morning on a Saturday, I found myself at Jesuit, helping run a tutoring event for middle school kids. Staring down a quiet, empty hallway frustrated me: why was I here? Ushering kids to classrooms, followed by helping them with basic math filled up the morning. I was counting down the minutes. Throat parched, I journeyed down the hall to the water fountain. I was met by an elderly man, probably in his eighty’s, dressed in black pants and wearing a tan sweater that covered his white collar. He inquisitively asked me, “Hey! What are you doing here? You know you’re not supposed to be in school.” We both chuckled before I responded that we were helping tutor kids. His face warmed; he gave me a smile. “You know the work you guys do is incredible. Thank you for helping those kids,” he responded. After a small chat, I walked off with a smile, grateful, for his kindness and sincerity was endearing, but confused. I had never seen him before. A few weeks later, the school remembered a man, who had passed, Father John Edwards, S.J. None of us had heard of him. They displayed an image on the projector, and there he was, the man I had talked to that Saturday. Still, my friends had no clue, but I knew. Sadness overcame me when I looked into his eyes. He did not know me, nor did I know him, but his benevolence and tenderness will never escape me.

DANIEL VAN AMERONGEN â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;18 (UNTITLED) Acrylic on canvas

BACK COVER BY TIM TIGHE â&#x20AC;&#x2122;18