New Year, New Decade

January 2020

 As a decade has wrapped up and a new one is commencing, we asked our writers to reflect on how they’ve changed and grown throughout the past ten years.

Age of reason

Emmy Jansen
MSMU Class of 2023

Ten years ago, I was eight years old and was halfway through the third grade. I had just started at a new elementary school and was in a class with a teacher who taught two of my older siblings. My mom worked at the front desk in the office and my sister was in a kindergarten class down the hall. What I remember most about that school was the bus ride. We were bussed to a different school than the one we should’ve gone to because I was in an academic program. That meant my little sister and I caught the bus out in the rural part of the county and drove up and down the old country roads until we got into the new, fancy neighborhood the school had been built in.

I was thankful for the long bus ride in because it took me on a tour of the place I’d always called home. Before coming to college, I’d only ever lived in one place. Driving the mountain roads here in Maryland, I find the similarities and the differences between where I’m from and where I’ve come to be. There’s a simplicity in the nostalgia of it and comfort in the known. But there’s also something enjoyable about making your own path. Even though I was the fourth of five kids, I was the first to go away. Everyone still lives in or around the town we’re from, except for me. I find myself with two homes and finding home in every place I go. The small country stores around Emmitsburg mimic those I used to pass on my way to elementary school. Frederick has flecks of the suburban village that was a staple of my high school years. But it is all new and while it’s familiar, it isn’t the same. It’s like getting into an accident and waking up with amnesia; I’m learning everything again for the first time. I’ve spent a lot more time thinking about the past. What were my parents like in their college years? What did my older siblings do with this new freedom? What happened in our lives to get us to these points?

If you had told me ten years ago that I’d be going to a small Catholic university in the mountains of Maryland, I don’t think I would’ve believed you. If you had told me that fact a year ago, I definitely wouldn’t have believed you. When I was eight, I wanted to be a lawyer. I don’t think I knew what a lawyer was, but I remember seeing the law firm commercials when I was watching Disney reruns and wanting to wear a nice suit and carry a briefcase.

For most of my life, I wanted to be a teacher. Towards the end of elementary school and all through middle school, that’s what I told everyone I was going to be. I would be a high school English teacher, or maybe history. I loved school, learning, and reading. I wear glasses today because I would stay up late at night reading books with the lights off, because my curiosity never stopped even when my mom told me to. I wrote, a lot. I carried a notebook with me everywhere I went, jotting down random notes and thoughts to be expanded upon later. I still do.

But freshman year came and went and so did my love for teaching. For the rest of high school, I bounced between ideas and none of them seemed to stick. Psychology made me happy for awhile until I learned I wasn’t good at science and I didn’t like it that much either. Business made sense until it didn’t, same with political science. As I write this having finished my first semester of college, I’m not sure if the answer to the question, "What do you want to do?" has gotten easier or harder.

Am I making eight-year-old me proud? I know I’ve disappointed her in one way; she thought she’d have at least two books published before graduating high school. Despite my failing, I think eight-year-old me would be happy to see who she became today and look forward to the future she has to grow into.

Eight-year-old me didn’t have much to worry about. I had homework, but I enjoyed it. Home was a nice place to be and playing with my siblings was probably the highlight of the day. I remember the room I shared with my little sister, how our toys would take over the room at times before we’d scramble to put them all away before bed. Things were fun, things were easy. But if I had the choice to go back to being eight, I’d never take it. No matter how hard things get in the present, it’s where I’m meant to be. I wouldn’t want to go back to being eight or fifteen or any age. I earned being eighteen.

When I started college, I was sent off with these words from my mom. "High school is the best four years of your life, but college is the fastest four years." She might be right, and she usually is, but I don’t want her to be. Yes, the five months I’ve been in college have been a whirlwind and it’s hard to believe it’s already over. But I refuse to let the four years I have behind me be the best I’ll ever have. The best years of your life should be the ones you’re living right now. I want them to continuously get better until they stop altogether. Reflecting on the past is healthy but I want to turn my gaze forward, into the life I have to look forward to. I didn’t know what the last ten years held for me and I don’t know what the next ten will have. Where will I be in 2030? Hopefully, I’ll have graduated college and work a steady job- doing what, I have no idea. Maybe I’ll be a mom, maybe I won’t be. That is the joy of living, never knowing what’s coming next and getting to find out. People will come in and out of our lives and time will march on. But it’s not about the minutes or the years that pass us by but what it is we do to fill them that really matters.

Read other articles by Emmy Jansen

Change and a hope

Harry Scherer
Class of 2022

"Everyone one thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself." So wrote Leo Tolstoy in 1900. A talented wordsmith, he hid an exhortation within his observation and called upon the travelers who sought to venture into the new century to consider that which makes their interior weak before challenging their already feeble exterior to reform that which they thought made the world weak.

There seems to be an air of reflection as we come to the culmination of one year and the expected inception of a new decade. One hundred years ago, the people of 1919 anticipated family reunions after the conclusion of the first World War, unknowingly prepared for thirteen more years of constitutionally sanctioned prohibition and primed their record players for a decade of hot jazz. It goes without saying that our contemporary understanding of the nature of basic necessities, luxury and entertainment significantly varies from that of our ancestors from whom we are separate by a whole century.

Considering the amount of visible change that has occurred on a societal level in the past century, it is difficult for me to even approach an understanding of the change that has occurred within and without myself in the past decade. If I am having difficulty coming to an interior understanding, then imagine the difficulty that would arise in having to verbalize these confusions in the written word. Even if I could lucidly define and enumerate these personal alterations, I am not sure that I would be comfortable in doing so. One of the characteristics of the modern era, evidenced most clearly in my generation and our addictive use of social media, is the tendency to overshare and be particularly vulnerable without taking the concern to censor that which we say and the people to whom we say it. Some in the older generation might suggest that this cultural tendency is not a unique state of things and is indicative of the ignorance of youth. This may be the case. Nevertheless, it seems that the tendency to overshare should be checked lest we risk harming the legitimacy of our individual experiences and the unique promptings of the heart which we experience every day.

In addition, I bear a subtle hesitation with oversharing changes that have been noticed by means of introspection. While appropriate introspection has been previously observed in this column as a positive thing, it should still be recognized that too frequently engaging in the activity could be detrimental. I have been more regularly considering the dangerous effects of this frequent introspection as an effect of the modern tendency to bring all broadly human realities into the academic sphere. Because academic life is appropriately fueled by observation and a greater proportion of the population is being exposed to the academy, the inclination to break down the limits of academic inquiry into the sphere of personal experience seems to have become apparent in our generation. Instead of living life in the present moment, we spend more time psychoanalyzing ourselves and trying to understand the deeper reasons why we act in certain ways as if we are observing the activity of neurons in a science experiment when we think.

With these two hesitations in mind, it would still be appropriate to consider the noticeable changes that have taken place within me in the past ten years by means of the grace of interior motivation or the grace of environment. In other words, the only way that I can justifiably attribute the changes that I have made in the past ten years is through an understanding that they were and are rooted in the will of Divine Providence. In my mind, to deny this fact would be to deny the Incarnation, the mystery which holds that God became man so that man might become more like Him. Through His humility in the stable, His humiliation on the Cross and His glory in the Resurrection, we can see with utter clarity through the eyes of faith that God became man so that we "may have life and may have it more abundantly" (John 10:10).

In general, the change that has taken place the most in the past ten years is the hope that I might see that life Our Lord was referring to in the Gospel in everything. To be clear, the change has been a hope. Everything else is superficial and not worth the ink on this paper.

The Church Fathers say that hope is a "movement of the appetite towards a future good, which though hard to attain is possible of attainment." I cannot point my finger on a specific date or time, but, at some point, I started to think about my life and how I relate with others through the lens of what could possibly be attained, while difficult to attain. I can say with utter certainty that I have been unsuccessful in consistently living through this paradigm. However, it seems to be an ideal which is possible, a hopeful statement in itself.

I have not even lived for twenty years, so all of these thoughts and aspirations could be appropriate for dismissal. I do consider it a challenge, however, in the event that this is a suitable way to look at life. It is surely daunting to consider that everything I think, say and do in this life is a response to what has been asked of me since the time preceding my conception. To whom shall I go and from whom shall I seek guidance? To be sure, my guide is the Lord and those who follow Him. For the next decade and for every decade after that, if Our Lord wants me here that long, my ultimate hope is that I can hear the words which He spoke to Zacheus and be at peace: "Zacheus, make haste and come down; for this day I must abide in thy house" (Luke 19:5).

May you continue to enjoy the blessings of a merry Christmas season and happy New Year!

Read other articles by Harry Scherer

Decades to come

Angela Guiao
MSMU Class of 2021

If you asked 11-year-old me what I would be doing in ten years, I bet you little me would not imagine her life to be the way it is now. So much has happened in a decade. Ten years ago, it was 2009, and I had just graduated from 5th grade. I was transitioning into middle school, with newfound freedom, choices, and opportunities. I was excited. Looking back on it now, I realize how silly I was. I was so eager to grow up; so anxious to become independent. If only I understood how easy life was, and how much harder it was going to be.

I was thrown into a life filled with 50-minute classes, separated by class bells, and allowed the freedom of switching rooms without being accompanied by our teacher or standing in a straight line. I could sit anywhere in the lunchroom, not only with my class, and I had to change clothes for gym.

A year later I would be sent off to Catholic school in D.C., after an incident involving me being stabbed with a pencil. And here I learned not only the importance of academic excellence, but also the significance of proper manners and behavior. I learned to address my teachers as Sir or Ma’am, to open the door for the people behind me, and to value people with respect and kindness. I was introduced to a devout life, where there was mass every Tuesday, and prayers before each class. I particularly enjoyed that school. And I credit it as the place that shaped me into the person I am today.

After that, I returned to Maryland for high school. And here I found lifelong friends and a passion for tennis and fashion. I was challenged for the first time here. I met a teacher that made me question my love for writing. And for the first time I had to overcome. I learned how to face failure, and how to improve myself despite the odds. I grew a lot in high school. It was here that I recognized that I was not always going to be the best, and that despite this I was still good enough.

And after four long years, I found myself at the Mount. I would have never imagined that I would have taken a year off in college, but I did. And after more than a decade of focusing on a career path to be a surgeon, I am here, in my third year, studying Accounting and absolutely loving it. It was here at the Mount that I learned to listen. I learned to listen to myself, to take the time to fully comprehend what I wanted to do, not do only what was expected of me. It was here that I took a risk, I decided to put myself first. It was here that I gained hope, that I began to hope and believe in a future where I would be happy. Here at the Mount, I became a version of myself that I am proud of, that I hope my mother is proud of, that I hope my future kids will be proud of.

A decade has passed, and I learned that nothing ever goes to plan. I spent so much time focusing on one goal. I made decisions (which school to attend, classes to take) to prepare myself for this future that I was not sure would manifest in the end. I missed opportunities to enjoy, to have fun, to act my age, because I was so concentrated on reaching a goal, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to reach.

As I look back now, I would tell little me to stop planning. I would tell her that the secret to a good life is enjoying the moment and the people around you. I would tell her not to get too hung up on the failures or the missed opportunities; that obsessing over a bad outcome would only cause her to miss out on a better part of life.

I would tell her to stop fighting with her mom because her mom is only thinking of what is best for her, and that one day she would meet someone who wished they had a mom like hers.

I would tell her to stop wondering if she made the right choice. That second guessing was nothing but a waste of time. That she was exactly where she was supposed to be, and instead of overthinking, enjoy whatever life throws at her.

And most importantly, I would tell her to appreciate and be happy because over the last ten years, that is the most important lesson I learned. I realized how much energy I wasted wishing for a different outcome, wishing for satisfaction in things I didn’t enjoy, and wishing for something more or what others had. I realized how much time I spent looking at everyone and everything else, without realizing the beauty of the things in front of me.

I have been so focused on becoming better and getting to where I want to go, I forgot that the real significance is not in the destination, but rather is in the journey.

As I look back on the last ten years, I don’t remember my aspirations for the future, but rather the experiences of my past. I remember the people who I have lost or no longer talk to, the places I once visited. I remember the memories, the laughter, the feeling of excitement at discovering new passions and interests. I remember the moments where I failed, and the days it was hard to pick myself back up.

I look back at the past decade, and I don’t wonder what I will be doing a decade from now. Instead, I smile and thank God for allowing me the opportunity to experience everything that I have experienced. I thank God for the growth, the opportunities, the love, and the memories, and I ask that he continue to allow me to enjoy my journey for decades to come.

Read other articles by Angela Guiao

Striving for independence

Morgan Rooney
MSMU Class of 2020

As this decade is coming to an end, I’ve been asking myself where the time has gone. Although I am still young, I’ve come to the realization that time goes slow during the difficult times, and quickly when we’re enjoying ourselves and having fun.

Ten years ago, I was very eager to grow up. There were certain attachments I had to my youth, but overall, I was excited to become an adult. I wanted to be in control of my own life instead of being told that I was too young to do things. My independent nature got the best of me fairly often and sometimes I wish I had a different approach to life. It was only earlier this year that I turned 21. I saw this as the last big age milestone where I would no longer be told I was too young. Indeed, it still feels like that’s the case but I wonder if I would have enjoyed myself more if I had a different attitude towards those restrictions.

Other than just age restrictions, I had many other reasons for my enthusiasm to reach adulthood. Part of this is because I wanted to prove to everyone that I could become successful once I started creating my own path. Now I realize that the only person I’m trying to prove anything to is myself.

When I was a sophomore at the Mount, I remember writing an audio essay for a writing class I decided to take. This essay applies to the idea of me growing up very well. I wrote about the reasoning I had for flying across the country from Texas to Maryland for my higher education. To summarize it all up, I wrote about how my entire life, I never felt very independent. I felt like everything I did, someone was always with me. Whether this be my parents, my sister, or my close childhood friends, everything I did wasn’t an experience I had for myself. When I grow old one day and I tell stories about my life, I want there to be unique parts of my stories that no one else has ever experience in the same way. I want my life story to be a collection of thousands of unique stories coming together. I felt like the first step into creating an independent life was to be independent in a literal sense. I’m still not sure if it was the best possible decision I could have made, both in a financial sense and in a personal sense. Either way, I got to where I am now and there’s no possible way to turn back. There is no sense in dwelling in the past when there is a beautiful future to create in the present.

A decade ago, I had just began middle school. This meant that I began trying new things that I had never done before. I only stuck with certain activities but each and everything I did molded me into the person I am now, both inside and out. When I was eleven years old, I began playing the viola in school. I joined the Beginner Orchestra and performed in concerts throughout the year to friends and family. I’m so glad that this opportunity was given to me as I have learned a lot from it and have enjoyed every moment of playing by myself and amongst other people. It was the first time I ever felt like anyone had a reason to be proud of me. I still play to this day and I will continue to play throughout my adult life.

My introverted nature is something I thought that I would be able to take with me throughout my adult life and into my career. I wouldn’t say that’s entirely false but being a shy eleven-year-old and being an introverted adult are two different things. In a sense, being introverted had been an advantage throughout my life. I am quiet, reserved, and often feel like that is the sensible way to be in certain situations. Introversion, however, has held me back in other ways. In my senior seminar class, one topic that was always drilled into my head was the need to "expand my network." I wish things like this came more natural to me and it’s taken me a while to become more comfortable with this. Something I’ve learned throughout the past ten years is that success is all about leaving your comfort zone. No one ever became successful by staying in their own personal bubble. To move forward, one must commit to change, even when they don’t want to.

I still have the same optimism that I had ten years ago, but it would be a lie to say that I was optimistic throughout the entire ten-year stretch. I have never known exactly what the next stage of my life was going to be. This keeps life exciting but adds a hint of anxiety that pushes me to try harder. In middle school, I was eager to reach high school and get my driver’s license to expand my independence. When I was in high school, I was eager to graduate and go away to college to expand my independence. Now that I am approaching the end of my four years in college, I am looking forward to beginning my professional life and start my career. Part of me will always have the need for independence and look forward to the future. I’ve learned that there’s nothing wrong with this as long as I don’t forget to live in the moment.

Instead of saying that my personality has changed throughout the decade, I will say that it has developed and matured. I still carry many of the traits I had when I was eleven, whether they are good or bad. Regardless of becoming an adult, I know that I was always be that same introverted, optimistic girl striving for independence and success.

Read other articles by Morgan Rooney

Read Past Editions of Four Years at the Mount