Indescribable.

I can't even begin to describe this past year and the year before. But I can still try. Actually, I'm going to let Rupyard Kipling do all the work. 

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

Over these past two years, I, and my fellow IBers, have had to stick it out, through thick and thin, through mental massacres and stress strokes, and keep our heads. All around us everyone said: "Get over it. You chose to do IB, so you have to deal with the consequences." And yet we made, we did it, we kept our heads even when the people perhaps the closest to us would not stop to lend us a helping hand, and blamed our suffering on us. 

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,

We all have dreams. We all have aspirations. I aspire to one day work in international trade, dabbling in economics, politics, language, and travel. But that does not come without hard work--dreamin' alone won't get us to where we need to be. IB taught us to work hard for what we learned. And to really learn it--not just memorize for the test next week. And we all know IB made us thinkers! But even better--we took thinking to the next level. Our aim was to act, not just to think. We are more than just thinkers. 

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.

For every IA we turned in, for every IOC, for every lab report, and for every exam, we must rejoice in the final Triumph, yet also rejoice in the amount of work it took to get there. We should be just as proud of the struggle and Disaster we endured as we are of the final product we turned in. 

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

There were times where it seemed like our lives were flashing, falling before our eyes. One thing after another was ruined and the repercussions seemed insurmountable. And yet, with our worn-out work ethics and massacred motivation, we were always able to bring it back together. We persevered, and it will pay off. 

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:

How many times have we all worked so hard for something that fell through? I bet the answer to that question is a lot. But it is never the final project that holds all the value: value lies within the journey, within the steps you took to get to the end, within the lessons you learned along the way. So never breathe a word about your loss 'cause odds are you haven't lost anything, but you have gained everything. 

And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

Sometimes we have nothing left to hold on with, but we hold on anyway--through sheer force of will. Those 3 am homework binges? Sheer force of will. Pure, unadulterated perseverance. 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

People have asked me before how I became good at public speaking. At first, I had to seriously consider the question. It's no natural talent, it might be in part because of DECA but not really, and it wasn't having a job. It was IB. Although, it's not because IB forced me to give speeches. It's because IB forced me to understand what I was saying and have confidence in the validity and academia behind my words. IB taught me how to be assured in what I was saying and in what I know (even though as TOK taught us-- that is nothing at all). 

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

A minute is more than just one. It is actually sixty whole seconds. A day is more than just one. It is twenty-four hours. There's so much more you can do with sixty and twenty-four than you can do with one. So, don't waste time. Take risks and seize the day. 

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

IB has given me more than I have ever imagined: opportunities. It has given me an education that has prepared me to be able to take these opportunities and make the most of them in the years to come. Mine is the Earth, now I'm ready to see it, to experience it, to learn it, and to understand it. 

It is more than just a piece of paper. It is more than just the diploma. It was absurdly challenging. I was forced to rise to the occasion. It was incredibly demanding. I was called to make time. It was a risk. Who I am now was worth it. 

Who knew I would grow to love IB? 

The Disembodied Thoughts of a Profound, Poetic Thinker

Step 1: While exploring Walt Whitman's journals, one thing is clearly evident: Whitman's scattered thoughts and rushed scrawling embody Mrs. G's catch phrase "to jot down a few thoughts." His scribble comes across as profound yet muddled, intelligible thoughts written in an unintelligible form. This shows that Whitman would catch glimpses of world-understanding, of philosophical realizations, and quickly pencil them in before the thought fled. Often times his scrawl would rhythmically resemble poetry, but mostly they would resemble sentence fragments. Also, towards the end of the text, Whitman scribbled pictures of who I would guess to be himself, Abraham Lincoln, and George Washington. One drawing of Lincoln appeared dark, with Lincoln's face in a shadow, which commonly symbolizes evil. The image of George Washington looks like he is stuck through the heart with a sword. Both images suggest that Whitman's mind has reached a dark state, that these revered men must have done something that, to Whitman, damaged their image.

For example, in his journals, Whitman rambles on about a ship. In several different contexts he mentions a "ship of liberty," a "ship of the world,"a "ship of humanity," a "ship of promise," and a "ship of the ages." He uses this ship metaphor in order to explore one particular aspect of life: trials and tribulations. He says later, "welcome the storm, welcome the trial, let the waves... why now I shall see what the old ship is made of... anybody can sail with a fair wind, a smooth sea... watch them tremble and turn pale, let them... I welcome this menace, I welcome this with joy." The rough waters and trembling waves he describes symbolize life's trials and hardships, and the ship represents people and their resilience and strength when thrown into life's sea storm. This extended metaphor tells us that Whitman faced many trials, eagerly, in his own life and could recognize their value.

Step 2: What I originally believed to "liberty," actually turned out to be "libertad." The description notes this word, as it is the Spanish word for liberty, and ponders the purpose behind this language change. Why did Whitman use the Spanish word for liberty here, and why did he use Spanish words in many of his other English poems? I wonder if it has something to do with the pronunciation or the flow of the poetry. Of course, it could also be used to reach a different target audience, Spanish-American readers, or it could also have a slightly different, untranslatable connotation in Spanish that Whitman thought was more accurate.

Also, though I did not mention this line in my initial investigation, The New York Times interestingly points out one phrase at the end of one page that says, in reference to the "ship of liberty," "I shall see the crash." They said that Whitman added the word "perhaps" to his musing in order to give the reader hope, and to not give the impression that the looming cataclysm is not inevitable. I find this fascinating--Whitman has no desire to look upon the world with pessimism and has no need to be blatantly negative with his audience.

Also, The New York Times helpfully connects the line "anybody can sail with a fair wind, a smooth sea" to Whitman's imaginary dialogue with Lincoln. He hints at Lincoln's upcoming challenges surrounding the civil war, and ponders the fact that Lincoln will face harrowing hardships never before experienced by his presidential predecessors. He also refers to the disheartening fate of the United (rather the not-so-united) States when he describes "black clouds, clouds of death."

Finally, The New York Times informs us that the drawings in the back of the notebook are almost surely not by Whitman. Folsam says, "He was known to pull out his notebooks and jot things down and pass them around." I find that fascinating! It tells me that he understands one of my favorite anonymous aphorisms: Nobody ever learned anything by listening to the sound of their own voice. This seemingly small comment, to me, is a testament to Whitman's character and appreciation for the things his peers may have known that he could have learned simply by sharing his notebook. That's awesome! Besides that, my guess as to what the drawings were was completely off. All of the men represented Whitman, except the last one. In the last one, a figure of a man being impaled between night day symbolized the state of limbo our nation found herself in throughout the Civil War.