How I got Caught

The University of Chicago is known for its creative essay prompts on their `uncommon` application. This year, one of them was "How did you get caught (or not caught as the case may be.)" I`ve been fretting over this essay for a while, because I really really really want to go to the University of Chicago.
Finally I came up with this. It`s about my exchange (obviously), about the moment that I fully came to the realization of where I was and what my life had become.
Enjoy. (And comment? :)


" I’m not sure why I thought I might be exempt. I watched and listened carefully for everyone else to take their turn, but cast not a single thought on what I might say. Everyone spoke of the grand memories they had shared in their many years at school. They spoke of the sadness they were feeling at the prospect of losing their friends for an entire year. They spoke of love and togetherness.
Finally, there were only four people left- the two this whole thing was put on for, the one everybody knew would go last, and me.
I was caught.
It was my turn. Nothing had to be said.
I walked slowly and carefully to the front of the room, brain working overtime trying to think of what to say, and then, to translate it to Spanish. I took a long pause to look into the two pairs of eyes staring most intently from the middle of the front row. On my left were Daniela’s welcoming features which had so often patiently explained things to me. On my right was the more determined face of Carla, the girl I had considered my sister for the last three weeks. Both had tears glistening on their flushed faces.
I looked around at all the other girls in the room. All twenty-six girls had shed at least one tear in past twenty minutes. That was my inspiration.
I had been part of this wonderful class for two weeks. I could talk about how much I would miss my sister and my friend. I could talk about how the class would not be the same without them. But I didn't know that. I knew they were wonderful students and friends and sisters, but I didn't know enough to state how different class would be without them. I would miss them, but not in the same way their life long friends would.
But I did know something of what lay in their future. I knew what it was like to leave all my friends and family for a year. I knew what it was like to walk around lost in the airport for an hour, wearing a bulky and elaborately decorated Rotary Youth Exchange Blazer. I knew what it was like to say goodbye.
“Nunca hay palabras suficiente para decir adios," I stamered, not worrying about my bad pronounciation or grammar, only hoping that my message came out loud and clear. There are never sufficient words to say goodbye. A long pause followed,
“Pero esta es el comienzo de una gran aventura," I continued shakily. I reminded them of the hope, of the reason they choose this path, even though it would be so hard at times like these. This is the start of a great adventure.
There is so much more I could have said. I would have liked to have quoted a famous author. I would have liked to thank them for all their help. I would have liked to say something witty and sensitive about the wonderful friends they would make during their exchange and how hard it would be to leave them.
But none of these words came to my lips.
What did come were tears. Lots of tears. And, mere seconds after that, a warm, supportive, loving embrace, which I was caught in and never wanted to end.
But it did end. Pepa needed her turn.
"Buena suerte," I whispered before taking my seat again. Good luck.
Pepa walked slowly up to the front, meeting my eyes as we crossed paths. She faced the crowd with determination, her eyes more red than most. She had to say goodbye to her two best friends. It is a surprise she doesn’t hate Rotary Youth Exchange for taking away three of the closest people in her life for an entire year, for her older sister is also leaving in two days time. She can manage to see the good in the situation on behalf of her friends. She even plans on leaving next year.
Pepa’s message was perfect. It was full of memories and hopes, of understanding and support, of tears and joy. Anyone who had managed to compose themselves wound up disheveled once again. But nobody cared, realizing it as one of the advantages of an all girls school. We were all brimming over with emotion, and nobody tried to hide it. Our tears were full of sorrow, but equally full of hope and of love.
Carla and Daniela did not let Pepa finish her speech. The need for physical proximity was too great. The second she started stumbling over the actually deed of saying "goodbye," they were by her side. The Hug started with a core of three lifelong friends. Within seconds, The Hug included the other twenty-four classmates many of whom had also grown up together. And The Hug included me- the still slightly awkward exchange student. We were all crying and laughing and sharing and loving and never wanting to let go.
And now, I know that it will never really end.

Pepa never finished her speech because of that Hug. She never needed to. Everybody understood her unfinished sentences in their own way.
If I were to finish, I would say this.
“The girls in the class have such an amazing friendship, and I am so glad to be caught up in it too.” "


Also, I´m leaving for Arequipa in about an hour. I`ll be back in a week (with a monton de stories, I`m sure.