GHP. What a magical four weeks of my life. Why was it magical though?
GHP, the governor’s honors program, a four-week summer camp funded by the state for “the best and brightest” of Georgia seems to be a common goal for all eligible. For me, it was a daunting aspiration, practically impossible. As a science major hopeful, I knew I wasn’t as qualified as others. While some of the applicants had competed at all sorts of science competitions, won science fairs, and taken every science class imaginable, I only had a few science Olympiad successes and took one AP science class. Some of what I did outside of science (FBLA, dance, violin, etc.) was applicable when the interviewer asked about responsibility, but other than that, my merits seemed too sparse to land me a spot in Georgia’s most prestigious camp.
In fact, I had only one thing going for me. I really connected with my interviewers and showed them how much passion I had for science and how much I wanted to attend GHP. This mixed expectation made me so uncertain. If I had completely “failed” the interviews, I would know I wouldn’t have much of a chance. But, if I was extremely qualified, I probably wouldn’t have to worry much about it. The problem for me was I knew I wasn’t the most qualified, but had a great interview (my interviewer as I was leaving said I was “my energy and passion was a bright spot in her day”) so I kept going between: “I think I got in” and “there’s no way” the month and half wait.
I still remember the day I knew I got in. It was March 25, and I was in New York with my school orchestra, because we were selected to perform at Carnegie Hall. That day was a Friday, our last full day in NYC and the day of our Carnegie Hall performance. Not surprisingly, nerves and excitement were already running high. So, I at least was able to breathe a sigh of relief, then feel a burst of joy and excitement when I read that congratulatory email.
Fast forward almost three months to June 19, move in day for GHP. I was so excited. I’d worked so hard to get in and wanted to experience GHP so much. The stress of interviews, the laboring of the applications, and the uncertainty of getting in all added to my anticipation.
That first day in Valdosta (where GHP was held), was hot. I’d been warned about the Valdosta weather, the random storms that seemed to reach hurricane level precipitation and scorching high temperatures, but I wasn’t really prepared-even then- for the heat. All my dreams and high hopes for GHP seemed to start to melt away into a puddle of disappointment. However, after all the work I put into coming, I didn’t want my entire experience ruined due to something as trivial as the weather. So I set about meeting the people I’d spend four weeks with. I met my roommate, who was a dance major. I met my RA, who designed our hall with a Harry Potter theme (that in itself was enough to make me happy for four weeks). I met random GHP students in palms, the dining hall, my fellow science majors, my hall mates, the other RAs, my teachers, the “administrators”, alumni…the list goes on and on. I probably met and talked to more people that first day of GHP than any other day in my life.
A day went by, then a week, then four. Every day at GHP was special and precious. I learned fascinating science in the morning. I ate lunch with my friends at lunch. I sang with my vocal minor class in the afternoon. At night, I went to seminars, caught up on work, or just hung out with friends.
Yet, if you’d ask me why I loved GHP while I was there, I don’t think I’d have an answer. Now, almost two months later, I think I finally know why. The freedom I experienced there was unlike that anywhere else. I had the freedom to be where I wanted, when I wanted. I could walk to the library after class to do some research or walk to the fine arts building to practice my violin. I could walk to the Student Union to buy Chick-fil-A and Starbucks or to Palms to eat lunch with my friends. I could stroll on West Lawn or relax in my room. For a fifteen/sixteen-year old (I had my sweet sixteen at GHP) that couldn’t drive, that freedom was exhilarating. Yet there was another freedom too, one I didn’t even know I yearned for; the freedom to be myself. GHP was my first real experience with a group of people that didn’t judge you for your opinions or for being yourself. At GHP I could voice my opinions without worrying that I’d be shunned for them, discussions were encouraged (instead of “roasting”), and every personality valued. I didn’t have to wonder if I belonged, because everyone made sure that I did. I could walk up to anyone and start a conversation. No one just tolerated you, they fully accepted the way you were, your quirks, craziness, and everything in-between.
GHP was my first real taste of freedom, the exhilaratingly wonderful nature of it. Now I realize how much I crave it, how much I crave being my own person and marching to the beat of my own drum. I realized how little others expectations of your life mean, how much your own expectations matter. And, through the complaining of how hot VSU was, the meaningful friendships made, bonding over the delicious palms cookies and the disgusting palms food, and the laughter and great times I found the magic in the magic square.
But, maybe more importantly, I started to find myself.
