Personal Narrative: Wahlert

Good Essays
As I write this, I’m sitting in the air conditioned 20 by 30 foot Campus Ministry room. It makes me feel nostalgic to think that it was just last year I was sitting in a room by the same name with strikingly different characteristics: cramped, muggy, hazy yellow lighting. Since my freshman year the entire building has slowly evolved from the latter to the former. Now as a senior, the renovations are over halfway completed, and it makes me feel funny to think that in the near future the Wahlert of my freshman year will be long forgotten in both appearance and culture. As graduation gets closer, however, I have realized that my frustration toward the internal changes of Wahlert do nothing but overshadow the good memories I have of Wahlert.…show more content…
Sophomore year, I learned more about hard work than ever in my life so far. I doubled up in science, I was constantly bogged down by copious English assignments, and my basketball coach pushed me further than anyone had ever before. I made a lot of bittersweet memories in the hot, musty OAC that winter during those practices. Junior year was an absolute blur. I made an effort to engage in my friendships and learn more about the people around me. I took chances and did things that I never would have done before. I went on two retreats that greatly impacted my life as I know it and a service trip that I will remember for the rest of my life. I, by the grace of God, had the privilege of meeting someone, at one time a complete stranger, who has since become one of my best…show more content…
This year I have spent time with people in places that I never would have imagined myself to be freshman year. I’ve been in the stressful, sweaty changing rooms of the show choir competitions; the talkative, talent-filled stage at the Grand Opera House; and I’m quite familiar with the quiet, reverence of the Wahlert chapel. I’ve screamed my lungs out in the stands of Colbert-Delany, laughed my butt off in cafeteria conversations with my friends, and I’ve cried during late night conversations with unexpected friends in the Wahlert parking
Get Access