Jordan+L’s+Final+AmEx+2013+Speech

=Title of Speech=

The Middle School Phenomenon
=Text of Speech=

My brother created his speech a few days before I began creating the one before me now. He pondered that America’s people needed to be less outgoing, to appreciate silence and solitude more. I stand here now to oppose his claim. I’m not here to introduce, but rather to recognize what I call the Middle School Phenomenon.

Solitude is a priceless aspect of life, of my life. Only when all other voices fall silent can the voice of the mind be best amplified. Existentialism, wonder, decision. All of these realms are treaded on by the solitary soul. We've all taken the walk before; Accompanying a slow wind on a journey set to the music playing in the mind, skipping a rock while asking a phantom audience endless questions that all start with the same phrase: “Why?” This, though, should not be the life of the being. I do look before an America that scorns the fellow, that exalts connection while simultaneously burning the bridge to it.

I remember preschool, kindergarten, summer camp, elementary school. These worlds shared the door of acceptance. It was back then that an approach by another made close companions, not false friends. A conversation lay dormant, unborn, in the eyes of all. What was the foundation of this haven? Was this the rare beginning in which all felt the Earth beneath our feet, and did not yet step on others to be closer to the stars above? However I try to justify this reality, it was an existence, for a time. But it ended.

I like to consider High School, as well as the future, like this. We’re above judgments, for the most part. A part of elementary school still lives on in us. But it doesn’t live alone.

Middle School. That’s where I've traced the root of the change. I don’t know what causes it, what breeds it. All I’m sure of is that it’s a much colder world than the one I had known before.

I remember the picture well. The one that entered Anacapa, knowing absolutely no one. Short, shy, and slouched, feinting a large appearance by the myriad of “luggage” that accompanied me: A large, monstrosity of a roller-backpack in one hand, and a trumpet case, complete with instrument, valve oil, music book, spare mouthpiece, multiple cleaners, and God-knows what, anchoring down the other hand. Still though, I hold that it must’ve been something more.

The gears of Middle School powered a wretched system. I saw individuals, pushed into the cruel design of wronging others to gain face for the group considering them. It was as if they were swept away by stormy seas, forced to push the other’s head below water in the desperation of trying to keep their own head above the surface. I had been at both ends of this. A group who I’d began to make friends with started pushing me to do things I alone would never do. I’d not let any seaward squall crush me into a cog for a machine I could not stand, so I left them. However, after this, it seemed as though I had forgotten the ability to be compassionate. Left at the mercy of the lower end of the malicious machine, I fell victim to both judgments from others and the defense mechanisms of myself; I shut down. My gaze fell to the floor for many days, and I cast away fellow man from my thoughts and heart. I saw a heartbreaking amount of others as well give themselves to despair, and it was no experience I’d want to relive, for I, there, had lost my faith in humanity.

Then, on the last day of school, someone talked to me. To me, a miracle. Suddenly, right before my mind’s eye, that blessed essence which had inhabited my species before the specter of middle school descended arose again, and conquered death. The conversation was real. It wasn’t the one-sided pity-talk given to the outcast by the socially well-to-do, but it meant a great deal to me in that it restored my faith in humanity. From that day on, the barrier that obscured every glance, muffled every voice, and deluded every person began to wane. Has it by now completely eroded away, leaving me once again vulnerable yet available to the outside world? As for myself, I cannot say, but my concerns against the workings of the Middle School Phenomenon reach farther than myself.

What of the others who were not thus spared? Imprisoned in their own cells of neglect, there are many, as I bore witness to, who were losing, or had lost completely the ability to face their fellow man. Their hopes of inclusion had extinguished alongside their confidence in themselves. I see, I pray for a future for those darkened faces, for those downcast eyes.

I do not curse those who cannot remain friends with another because of their associations with others, I pity them. Let it be known to them that they are a pollution, and that regret is something that can only be cured directly. I do not go as far to say that wrongdoing will spurn their futures. There exists those who are both the king of the cruel and the cream of the crop. They can bury it in themselves, that not a facet of guilt may show to the world outside. However, whether the impact be a crack or crater, I leave it to their character to decide how it will one day shape them.

I still do not understand the Middle School Phenomenon. I know not of its origin; but perhaps each year of it birthed the next, creating a sickly cycle that’s never to end. There is something, though. A devious creature that spawns in a vast amount of people. When I look forward, though I don’t know how far forward, I see it eradicated. I tire of that world, populated solely by oppressors and oppressed. I urge you all not to let it take you too. Just because middle school is over doesn't mean that all have emerged unscathed. I implore you not to be the one to drown the fellow castaway, to not be the one to turn away, and I implore that you would be the one to change a life, to change a thousand lives. The smallest gesture means more than you know it does.

=Cite Your Sources= none.