Looking Back
It’s wild how quickly time passes when you’re not paying attention. One moment, you’re trying to find your first college classroom, hoping you’re not in the wrong building. The next, you’re sitting down to write your final reflection, wondering how it all flew by. Somewhere in between, without even realizing it, you’ve grown through late-night writing sessions, hard conversations, unexpected connections, and quiet moments when something finally clicked.
This class didn’t feel like just another item on a checklist. It felt like a chance to pause and take a real look at how far I’ve come. And honestly? It caught me off guard in the best way. It made me reflect not just on what I’ve learned, but on who I’ve become while learning.
I remember hearing “Become Responsibly Engaged in the World” when I first got to Concordia. It sounded nice. A little abstract. Maybe something you’d put on a poster or hear during orientation. But somewhere along the way, especially in this class, it started to mean something. It showed up in the way I questioned things more deeply, listened more carefully, and cared more intentionally. It was less about memorizing definitions and more about thinking with purpose. About realizing that I don’t just want to exist in the world—I want to understand it, and help shape it for the better.
Finding Meaning Along the Way
There’s one night I keep going back to. I was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, just drained. I had a blog post due, and the article we were working with felt dense and hard. I couldn’t connect with it. I stared at a blank screen for a long time, until I gave up on trying to sound “smart” and just… wrote what felt true. I linked the science to something personal I’d seen in real life. And suddenly, it made sense. The writing flowed. Not because it was perfect, but because it was real.
That moment taught me something I didn’t expect: learning doesn’t always look like a neat, well-formatted essay. Sometimes, it shows up when you’re tired and just trying your best to make sense of something. And that’s okay. That counts, too.
This class challenged me to think in ways I hadn’t before. We tackled topics like brain inflammation, mental health, obesity, and the ethical side of research, not as separate ideas, but as threads woven into the same big picture. They weren’t just facts or headlines. They were human. And that’s what stuck with me. We weren’t solving puzzles for fun; we were exploring questions that affect people’s lives.
I remember one assignment that had me approaching a problem from multiple angles—neuroscience, psychology, and ethics. I realized quickly that no single discipline had all the answers. But when I let them overlap, the full picture became clearer. That shift in thinking across boundaries instead of staying inside one box has completely changed how I see the world. It’s how I read the news now. It’s how I listen to people. It’s how I try to understand the systems that shape our lives.
And then, there’s the writing. I’ve always enjoyed writing, but this class helped me write with more care. Not just about grammar or clarity, but about the person reading it. Could someone outside the field understand what I meant? Would they feel something when they read it? I slowed down. I rewrote sentences just to make them feel more human. I stepped out of my own head and tried to see things from someone else’s view.
That shift in how I communicate awareness of audience, tone, and empathy is something I’ll take with me long after this class. If I were to list one skill on my resume that truly grew this semester, it’d be this: translating complex ideas into something relatable and engaging. Whether I’m writing case notes, advocacy material, or educational content, I know this ability will serve me well.
Carrying It Forward
This semester wasn’t easy, and I won’t pretend otherwise. There were days I felt like I was just barely keeping up, when deadlines felt like dominoes and motivation was nowhere in sight. But I kept showing up. And sometimes, that’s the most important thing. I learned how to manage my time better (still a work in progress), how to give myself grace when I didn’t get it all right, and how to bounce back after slipping behind. That kind of growth doesn’t show up in a gradebook; it’s real. It’s lasting.
More than anything, Concordia and this course taught me that education is about more than checking off requirements. It’s about becoming someone who sees the world differently. Someone who’s curious. Someone who asks better questions. Someone who pays attention to the things that matter, even when they’re complicated or messy.
I’ve come to appreciate that learning in a liberal arts setting is about embracing complexity. It’s about seeing how everything connects, how culture, science, ethics, and emotion are all tangled together. It’s about developing not just your intellect, but your character. And that kind of learning changes you.
As I step into whatever comes next, whether it’s grad school, a career, or something I haven’t even imagined yet, I’m not just taking knowledge with me. I’m taking a mindset. A way of showing up. A belief that small moments of insight can lead to big change. And that learning isn’t over once the final paper is submitted.
If I ever forget that, I’ll come back to this reflection. To this pause. To the reminder that I am not the same person I was when I started. I’m someone who kept going. Someone who grew. And that’s something I’ll always be proud of.
