Burning the Past, Embracing the Future: The Journey of a Burning Report Card

In Beirut, amidst the turmoil of war, my family and I faced a decision that would alter our lives forever. The city, with its bustling markets and resilient people, was all I had ever known. As we walked the streets lined with vendors selling everything from fresh bread to clothes, I clung to the memories, knowing we were leaving it all behind.

Our departure was marked by a blend of fear and hope. Crossing the ocean, we arrived in America, a land of opportunities yet filled with new challenges. Financial struggles hit us immediately. My parents worked tirelessly to rebuild our lives, while I navigated the cultural shifts and language barriers that marked me as different. In school, I struggled to fit in. Laughter became my shield, and I played the role of the class clown to hide my insecurities. To my parents, my report card was just a piece of paper, its significance lost in translation.

At 13, a 1.6 GPA was my wake-up call. My sister's lecture was a turning point. Her words ignited a fire within me—literally and figuratively. I burned my report card, symbolizing the end of my old ways and the beginning of a new chapter. When those around me asked, "Ali, what has happened to you? Why have you suddenly changed your ways?" I would facetiously reply, "I am undergoing a metamorphosis," but this time, it was a profound truth.

High school became a beacon of hope. Education unlocked doors I never knew existed. My name, once known for jokes, now adorned honor rolls. I immersed myself in studies, surrounded by peers who shared my drive and ambition. Despite moments of doubt––doubt that often still creeps––I persevered, moving from high school to college, and now to medical school.

I am unsure what happened that day, why I burnt my report card. I am not sure why I decided to leave my old ways. But I did. Perhaps it was a culmination of my sister's words, the weight of my own disappointment, or the latent potential within me waiting to be unleashed. In that moment of burning the past, I forged a new path forward.

Each stage of my journey has been filled with both awe and apprehension. Reflecting on my past, I see the transformation from a struggling student to a dedicated scholar. Resilience in a journey calls for continuous adaptation. We must depart to grow—whether crossing continents to a new land or stepping into a hospital filled with vulnerable patients. Each arrival, each experience, offers a potential for new growth. Departure is inevitable, for we are all destined to leave. While we cannot always control our arrivals, what we make of these moments is within our grasp.