We haven’t forgotten the individual, though nearly 4,000 students reside in this building of Comet Country. We have Picassos, athletic state champions, political debaters, humanitarians: we cover it all.
When we do interviews, however, students are often confused until we discuss the premise of the story: they don’t believe that in a school over-flowing with talent, they have done something to catch our attention. Because it’s easy to slip away into the faceless crowds that stumble through these hallways every fifty minutes. We disappear–without even realizing we have done so–until we’re graduating, and we still can’t name the dark-haired boy who walks across the stage somewhere in the A’s. Our pride in our school deflates–not because it is lesser but because we’re not a part of it.
But then we watch MBC, and we meet the dark-haired boy we’ve never seen before, only now we know his name is Kusha Ansari and that he started the Mason Community Horn Choir. And after we hear his story, we listen to our peers chuckle during Kids in the Commons and declare they want to be Will McGowan and Erin Brush. Our laughs mingle with those on camera until we turn to those beside us and share who we’ve always wanted to be–Lady Gaga or Michael Jordan–and applaud our team’s accomplishments–basketball or chess.
We come alive rather than disappear, and the school of nearly 4,000 shrinks to a comfortable hub. There’s one less name we don’t know, and we begin to realize that this is what it means to be Comet Country. Because we are the stories, and @WE_ARE_MBC.