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Kaye's House Chapel Presentation
Kaye's House is "Resilient!"
Kaye's House surprised us with a Thursday Chapel presentation and, as the Headmaster commented, it was an inspiring start to our day. Thank you to all the girls from Kaye's for sharing their talents with us. What follows is the speech by Head of House:
The theme of our House presentation is Resilience. To me, resilience is the ability to accept life’s challenges, and the strength of character to continue to meet them even after defeat.
It is too easy to allow our critics, internal and external, to convince us that we are too weak, too timid, or too untalented to ever triumph. Resilient people ignore these voices: they know that every loss and every letdown comprises a valuable part of the human experience. Losing a battle does not mean the war is over; rather, it prepares you for the next fight, armed with the knowledge that this time, you are wiser, stronger, and more resilient than ever before.
In the sixth grade, I tried out for the San Francisco Rebels. The Rebels were, and probably still are, one of the most competitive club basketball teams in the city. Consequently, I showed up on the first afternoon of tryouts literally shaking with nerves. I stood awkwardly by the bleachers, surveying my competition: every girl there looked at least 3 years older than the average sixth grader, with more muscle, confidence, and street cred than I could ever dream of having. Nevertheless, I put my name down and waited for tryouts to begin. The following three hours were brutal: I missed a lay-up, threw up an airball and shot forty percent at the foul line. I was also knocked to the ground a total of four times during the defensive drills. The final component of tryouts consisted of a small tournament. We were divided into teams of five: two teams playing at a time while the rest of the group watched. When my name was called, I stumbled on to the court to my new teammates, fighting the impulse to run sobbing from the gym. Our opponents came forward to shake hands and choose checks. “I got the ginger!” one of the girls who had knocked me over earlier stepped forward, smirking. Her name, I learned, was Phat Phat (p h a t, p h a t), and she looked at least sixteen.
The game began in a flurry of chaos, and before I knew it Phat Phat had the ball, about to shoot from just inside the key. Whatever confidence I possessed went into one final effort: it was too late to try and force her to pass, so instead I jumped as high as I could, swinging down my right arm as she lifted the ball for a jump-shot. The impact of my hand crushed the ball back downwards, knocking into Phat Phat’s face before hitting the ground. Ignoring her cries of shock and outrage, I grabbed the baskeball and dribbled twice up the court before passing ahead to one of my teammates, who scored.
The elation of packing Phat Phat lasted all the way home, where I waited feverishly by the computer for the tryout results to be posted. At eight o clock, I refreshed the Rebel’s Website to see “2006 Rebel Roster now available.” Heart pounding, I clicked the link and searched for “Rosa Valan.” It wasn’t there. Instead, I stared at the name “Phat Phat” as my eyes filled with angry tears. Did I let this setback bring me down? Yes. I threw my basketball shoes in the closet and signed up for recreational volleyball.
It took two full years before I gained the courage to go back to the SF Rebels. However, in the winter of eighth grade I returned to the site of my past humiliation, and this time I found that while I recognized many of the faces, they lacked the same terrifying presence I remembered. That night, I checked the website and there, under “SF Rebel’s B-Team” was the name “Rosa Valan.”
While it may not sound like the most inspiring experience, playing on the Rebel’s remains one of my proudest achievements. Without the fear, shame, and defeat of that first tryout, I wouldn’t know I possessed the strength it took to go back.
Our moments of failure define us. In them, we see our limitations, and with this knowledge comes the opportunity to go beyond them. Resilience characterizes our aptitude to deal with these failures, and the pride in finally overcoming them.
To end in the words of Michael Jordan, “I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”
– Rosa V., Head of Kaye's House
Photos by Wendy Woollven
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The theme of our House presentation is Resilience. To me, resilience is the ability to accept life’s challenges, and the strength of character to continue to meet them even after defeat.
It is too easy to allow our critics, internal and external, to convince us that we are too weak, too timid, or too untalented to ever triumph. Resilient people ignore these voices: they know that every loss and every letdown comprises a valuable part of the human experience. Losing a battle does not mean the war is over; rather, it prepares you for the next fight, armed with the knowledge that this time, you are wiser, stronger, and more resilient than ever before.
In the sixth grade, I tried out for the San Francisco Rebels. The Rebels were, and probably still are, one of the most competitive club basketball teams in the city. Consequently, I showed up on the first afternoon of tryouts literally shaking with nerves. I stood awkwardly by the bleachers, surveying my competition: every girl there looked at least 3 years older than the average sixth grader, with more muscle, confidence, and street cred than I could ever dream of having. Nevertheless, I put my name down and waited for tryouts to begin. The following three hours were brutal: I missed a lay-up, threw up an airball and shot forty percent at the foul line. I was also knocked to the ground a total of four times during the defensive drills. The final component of tryouts consisted of a small tournament. We were divided into teams of five: two teams playing at a time while the rest of the group watched. When my name was called, I stumbled on to the court to my new teammates, fighting the impulse to run sobbing from the gym. Our opponents came forward to shake hands and choose checks. “I got the ginger!” one of the girls who had knocked me over earlier stepped forward, smirking. Her name, I learned, was Phat Phat (p h a t, p h a t), and she looked at least sixteen.
The game began in a flurry of chaos, and before I knew it Phat Phat had the ball, about to shoot from just inside the key. Whatever confidence I possessed went into one final effort: it was too late to try and force her to pass, so instead I jumped as high as I could, swinging down my right arm as she lifted the ball for a jump-shot. The impact of my hand crushed the ball back downwards, knocking into Phat Phat’s face before hitting the ground. Ignoring her cries of shock and outrage, I grabbed the baskeball and dribbled twice up the court before passing ahead to one of my teammates, who scored.
The elation of packing Phat Phat lasted all the way home, where I waited feverishly by the computer for the tryout results to be posted. At eight o clock, I refreshed the Rebel’s Website to see “2006 Rebel Roster now available.” Heart pounding, I clicked the link and searched for “Rosa Valan.” It wasn’t there. Instead, I stared at the name “Phat Phat” as my eyes filled with angry tears. Did I let this setback bring me down? Yes. I threw my basketball shoes in the closet and signed up for recreational volleyball.
It took two full years before I gained the courage to go back to the SF Rebels. However, in the winter of eighth grade I returned to the site of my past humiliation, and this time I found that while I recognized many of the faces, they lacked the same terrifying presence I remembered. That night, I checked the website and there, under “SF Rebel’s B-Team” was the name “Rosa Valan.”
While it may not sound like the most inspiring experience, playing on the Rebel’s remains one of my proudest achievements. Without the fear, shame, and defeat of that first tryout, I wouldn’t know I possessed the strength it took to go back.
Our moments of failure define us. In them, we see our limitations, and with this knowledge comes the opportunity to go beyond them. Resilience characterizes our aptitude to deal with these failures, and the pride in finally overcoming them.
To end in the words of Michael Jordan, “I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”
– Rosa V., Head of Kaye's House
Photos by Wendy Woollven
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