By Kennie Dionisio
I was a loser in high school. Yes, I was the kind of loser you see in movies with the ginormous round glasses who was always getting shoved into lockers.
But in retrospect, if you were to ask me to summarize my last four years at Adelphi University, I’d respond with one word– loss. To this day, in my last semester of college, I’m always losing or at a loss for something. (So I guess you can say I’m still a bit of a “loser.”)
When my first year of college was eclipsed by a global pandemic, I felt like the world was going to end. I had lost everything that an 18-year-old me could possibly want. Quality time with my friends. A sparkling summer vacation to Barcelona. And most importantly, a proper high school graduation.
I’m a first-generation student. Just existing in the realm of higher education feels so foreign to me. Although I was blessed enough to surround myself with a phenomenal group of student leaders during my college orientation, nothing could alleviate the anxiety I felt going into college.
The first time I was ever “lost” during my college journey was when I tried to pick up my Adelphi ID. My friend texted me to pick it up at Levermore Hall. When I asked a Public Safety officer where this alleged “Levermore Hall” was located, he started gesturing at this brick building with trees enveloping it. Mistakenly, I had entered Blodgett Hall. (But who could blame me? A lot of buildings on campus match the description.)
ID in hand, and two years later, “loss” still haunted me during the summer of my sophomore year. After an incapacitating stroke, I nearly lost my father. A once vibrant and energetic man fell to the floor. The man I loved for 20 years could no longer move or speak. I lost my rock, my motivation, my fire underneath my butt.
During my junior year, I lost my 4.0 GPA. During my senior year, I lost Prestigious Panther, and my boyfriend two hours before the ceremony. (What hurt the most is that he dumped me over text.)
I try my best to remain optimistic despite being in a perpetual cycle of “loss,” and it was my optimism that salvaged my college career.
The second time I lost something at Adelphi was when I lost my first name. My birth name is James, meaning “supplanter” in Hebrew. A supplanter is someone who replaces something by treachery or force. It’s fitting; before college, I lived a life of impostor syndrome.
James was the name written on top of all my failed history tests. James was the name scribbled on a pink sheet of paper during my weekly therapy sessions. James was the name printed on my wristband when I was rushed to the hospital. James was the person I hated with every aching bone in my body.
At Adelphi, I was quick to rebrand myself in my first year. I chose the name Kenneth, meaning “born of fire” in Scottish. Like a phoenix, I’ve set myself on fire and rose from the ashes. Although the entirety of our campus affectionately knows me as “Kennie,” I was happy to see a new name on a fresh new ID. (And yes, I went to the right building to pick it up this time.)
In sophomore year, we lost the mask mandate. My core friend group started to form, and we explored a large chunk of Long Island and New York City together. As a sheltered child, I was overjoyed to have this iota of independence, experiencing things like the sunset on Long Beach or the elegant East Asian culture of Flushing. Even the little things like watching “Wizards of Waverly Place” in Eddy Hall on a late afternoon filled me with glee.
The subsequent year, I lost my feigned passion for my computer science major. My strict Filipino mother forced me into STEM like a square peg in a round hole. I was a creative individual my entire life, fond of pursuits like painting, poetry and graphic design. But “that doesn’t make enough money in the long run.” To appease my mother, I convinced myself that I’d be a mobile app designer as a subtle compromise between our two worlds.
I started to take more communications classes in my junior year to fulfill the minor I declared two years prior. The journey was invaluable. After taking courses on Feature Writing and Web Journalism, I was appointed to be the co-features editor of The Delphian. Coupling this opportunity with my previous work as a social media coordinator for Adelphi’s main Instagram page, I’ve found my niche in the media industry.
Today I stand lost in a sea of opportunities. As Senior Class of 2024 President, I’ve found myself drowning in success and the respect of my peers and faculty. Living my passions authentically, I’m losing myself in emails from various social media companies reaching out with content creation and marketing jobs. I’ve made more memories than I can count, and I hope I never lose them. Overall, I am at a loss for words at how beautifully my college journey has progressed.
So as I lovingly depart from Adelphi University, let me leave you with the message that loss isn’t always for the worse. Find the challenge standing in front of you and take it head-on.
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