"If I return to Poland, I can attend a top medical school and become a surgeon on a stable path. If I go to the United States, I can study Linguistics, which I love, but that path is full of uncertainty and financial concerns. I do not know whether I can persevere."

Late one night before graduation last year, while I was still struggling through final-exam revision in the library, my Polish roommate Michael shared his uncertainty with me for the first time.

Michael is gifted with languages. He speaks several fluently and often chats with me in Mandarin.

▲Me and Michael at Prom 2025

I had assumed that a soul shaped by literature and language would lead a carefree and romantic life. I did not expect that he, too, was caught between idealism and reality.

In that moment, I suddenly realised that, whether we come from the East or the West, and whatever education system we grew up in, we are all searching for the same answer: Who am I, and who should I become?

Hence, this inquiry into "who I am" defined the central theme of my three-year journey at UWC Changshu.

Before coming to UWC Changshu China, I attended a public school in Suzhou. At that time, life followed a planned track. Practice papers, exams, and grades were my only concerns, and, in many ways, my entire purpose. My life was orderly and predictable. I did not have many choices to make, and I did not need to take much responsibility for the consequences of those choices.

In autumn 2023, I stepped onto the campus of UWC Changshu China. I found that the track had suddenly disappeared. I had been pushed into a wilderness that opened in every direction.

I could choose my subjects, take part in activities, organise my own life, and decide what I wanted to explore.

Nevertheless, this unprecedented freedom brought me concerns about the unknown:

What activities should I choose to participate in? Who did I want to become? How was I supposed to navigate my relationships with peers and teachers?

To battle against such perplexing confusion, I started to explore myself and my passion by venturing into the unfamiliar.

During my FP year, I tried many new activities, including volleyball, kayaking, and volunteer service.

Amid that wide-ranging exploration, WASP (Ultimate Frisbee Varsity) and Techcrew gradually became the soil in which I took root.

▲WASP ZhiXing 25'-26'

On the frisbee field, I fell in love with the simple joy of chasing the disc. I was often moved by the encouragement of my teammates. Over time, I realised that frisbee meant far more to me than the sport itself. It taught me to reflect and improve through both wins and losses, and it brought me into deep connection with my teammates through sweat, tears, and laughter.

The habit of reflection and the resilience I developed on the frisbee field later found a broader stage in Techcrew, guiding me toward a more complete understanding of my passions.

▲Techcrew provides technical support for all school performances. From Chinese Cultural Evening (CCE) and One World Concert (OWC) to Open Mic, every event, large or small, depends on our work.

At first, I thought the job was mainly about designing striking stage lights. Gradually, however, I came to understand that communication and collaboration are at its core.

Behind a two-hour performance are countless nights of equipment testing and detail work. Every piece of information needed to be conveyed with high efficiency and clarity to crew members, performers, and the directors.

I still remember my FP Winterfest. As the microphone manager, I wore a headset and assisted with a large production for the first time. I was extremely nervous and afraid that I might make even a small mistake.

Before the performance began, Thomas, a senior student, kept reminding me:

"Stay calm. Take deep breaths. Do not forget what you need to do, and enjoy your first time helping with a performance."

In the dark backstage, I remembered his words. I moved from microphone to microphone, checked them all, adjusted their angles for performers, and confirmed the running order.

When the show ended flawlessly, standing under the glare of the curtain-call stage lights, I realized I had truly fallen in love with this "job", as well as the thrill of polishing every single detail to perfection alongside a team.

By DP1, I had become confident with the equipment and joined the core team. I served as Techcrew Stage Manager for CCE.

During the first technical rehearsal, many performers did not arrive on time.

I looked at my teammates in the Tech Box. They were all ready at their positions and were carefully testing the equipment. I felt a sudden tension: if we allowed the delay to continue, we would waste the work my teammates had already put in and risk affecting the final production.

For the first time, I moved beyond the communication barrier of thinking, "We are all schoolmates; it feels awkward to urge them."

I approached the directing team and set a clear boundary:

"We agreed on the technical rehearsal schedule together. All Techcrew members are here and ready on time, and we ask that you respect everyone's time. If performers cannot arrive on time, we will skip their technical rehearsal in order to ensure the quality of the whole production."

After that conversation, later rehearsals stayed efficient and smooth.

I learned that conflict is unavoidable in Techcrew. The key lies in active communication and clear expectations on both sides. Only through these uncomfortable conversations can we ensure the quality of the final performance.

A greater challenge came from the boundary between work and life.

Techcrew often requires communication both onstage and behind the scenes. Performers, the directing team, and fellow crew members may all bring different requests and problems to solve. Amid this scattered flow of information, my time and energy became fragmented, and I felt completely exhausted.

It took me a long time to learn how to separate work from the rest of my life. When I was working, I gave the role my full attention and stayed professional. At other times, I focused on my own life.

Later, friends told me that I seemed like two entirely different people at work and outside it—serious enough to be intimidating when I was on duty. I understood that this was both a way of protecting myself and a sign of my respect for the work.

▲Group photo of the Techcrew 

team at CCE 2025

By DP2, I became the leader of Techcrew and began coordinating the wider operation of the ZhiXing.

The most difficult issue was the long-standing confusion around technical requests. In the past, people sent separate emails whenever they needed technical support. Even after several messages, their specific needs often remained unclear. No one consistently handled communication, and a single request often passed through several people. The process was inefficient and prone to mistakes.

Just as I was beginning to feel uncertain about how to move forward, Joseph, an alumnus, told me:

"Techcrew faces similar problems every year. We should not only handle what is in front of us. We also need to leave experience for the students who come after us, so that the whole ZhiXing can serve the community more efficiently."

So we built a standardised technical-service booking platform together. We identified the key information needed for each booking request and replaced scattered email exchanges with a single form. This made it easier for community members to submit requests and significantly improved the way we processed information.

In this way, our contribution expanded from helping individual performances run well to improving the future operation of ZhiXing itself.

My three years in Techcrew showed me that every year brought new room for growth and new goals to reach. In essence, it has been a journey of progressive leaps.

▲Techcrew Core 25'-27'

Inside that small Tech Box, practical service and repeated attempts helped me find an inner passion. In the face of difficulty, I learned persistence and came to understand the power of collaboration beyond conflict. By confronting challenges directly and building real connections with others, I gradually began to form a clearer and more grounded sense of self.

Yet the more I tried, the more I came to understand the complexity of reality.

During FP orientation week, I joined a group discussion about "idealism." At the time, I placed great expectations on everything and assumed that this was a pure utopia, filled with unlimited possibility.

But lived experience gradually challenged that imagination.

Through the pressure and intensity of Techcrew, I saw that every successful performance came at the cost of countless exhausting nights of equipment testing. In Philosophy, we studied "Freedom and Social Determinism." Through class debates, I began to understand that larger social structures often define the boundaries of individual freedom.

▲Group Photo of Philosophy Class

In Economics, our unit on "Economic Inequality and Poverty" made me aware of the unequal distribution of resources in society.

The DP1 Henan Project Week gave me the most direct sense of this gap.

For several days at Siyuan School, we attended classes with local students and shared stories about our backgrounds. I could clearly see their curiosity about different cultures in their eyes. Perhaps our brief exchange could only open a window for them to glimpse a wider world, planting a seed of yearning and exploration in their hearts. 

But I also understood clearly that a short visit could not easily bridge the educational and resource gap between urban and rural areas.

▲During DP1 Project Week 2025, our group shared the cultures of Bulgaria and Ghana with students at Siyuan School.

The perfect bubble of idealism I had imagined was gradually punctured by reality. The world no longer appeared black and white; it became a complex grey area.

Those large philosophical questions did not resolve my confusion. Instead, they made me increasingly anxious, and I entered a long period of inner conflict.

Looking back, how did that prolonged season of internal friction and self-doubt eventually find solid ground? It was Catherine, a Psychology teacher, with whom I shared a bizarre dream about an unfamiliar room. Viewing it through a psychological lens, she told me:

"Dreams are often reflections of our deepest anxieties. Dreaming of an unfamiliar room might be your id expressing its lostness. Yet, if you feel an intrinsic sense of peacefulness within that unfamiliar room, perhaps you've already discovered your answers amidst the confusion."

On a bench by the lake in early summer, we talked about Jung's Analytical Psychology and shared our eccentric experiences. She also told me that nature may have the power to heal. When we cannot make sense of something, she suggested, we might try looking for answers in the natural world.

One evening, I sat on the lawn and watched the sunset for a long time. As the sun slowly dropped below the horizon and twilight spread across the campus, I felt that I had touched the nature of uncertainty itself.

It rises from within us, but it can also dissolve into everything around us.

The world was never simply black and white. The wide grey space between them is perhaps the truest experience of being alive. I began to learn how to breathe and live within uncertainty and ambiguity.

Through my conversations with Catherine, I stopped feeling overwhelmed by my strange and complicated dreams. Instead, I became interested in understanding what they might reveal about my own psychological state.

During Feiran's office hours, he did more than answering my academic questions. When I felt deeply uncertain about university and subject choices, he gave me practical advice and helped me identify fields that genuinely interested me.

"Which of your past experiences made you feel truly engaged?" he asked. "I remember your thoughts and reflections during Henan Project Week. Do you want to explore social issues in greater depth?"

▲A photo with Feiran at the graduation ceremony

I used to think Economics meant numbers and finance. I found it dry and utilitarian. He told me that finance is only a small branch of Economics, and that the field also offers ways to investigate questions about society, markets, and people.

He also told me that only genuine interest can sustain someone over a long journey, and that I should not choose a path I dislike simply for practical reasons.

With his guidance, I developed a clearer understanding of how different disciplines explore different kinds of questions. I also became more certain about my future academic direction.

During my summer programme, my university counsellor, Amie, listened carefully as I shared the difficulties I had encountered and the volunteer projects I had joined.

"Once you settle into the rhythm of life there, you will gradually adapt and feel more relaxed. Do not forget that everyone feels a little awkward during their first few days of studying and living abroad."

During the most anxious part of application season, she stayed with me until seven in the evening, working through my personal statement again and again. She helped me connect three years of scattered experiences into a clear thread tracing the question: Who am I?

UWCers often say "it's the people that define UWC". Through these connections and interactions, my sense of self was no longer an abstract construction wrapped in idealism. It gradually found an anchor in reality, and I learned to approach large questions through practical means.

Now, sitting at my desk in a foreign land, I look back on the past three years. I seem to see myself stepping onto the CSC campus on that first day.

Three years later, I have become a more complicated person. I have learned to think from different perspectives and to handle complex emotions. I no longer seek black-and-white answers; I have learned to accept the grey areas of the world.

At the same time, I have gained the ability to step beyond my comfort zone, try unfamiliar things with courage, and remain committed to what I love.

When I think back to the discussion of idealism during orientation week, I no longer imagine it as a perfect state. In a changing world, pure idealism may not be a distant shore that we can reach. It may be a direction that we continue to search towards.

In Chinese class, my teacher Ms. Qu once spoke about the metaphor of the "Odyssey": a journey in which a person faces hardship and develops self-understanding and inner growth.

▲Group Photo of Chinese Class

My three years at UWC Changshu China have been my own Odyssey.

I once lost myself in the wilderness of freedom. I suffered when my idea of idealism began to fall apart. But in concrete people and experiences, I eventually found an anchor for myself.

My Polish roommate Michael once struggled between reality and passion. In the end, he chose to study in the United States, majoring in Linguistics and Biology. He found an on-campus internship, and his financial concerns have gradually eased.

We are all travelling through our own Odysseys.

My father once told me: "When circumstances are difficult, cultivate yourself; when you have the means, contribute to others."

I believe this may become a guiding thread in my future life: first, to understand myself clearly; then, within my own capacity, to do more that benefits other people and society.

Much like my three years of Techcrew experience, this journey has transitioned from enhancing technical skills to serving and empowering others. What looked like an outward exploration was, in another sense, an inward search for self-understanding.

I plan to study Economics, Philosophy, and Cognitive Science at university. 

Beginning with concrete cases from the real world, I hope to explore the logic of human thought and the abstract boundaries of consciousness. In the wilderness of reality, I will continue searching for a fuller sense of self.

The end of the Odyssey culminates in a homecoming. Yet, my "home" isn't a geographical place, but a flowing state of internal alignment and grounding. 

I think life is an ongoing Odyssey, and the so-called homecoming isn't about arriving at a static destination, but rather about constantly renewing the self and discovering internal peace amidst the volatility and impermanence of the external world.