Lilly Loeb ’25 Reads Essay at MICDS Cum Laude Society Induction

As part of the MICDS Cum Laude Society induction process, each student candidate shared one of their Common App essays for review by the Cum Laude faculty members. The faculty selected seven essays which were shared at a special luncheon held for the student candidates. The students then selected Lilly Loeb ’25 and Alex McCarter ’25 to share their essays with the full Upper School student body during the ceremony on Monday, April 14, 2025. Please enjoy Lilly’s essay, below.

Atop my desk sits a transparent, unsealed mason jar. Filled three-quarters of the way up, the jar holds not food, not marbles, not even coins—instead, rocks.

From afar, the rocks may seem haphazardly thrown together from the same trail. However, anyone taking the time to take a closer look can see that each has its own characteristics with varying shapes, sizes, and colors. Whenever I’m doing homework, I am met with a hodgepodge of typical gray rocks mixed in with every color of the rainbow. The jar sits alongside my most treasured possessions, surrounded by pictures of my favorite people, cherished trinkets, and handwritten affirmations from family.

The collection came into existence in 2012, when my family was spending a relaxing day on Lido Beach. I saw my sisters collecting seashells, and I, eager to be involved, quickly joined the hunt for the small treasures. By the time we left, there were over 20 beautiful shells stuffed into the depths of our pockets. I brought my favorites home and picked out the jar to keep them safe.

It is only fitting, then, that the first item at the very bottom of my jar is one of those beautiful shells my sisters and I discovered. It is white with a pink glow; speckles of beige splatter across its entirety. This shell is a representation of all my firsts. Exciting ones: first day of school, first roller coaster with a loop, first backflip. Scary ones: first time traveling alone, first standardized test, first golf tournament. And sad ones: first loss, first funeral, first holiday without my dad. The shell serves as a reminder that if it has endured so much in all its years of existence and still retains its shine and strength, then I can, too.

Next comes a pebble, around an inch in length and half an inch at its widest. In a sea of landscaping rocks, the mustard yellow, cylindrical pebble on the walkway leading to my house stood out to me. I mostly picked it up for its stand-out color, but now I see how its form is symbolic of the way in which family is a pillar of my life. My family has held me up my whole life, and now I am old enough to reciprocate. Not only can I drive my mom and sisters around now, but I can pave the way and introduce my siblings to new people.

A third, gray item lined with white stripes has traveled considerably further than the aforementioned rock. I picked it up in my grandparents’ neighborhood in Taoyuan, Taiwan, where everyone knows each other, plays basketball together, and gathers with their pets to spend time in the shared courtyard. My Taiwanese rock–a tangible tie to my heritage–reminds me of the importance of community and that I am able to adapt anywhere.

As I think about what my future holds, I reflect on my collection. The black, marbled rock my mom found on our trip to Greece. The greenish one, gifted to me by my friend from her trip to Switzerland. The plain-looking one, from the landscaping of my high school. The spherical one with a hook mark, that I accidentally caught while fishing. The smallest one, that somehow I kept in my shoe on an 8-mile hike. Or the biggest one, which I collected from the bottom of an Alaskan river. The rocks represent a composite of me, my life, and my memories, that I can physically hold onto and recapture.

My jar is not yet full. I’ve left space at the top for a reason. I still have room for more mementos that show my ability to form new values, dive into new experiences, and constantly add new layers to shape my future.