By Sneha Khetan, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief
One of my earliest and most vivid memories at NCSSM isn’t from a lab or classroom, it’s sitting on Bryan Lawn. A group of us sat in a circle, new to this school, new to each other, still adjusting to the idea that this was home now. It had only been two weeks since President Biden dropped out of the race, and Vice President Kamala Harris launched what would become the shortest presidential campaign in American history. The news felt surreal, and for a few minutes, our conversation reflected that. We laughed about Harris’s viral “brat” rebrand, scrolling through TikToks and memes, bonding over something light, something shared.
But as the sun dipped lower, the conversation deepened. We began to talk about real issues, from the ethics of affirmative action and the importance of raising the minimum wage to the nuances of gun reform. The laughter faded, replaced by careful words and furrowed brows. And then I noticed someone who had been animated just moments before go completely silent. At first, I thought nothing of it, but curiosity got the better of me. I turned to her and asked why she wasn’t speaking anymore.
She looked at me and said, “I’m scared that everyone is going to disagree with me.” That sentence stopped me cold.
For the girl who had always been staunchly opinionated and stubborn, who had never been one for agreeing with the opposition, who took pride in her ability to stand her ground even when she represented the minority view, in that moment, I wasn’t proud. I was humbled. Because for the first time, I realized that my certainty might have made someone else feel uncertain. That my boldness, however well-intentioned, might have created a space where others felt unable to speak.
Later, I learned that she identified as conservative. She felt like a minority at a school where most students leaned left. But what unfolded over the following weeks wasn’t a war of worldviews; it was a relationship built on mutual curiosity. We began to have real conversations about limited government, the economy, and the role of regulation. And while I didn’t always agree with her, I began to understand her. I began to see where she was coming from. And more importantly, I began to respect the thought and experience behind her beliefs.
We live in a world where polarization is profitable. Social media allows us to stay ensconced in our echo chambers. The “-isms” bark louder and louder and louder as algorithms feed us curated outrage, where entire platforms are built around the idea that those who disagree with us must be dangerous, uninformed, or evil. But if we accept that logic, we lose more than civility; we lose democracy. Because democracy, at its core, depends not on unanimity but on compromise. On discourse. On people from different backgrounds, with different beliefs, choosing to show up, speak up, and stay in the room, even when it’s uncomfortable.
And that’s why NCSSM is special. We come from all 100 counties in North Carolina and bring 650 unique sets of stories, values, traditions, and dreams that have shaped 650 different perspectives into one space. And in doing so, we are given the rare opportunity to learn not just from lectures and labs but from each other.
Most of us applied to this school because of its world-class resources and opportunities. But if we leave here having only taken classes and research electives, we’ve missed something vital. The real magic of NCSSM lies not just in its curriculum, but in its community. In the conversations that stretch long into the night. In the moments on Bryan Lawn that start with TikTok and end with policy debates. In the willingness to sit beside someone who thinks differently and to choose understanding over judgment.
So I challenge every student who walks onto this campus not just to chase academic excellence, but to lean into the difficult conversations. To ask the second question. To talk to the person who disagrees. Because when we do, we aren’t just building smarter students, we’re building better citizens.
And in a time when so much feels divided, that kind of connection might just be the most important science of all.
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