There was no point in running anymore — I was late. Quickly, running for my life turned into a walk of shame. It was my first semester at college, my first college final presentation and the first time I had been late to class. I could not have had worse luck — or so I thought.
I was running late on Nov. 5, 2024 — the last day to vote in Georgia. The 2024 presidential election would be my first time voting, and I had planned to go to the polls with my parents, hoping to create a special memory with them. Unfortunately, they waited until the last minute to vote, and just like my parents, I waited until the last minute to finish my final presentation for my anthropology class. With the presentation mere hours away, I was in a tough spot, but could not miss the chance to help elect our first Black female president. Luckily for me, the trip home to my hometown poll was just a shuttle ride away from Atlanta — the blessing of living a few minutes from Emory University’s Oxford College campus.
My plan was simple: I would skip some classes, hop on the shuttle, get picked up by my parents, vote and catch the next shuttle back to Atlanta. I would finish my presentation during the commute, and everything would be fine — or so I thought.
I hopped on the shuttle at 10 a.m. Aside from the driver, I was the only passenger. It was peaceful — too peaceful — and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in the middle of Covington, Ga. The familiar sites of the Newton Federal Bank, the Wendy’s I was fired from and train tracks greeted me. I hopped in my parents’ car, ready to go to the voting center, and discovered that we were registered at two different polling stations. My anxiety began to grow. It was 11:30 a.m., my class started at 3:00 p.m., and my slides only had titles.
At the polls, volunteers greeted me and I cast my vote. As I watched my ballot get counted, I felt a temporary flood of relief — now, it was time to get back to Atlanta for my class. As I sat on the bench at Oxford, waiting for the shuttle and finishing my presentation, I kept glancing at the clock. Two minutes, five minutes and then ten minutes passed. I looked at the shuttle website again, and my heart sank. The Oxford shuttle was leaving an hour later than I expected. I was not going to make it in time. I was going to be late to my first-ever college final.
I arrived in Atlanta 30 minutes late and sprinted off the shuttle toward the Anthropology Building, running as fast as I could. When I reached my classroom, I stood silently behind the door, frozen, before mustering the strength to enter and sit down. As I stood to present, I knew I was unprepared. I glanced at my slides — which only displayed titles and two bullet points —hoping they would guide me through the presentation. I had to improvise. I took a quick breath and tried to remember why I chose this project. I wanted to explain how the healthcare industry needed a holistic approach to medicine and that it was not possible to completely separate science from culture. I began to speak again, and, to my surprise, my professor appeared impressed.
This was the first time I ever gave an improvised presentation, yet it was the best I had ever given. I originally came to Emory as a chemistry major — however, I was so immersed in what I was learning in anthropology that I switched to the anthropology and human biology major. It was lucky that I was late to my presentation that day, or I may have never seen how my passion for anthropology allowed me to succeed in an unprepared presentation.
Being late to my final helped me remember how I got into Emory in the first place — vigorous desire. My desire for a better healthcare system will always empower my endeavors. This strong desire got me into Emory, and it will continue to endorse success, no matter what is thrown at me.
A couple of weeks passed, and my professor posted my grade — to my surprise, I got an A. Evidently, my professor could see the raw passion during my presentation. This experience challenged me to think deeply about my interest in holistic medicine in modern healthcare, and my accident turned into a blessing. I am capable of overcoming any challenge that comes my way because of the passion I possess. Of all the first-time experiences that happened last semester, this was the most special because of my stroke of not-so-good luck.
Contact Marielle Munakwa at marielle.munakwa@emory.edu
