Think. Inside the box. by Nicholas

Think. Inside the box. by Nicholas - August 2025 Scholarship Essay

In physics, there’s a concept called superposition. Simply put, it’s the idea that a particle can exist in two different states at once, until it’s observed. Only then does it “collapse” into one reality.
Enter Schrödinger’s cat — you’ve probably heard this one. A cat is placed in a sealed box with a tiny bit of poison triggered by radioactive decay. Until the box is opened, the cat is both dead and alive, existing in a weird limbo of possibility. Schrödinger came up with this scenario not to explain superposition, but to mock it. Ironically, the very thought experiment he invented to criticize quantum theory is now the one everyone uses to understand it.
Schrödinger’s mistake, I think, was his pride. A man of science, a man of service — now mostly remembered for a cat in a box. A joke, really. He had a lifetime of achievement behind him, but fate had a different plan.
I think of Schrödinger when I ask myself what I want out of this next chapter. I’m a rising freshman at the ever-prestigious Howard University — not just a freshman, but an Honors Physics Scholar. Sounds fancy, right? It is. And that title comes with a whole lot of pressure. Pressure to be brilliant. To stand out. To succeed. To live up to everything it implies.
But here’s the thing: Schrödinger had plans too. I’m sure he imagined he’d be remembered for rigorous proofs and serious publications. But life’s weird. You think you’re building one legacy, and the universe builds another. Maybe I’ll end up doing groundbreaking research in my first year. Or maybe I’ll just be remembered as the guy who brought warm cookies to the study room in Drew Hall.
That’s why my aspirations for the year are a little scattered. I want to make real friends in the physics lounge and study together at the Starbucks on Georgia Ave. I want to spend a few hours volunteering at the local food pantry just off Rhode Island Ave. I want to swing by Sankofa on a quiet Tuesday, grab a smoothie, and finish my reading on the shaded bench near Founders Library. I want to bake something edible for my roommates — even if it’s from a box — and check in on my mom every night before midterms turn me into a ghost.
Who knows which of these things I’ll actually be remembered for? That’s the thing about superposition — until the box is opened, all possibilities are on the table.
So maybe my aspiration this year isn’t to be the best student or the life of every party. Maybe it’s just to be a good student, a moderate socialite, a thoughtful son, a notorious baker, a dependable volunteer — and whatever else the year makes room for. I’ll fill my box with as many states as I can.

Who knows which one will be my Schrödinger’s cat?

(Try reading the title again.)