Sammy Kolowrat

My Senior Night felt like it came out of nowhere. One second I was a freshman, confused and clueless and the next, I was standing with a microphone in my hand about to sing the Czech National Anthem before my final home game. It was the first time my parents had flown from overseas to see me play, and my mom's first time at the Gut. They finally weren't forced to watch me play on an iPad screen at 1 a.m., due to the six-hour time difference. I remember thinking to myself the day before "I'm already going to be hugely anxious for the game, so singing the anthem won't add that much more anxiety, right?" It felt like an opportunity for me to celebrate where I had come from that I couldn't pass up. I had been playing guitar and singing ever since elementary school, until hockey took over most of the time I had for other hobbies. My dad taught me how to play and we'd spend afternoons strumming while I sang. Only recently have I rekindled my passion for music that had taken a backseat for many years.So many people forget, including my teammates and coaches that I don't call America my home. For me, going home means a full two days of travel over an ocean, a trip that can't be made often. When I first came to UVM, people didn't think I could speak English. Typically, after hearing me speak they'd be so confused by my perfect American accent. During freshman orientation I would dread answering people who would ask where I was from. I'd usually give them the MTV version of the story "I'm from Prague, Czech Republic," after all, it wasn't untrue; it was just a vague representation of my background. This was usually followed up with "Your English is so good!" to which I replied, "Thanks, it took me a while to perfect it" because explaining the whole backstory was too lengthy and complicated. I'll also take that free compliment any day.Ever since I was young, I have been trying to figure out the best way to answer, "Where are you from?" Growing up in the Czech Republic, my answer was very different to what I say now. Prague was my home, but I never felt quite "Czech enough," while America seemed like a foreign country to me. Meanwhile, visiting my mom's parents just added more confusion to the mix, where I'd sit listening to them jabber in Korean, chopsticks in hand, wondering what they were talking about. I went to English-speaking international schools, and I spoke English at home. It felt very much like an American household, just in a foreign country. I learned Czech through the Czech speaking nannies who would take care of my brother and me, and later, through ice hockey.When I started playing on a boy's ice hockey team, I quickly realized that my Czech was not as fluent or natural sounding as I had initially thought. I felt like an outsider, a foreigner, which made me feel embarrassed to speak Czech though I could understand everything people were saying to me. The boys had so much ammunition: I was the only girl on the team, and I was an "American" who couldn't respond to their shots. When they saw my mom at the rink, and then saw me, they quickly made the association that I was half-Asian-something, which just put another gun in their hand. I was silenced by my fear of embarrassment during the early years of my teenage life until I joined a girl's team in addition to the boys. The girls thought my accent was funny and I was finally able to laugh at myself for the mistakes I made. Eventually, I became part of the National Team Program where I made friends who would correct my terrible grammar and teach me new words. Even though there were always people, both boys and girls, who tried to make me feel ashamed for my differences, my confidence grew. Despite all the harassment the boys gave me when I was younger, I learned how to retaliate and eventually earned their respect both on and off the ice. It was at my first U18 World Championships playing for the Czech team where I finally felt like I was proud of where I stood as a sort of Czech, sort of Korean, sort of American girl.It was during my third and final U18 World Championships in Budapest where I met my current coach,. I had been trying to get recruited to a Division I university for the past three years from overseas, and I remained uncommitted until my senior spring. I had already planned on doing a post-graduate year at Choate Rosemary Hall to buy me more time to get committed, despite my unwillingness to be a fifth-year senior. After our game against Sweden, Jim invited my dad and me to visit UVM. I had never heard of UVM, but I was excited nonetheless to visit. When the time came in late April, we flew from Prague into Burlington, where I fell in love with UVM. Church Street was like a small slice of downtown Prague, and everything from the Gut to the program's philosophy made my choice easy. I committed on the last day of my visit to attend UVM for the year following my post-grad year, and I never looked back.Fast-forward five years and there I stood, microphone in hand, wearing my hockey gear, doing something completely unconventional. Even though I was shaking, stage fright kicking in, I realized that this was just another strange thing I was about to do. Nothing about me is conventional, nor is anything I have ever done. I chose to play a male dominated sport; I played for an all boys team until I was 18. I grew up in a country where I had to learn the language and yet called that country home. I did a post-graduate year at a prep school. I have two passports. I am a biracial female who chose to be in the STEM field. Now, I am a captain of an amazing team I call family, singing a song that made me feel proud of my strange journey to my home away from home, UVM.