"Finding my Voice" by Caitlin Meyer

            On March 26, 2022, the worst and best day of my life, my dad decided to divorce my mom, and I chose to stay with my dad. Most of that day I have blocked from my memory because it is not my favorite memory to look back on. What I can remember is packing my most essential items with the anxiety that I would never come back to my childhood home and my relationship with my mom would never recover. I did not see my mom for a week, and when I finally saw her I was a nervous wreck. That day I can not recall at all, but I do remember that the days that followed were some of the hardest days of my life. I would put a brave face on at school, but in reality my home life was crumbling around me. The rest of freshman year felt as if I was drowning and there was no one to pull me out or no buoy I could use to save myself.

            So far, it seems that my parents divorce was the cause of my suffering, but in reality it was the actions of my mother. I started seeing a therapist to work through my emotions not only about my parent’s divorce but the anxiety I had from my childhood. My mother was the main caretaker of me and my brother. She provided me with many fun memories, but even with all these good memories there were moments of yelling, breaking toys, making me insecure, and me feeling scared. As a child, it felt very hard to understand why one moment my mom would act like my best friend but then would be my biggest bully. I have realised now that it had nothing to do with me, but her own emotions and how she used our family as her target for what she was feeling. What she did not realise was that her actions were driving people away, and were affecting my mental health.

            After the divorce, my mom, brother, and I went to family therapy together so that we could heal and grow together. I thought change from my mother would happen instantly but I was wrong. After our first ever appointment my brother and I were met with hurtful words and screaming to the point my grandparents had to intervene. For months this happened almost everytime we decided to stay at her house and my brother and I would not speak up for ourselves. In family therapy I slowly started getting better at confronting my mom about her actions during my childhood and how she acted after the divorce. Speaking up for myself in any situation has always been hard for me no matter who the person was. I was constantly afraid of confronting my family, friends, and teachers if something was wrong, because of a fear of disappointment my mother instilled in me. Going to therapy has slowly helped me work on standing up for myself in smaller situations.

            Eventually after a couple months of therapy, my brother was able to start standing up for us whenever my mother would get angry. His bravery during these situations is what finally gave me the courage to finally speak up for myself as well. I am still not the best when it comes to confrontation and my heart still skips a beat when I stand up for myself, but the improvement I have made is what I am proud of. Finding my voice not only around my mother, but other people in my life has helped me immensely with my mental health and my leadership skills. Having self-advocacy has allowed me to better my relationships with my friends, teachers, and family including my mom. Even though my mom’s and I relationship is still mediocre and I still feel like I am walking on eggshells, we are both still learning and growing together. I have realized that even through all of our struggles she is still my mother who cares and loves me.

            I do not want to look back at my parent’s divorce as a tragic event that happened, but instead I want to have a positive outlook on the experience. My parent’s divorce gave me the opportunity and strength to find my voice against my mom and others. Everyday I hope to learn more about myself and grow into the person I want to be. As I go to college in a few months, I am grateful for all the experiences I have had, because of the important life lessons I was taught along the way.

"It's the Journey" by Justin D

“It's not the destination, it's the journey” - Ralph Waldo Emerson.
While easy to understand, it doesn’t have the same value to someone until you’ve experienced it. I started playing my alto saxophone in 5th grade, and it was a side activity I honestly didn’t care for. I only played it during school and never did anything else. I faked the playing assignments and never listened to saxophone music. When I entered high school, I heard for the first time what a skilled musician sounds like in person, someone I could talk to and learn from. I was inspired to be just like the upperclassmen in the band, but I didn’t have the technique. So, after a talk with the current assistant band director, I made it my goal to achieve the wind ensemble, the advanced group at Etiwanda, during the second semester of my freshman year
            I started to bring home my instrument every day and practice. What I learned was consistent practice that builds technique; the duration was relatively irrelevant. So no matter the day I played my saxophone, even if it was for 5 minutes, as long as I played, the day was a success. Some days were harder than others like the time I came home late on my birthday and played at 11 pm didn’t resonate well with my parents. Although some days were tough, I felt like I was the most prepared I’ll ever be. As the first semester came to an end and as I waited for audition dates to be released my heart dropped, when my band director posted an announcement saying,  “Due to covid-19 challenges and restrictions auditions will not be held this year the following placements are assigned.”
            I was placed into a symphonic band, which is one level lower than the wind ensemble, my goal. I felt cheated that I did everything and didn’t get a chance to prove myself. I talked to the assistant band director about being frustrated, but was convinced to look at this in a positive perspective. I have already improved so much in just one semester and if I keep working I can become even better for the following year.
            Sophomore year was brutal with more rigorous coursework and increasing difficulty in music. In combination with more band responsibilities, it felt as if there was no end in sight. I slipped up on some of my practice days, and to be honest, I wasn’t as prepared this time. Around the time of audition season, they released audition music I could practice, so I knew what I had to do. I fully committed myself to practicing, even if it meant falling behind on assignments leading up to the date. I stepped into the room observing the 2 judges in front of me. Both the director and assistant band director were staring me down as I entered. I started to immerse myself in my environment and started to play. I let my emotions flow through my music allowing it to express how I felt. Between sections, I balanced on one foot because I was so nervous I began to shake my leg affecting my playing. At the end of the audition, the assistant band director gave me a thumbs up, and I felt relieved. About a week later, my heart sank like a stone. I didn't make it again, instead being placed at the top of the symphonic band.
            Falling just short of your goal is either discouraging or inspiring, depending on how someone wants to deal with it. If you let it get to you, you’ll be frustrated, or you can see it for what it is: inspiring proof that you can accomplish your goals. I took it as inspiration that I have worked my way up and now am closer than ever to achieving my goal. On the first day of the next semester, I walked into the room with confidence with no doubt in my abilities. Suddenly, as I was putting together my saxophone, I was called to the director's office. Ms Marin, the director, told me that there is a spot opening in the wind ensemble, and I was being moved up. I honestly felt like screaming, I couldn't hide my smile and I promised her I would do my best in wind ensemble.
            Achieving the wind ensemble made me so happy, but what I gathered along the way was practicing techniques and daily discipline. Those daily practice techniques carry over into all facets of saxophone. I know what steps I have to go through every time I want to learn a new song or piece of music. Whenever I get inspired by another musician's performance, I use the recording in combination with my learned techniques to develop my own musical identity. The discipline from my practice carries on into every daily task. I hold myself accountable to keep my promises and follow through on my actions allowing me to be the best version of myself.
Although the goal was wind ensemble, I did achieve it. The lessons I learned along the way are what allowed me to grow as a person. Music itself didn’t make a better person, but it was the goal, and the pursuit of the goal that pushed me to improve. It's the goal that pushes us and through the journey we grow.

"Walking on a New Trail" By: Ayden H

 

            I say very confidently that I had lived a peaceful life. My parents, from before I was even brought into this planet have worked extremely hard to make sure that my brother and I lived the best life we possibly could. I note this because it's important to say that while I have experienced my share of dark seasons and struggles in my life, there is not part of my mind that does not understand the blessed life I lived. I’ve been privileged enough to travel many parts of our country, I’ve been surrounded by what seems like a never ending amount of family and friends, I’ve gotten to try the best foods on the planet, and play sports with friends that I have built lifelong relationships with. Happiness indescribable by English takes up the overwhelming majority of my memories up until this moment, but only recently have I come to understand what my true bliss and peace is brought by.

            I was brought up in a family that has always identified as “Christian,” but it has never been instilled in my early life that it should be a priority to me. I have parents that I would say hold pretty strong morals and generally I would call good people. I was lucky enough to have a friend, Bryan, who has always kept me close though, and I would credit a lot of what I will explain shortly.

            Navigating faith for people who were not brought up in the church can very often be a challenging thing. It's something I’ve known for years was important, however the level of understanding I needed to fully grasp everything that it could bring me is something I did not come into until very recently. Back on the 11th of this March, I attended a young adults event called “One and All,” in San Dimas. The event is similar to any Sunday service, consisting of worship, a sermon, time for prayer and baptisms, and then more worship. (In that order) One and All was an event like no other, more intimate than any other church event I have ever been to. The seats were as close to one another as you could get while remaining comfortable; and the stage was placed high enough for everyone to see while being low enough for everyone to feel like they were still in the show. As the night began, my favorite worship song was performed, “Praise,” and immediately I could feel His presence in the room. The singing instantly transformed from watching the worship team perform a song, to everyone in the crowd of over 600 combining their voices into one for the Lord. The harmony of strangers, made into brothers and sisters by something bigger than DNA, filled the room and pushed out the weight of my life in that moment.

            I would like to note once more that my life has truly been blessed to escape any large tragedies; however seeing as I am human, I deal with much of the same stresses and anxieties that everyone else has in their day to day. My senior year of high school has been a more challenging year of my life, and having struggles with college, basketball, friends, and everything else in between has stacked its way into a weight I could not shake.

            After having a surreal experience hearing my favorite song sung in person at One and All, we received a beautiful message about the indiscriminately stubborn love of Jesus. The passion and genuine words spoken on His behalf touched my heart in a new way I had not felt in a while. I have been lucky enough to have found myself in a great community since around December,  joining a small group, becoming more involved in my church, and overall finding friends centered around Christ. Upon the ending of the sermon, came a time for prayer. Like many services, the church offered people who were willing to lead whoever wanted in an act of prayer. Although I felt it in my heart to walk up to the front of the stage and ask for help in my prayer, I simply did not have the courage to walk up with my collection of broken pieces in front of strangers. Though some may call it a coincidence, I believe it was by God’s providence that one of the friends in my small group asked me if I wanted prayer.

            Carine, someone held close to my heart, began to speak over my life as if she had been personally insulted by the thoughts I placed on myself in my head. As she brought me to our Fathers feet, I felt the warmth of a childhood blanket surrounding me. One by one, Clarissa’s hand, Claire’s hand, Mattew’s hand, Brooklyn’s hand, and most notably the love and warmth of the Father came over me. My vision had been overcome by my bliss turned to tears, and I felt lighter in that very moment. It was this time that reinforced the importance of Christ, but also taught me the meaning of walking with Christ alongside a community.

            I walked out of the chapel renewed and refreshed. Picture a time when you were younger, and you were holding something too heavy, and suddenly before you could notice who it was, your dad or your mother came and lifted the weight from your hand. Exactly like this, I no longer had my wrists being pulled towards the floor, and I could not help but smile. It has become ever apparent to me that doing life in a way that is meaningful is living my life with Christ. Living my life with people on their walks was a true community, and is no longer negotiable. By no means have I moved on from my old friends, and not even in the slightest do I believe a shared faith is any type of prerequisite for being a friend of mine; but now more than ever God has shown me his love is what I need. This experience has set a precedent for happiness, and to reutter for the last time: I have lived a happy life. However, no single moment can trump the purest joy that hugs me when I am with my community at the feet of the lord.

"New Directions" by Nikolas C

 

My path to discovering what truly interests me, and to which career I want commit my

life has been much less straightforward than I had thought it would be. Since middle school I had always been deeply fascinated by the brain, its complexities, and how it controls the way we think and the decisions we make. For this reason I had my heart set on a career in neuroscience, driven by my desire to understand the biological mechanisms of the nervous system, without having to deal with the issues of a medical patient. What I was not prepared for however was a seemingly unrelated event to my career path to open my eyes to another route.

            It started when I was given the opportunity to co-teach an AP Statistics class for my old teacher Mrs. Yarbrough. I first saw it as an opportunity to improve my college resume, while continuing to work with a subject I had grown to love. I had began to work directly with students every day, leading them through the seemingly overwhelming world of statistics. I found myself explaining concepts, guiding students through correct answers and thought processes, and assisting with everyday practice assignments. Though I held a great fondness of the subject matter, the true joy of teaching statistics stemmed from the interpersonal dynamics it entailed. I truly enjoyed helping students in a genuine, human way. I remember working with a student who frequently struggled with the course content, and lost confidence in their ability to perform well on the first semester final. Despite this, through their willingness to put in the effort and my eagerness to help, we were able to greatly improve their understanding of the concepts through practice, allowing them to pass the final. It is experiences like these I would never have been able to experience had I not taken this opportunity.

            Through this experience I had began to question my earlier aspirations, wondering if simply researching neuroscience would be fulfilling enough for me. I still held the belief that there is nothing more interesting than the brain, and how it influences who we are, but I had started to realize that it was the way in which this knowledge helps people that is truly gratifying. Continuing my research on the work of a neuroscientist made me realize that while it is incredibly important, it does not align with my personal values. The idea of pursuing my passion without the possibility of working personally to help others seemed half baked, and something I was no longer interested in.

            This change in mindset led me to fully reconsider my career, which allowed me to discover the field of neuropsychiatry. The field was a perfect integration of scientific research with the interpersonal skills of working with others. A medical field seemed fitting as I could provide care for those in need while maintaining my passion for the brain and its function. In contrast to neuroscience, where research is the primary (and essentially only) focus, neuropsychiatrists build personal relationships with their patients, having serious discussions regarding thought processes, and mental health.
            The more I reflected on neuropsychiatry the more it appealed to me, presenting itself as a medical specialty in which I could make a real change in people’s lives not only by studying the biological aspect of the brain, but also by talking to patients about emotional and psychological aspects of the brain. The ability to work with patients individually and assist them through treatment is something that enticed me in a way neuroscience did not, and this is a fact I would have never discovered had I not made the decision to co teach statistics.

            As I had mentioned, I initially saw co teaching as an opportunity to boost my academic resume, though it very quickly influenced a significant change in my life’s trajectory. It allowed me to discover that I had a passion for helping others, and not necessarily just for research on biological mechanisms. Reflecting on this journey taught me that our lives’ paths are never linear. What we think about something at one point in our lives is never set in stone, and is heavily subject to change as we gain new knowledge and experiences. It is important that we are open to change, and allow ourselves to be guided by our passion, even if it takes us somewhere different than we had originally planned. It is this openness to change that allows us to find true passion.

"A House Without a Home" by Abiodun O

 

            It was December 2023, and we were supposed to be moving into a new house. Most people think of the holidays as this perfect, cozy time with Christmas lights, hot chocolate, family traditions. But for me and my family, that month was anything but cozy. Half our stuff was in boxes, the other half was scattered between the old house and the new one, and we were sleeping on air mattresses. There was no tree, no lights, and barely any food in the fridge. I kept telling myself it was just temporary. That once we got through the move, things would settle. Maybe we could still have a decent Christmas.

Then my dad got sick. It started so fast, it didn’t feel real. One day he was just tired, and at first it just seemed like a bad cold, a fever, or maybe the flu. But within a couple of days, he was in the ICU with septic shock, and everything else just...stopped. I remember the way the doctor said the words “septic shock” like we were supposed to know what that meant. But all I heard was that my dad wasn't okay, and this could be really bad. Suddenly the stress of moving felt like nothing. Our almost-finished house didn’t matter. All I cared about was that my dad was hooked up to machines, fighting to stay alive. His birthday is on Christmas Eve, and that’s the day we’ve always made a big deal out of. He likes to go out and eat, his favorite spot is LongHorn Steakhouse. After we usually come back home and my sister bakes a cake, (even though baking isn't really her thing), and we all sit at the table watching him open his gifts, acting like we didn't know what was in it, when we totally do. 

But this time, there was no table. No cake. No gift. Just a hospital bed, IVs, and machines beeping steadily like a reminder that everything was different this year. My mom bought him a birthday card and set it next to him. He wasn’t even awake enough to read it. Christmas Day didn’t feel like Christmas at all. We weren’t in our new house yet, and honestly, even if we had been, it wouldn’t have felt like home. There was no tree, no dinner, no music. There was just silence and this heavy feeling in my chest that I couldn’t shake. I spent most of that day in a hospital chair, watching my dad sleep. Nurses came in and out, checking his vitals. One of them wore reindeer antlers, and I wanted to laugh at how out of place it felt. I didn’t, though. I just stared at the machines and thought about how weird life is, how fast everything can flip. One week we were unpacking boxes and arguing over where to hang the TV, and the next we were praying he’d make it to the new year.

That was the year I realized the holidays aren’t about the lights or the gifts or the house. It’s about the people. And when the person at the center of it all is missing or the presence that fills the room isn’t there, it doesn’t feel like the holidays. It doesn’t feel like anything. But as the days passed and my dad started getting better I started to see things a little differently. His recovery was slow, but steady. Every day he stayed awake a little longer. Every day his voice got a little stronger. By January, he was back, he was back in our new home, and everything started to feel normal again. One day while we were setting up, he made a joke about the hospital food and how it had a battle with his taste buds. When we finally set up the living room, and he sat on the couch for the first time, I felt something shift. We didn’t get the Christmas we hoped for, but we got something better in the end: we got him back.

That December taught me not to take anything for granted. When I think about that December, I don’t remember the decorations or the dinners or any of the stuff we missed. I remember how fragile everything is. How quickly life can change. And how even in the middle of chaos, like moving, hospitals, holidays, you figure out what actually matters. Family, time, and love, things that don't come from presents or parties. It wasn’t the house that made it home. It was him coming back to it.

 

“All Aboard to Uncertainty” by Ayaan M

            Picture this, it is January 2023 you are a 10th grade high school student way up in Toronto, Canada, one morning, your parents tell you that you will be moving to this place called Fontana in California because they found better jobs there. You were given five months' notice, your passport on the table, a suitcase containing your life, and a one-way plane ticket to uncertainty. Imagine all the thoughts racing through your head when that news was broken to you: “Are they joking? What will happen to my friends? What will happen to my grades? Will I be shunned for being different?”. These thoughts and questions swirl around your mind like a hurricane entering your brain, eventually leading you down a slippery slope of anxiety. However, deep down inside you shines a glimmer of hope in the darkness, dim but present.

 

I sometimes stop and reflect on just how much my life has changed in these past two short years. Two years ago, I was a happy student attending a Catholic High School in the suburbs of Toronto, Canada. My life consisted of the same group of friends, the same house I grew up in, the same community I called my own, and most importantly: the same sense of security that I’ve always felt from the moment I was conscious. Achieving high grades, being the number one student in my class, a student athlete, student council freshman vice president, what more could a high school boy ask for? All these achievements gave me confidence to be who I am and express myself the way I wanted to, I felt unstoppable which helped me carve a precise plan for the future. At the time, I was set on going to the University of Toronto as a Biology major and pursue a career in medicine. For a while, this felt like all there was to life, I would never leave my city and I will pursue success in the place I have always known, who wouldn't have thought that.

 

But, like a cinematic cliche, life had a different plan for me just at the peak of my life at that point. I remember the day vividly, the opening game of the sophomore soccer season and my first game back after suffering a severe injury freshman year. I was nervous but ready. That morning I woke up just a little earlier, I got ready just a little bit faster, and I was ready to walk to school just a bit earlier to get to morning practice. I just came down the stairs, a cold Canadian winter morning at 6 am, the Sun had not even risen yet and I saw my parents sitting down organizing many papers. I thought it must be taxes or bills, that boring adult stuff I thought. Little did I know about the news that would shatter my secure life into pieces. They told me clearly: “Ayaan, we will be moving to California at the end of this school year.”. Who knew that those 13 words instantly washed away the confidence I had, the security I had, the planning I did for my future, gone in a second. That day at school was the worst day of my life, it felt like time itself was slowing down and I was realizing how many individual pieces of my life are practically being flipped upside down simply by moving. I would have to start over again, make new friends, cement a new path, excel in a new academic system. After tasting the heights of high school, I needed to achieve that again, and that scared me like never before.

To be extremely honest, the preceding 5 months until my school ended in June flew by so fast. Yet everyday it felt like chasing something that was running away from me, no matter how hard I tried to delay it or distract myself, time passed and months became weeks became days until the day of my flight. A one-way flight, how interesting, I usually remember a flight to a destination and then a flight back to Toronto, not this time though. In my suitcase were a couple clothes, items of great value to me like my photo frames, jerseys, memories of my friends, that's all I could take. Fragments of a complete life were being taken across countries to try to piece together a new life in a new place. Stepping onto the plane felt like stepping on a spaceship to a faraway planet, anxiety coursing through my blood vessels yet my countenance was unwavered. In the air all I thought about was what everyone was going to think of a Canadian kid coming to school in California, I wanted to disappear into the seat. I remember landing in LA and feeling the thick heat, something I was not used to and there were so many people, far more than I ever knew. Settling into a new house I was yet to call a home was difficult, a bed that felt foreign but it was mine, so was everything else in this new house, waiting to be given emotional value to.

 

Now it is the first day of school: Etiwanda High School. At first I thought it was an odd sounding school but I remember walking in. First thing I noticed was that it was an outdoor school and it was huge. My old school had only 900 students, here I was faced with what felt like a gauntlet of 5000 questioning eyes. The new educational system was a complete overhaul of my past comforts, and the sudden increase in class rigor completely derailed my once confident stature. I remembered the academic valor I was shrouded with back home– the distinguished student I once was at my old school now struggled to maintain an average standing at my new school. I saw my once-confident grades fall into C’s and D’s, on top of the added realization that I was undercredited for my efforts back home. The blow to my grades felt like a blow directly to my heart. I sat alone at lunch for quite some time. I wanted nothing more than to be able to return to my old life and old friends.

 

But then again, like another cinematic cliche, my life began taking an unexpected turn, this time in the positive direction. I realized being complacent was not going to get me anywhere, I had to make myself known. First I addressed my academics, I remember voicing my situation to my teachers, especially in my toughest class: AP Physics. Mr. Schaina and I created a personal study plan, and I had fully committed myself to academic improvement. In addition to passing all my AP exams, my C’s and D’s turned to A’s and B’s across all my classes. Beyond the classroom, I built a web of goal-oriented peers who were more than just friends. These people became my support system and a method to foster mutual encouragement and healthy academic competition. Not only did I integrate within my school’s community, but I also excelled further in my classes. I realized my newfound success was the fruition of my effort to accept the challenge rather than avoid it. I also found success in the school community, I joined many clubs like Link Crew which helped me expand my influence past my class and onto other people as well. I made so many new friends, many of whom I share this very class with and I have nothing but love for these people as they all included me even though I was late to the party. I do not know where I would be without my friends here.

 

All in all, this rollercoaster of emotions that was moving here truly carved my path into the future and made me the person I am today. Without it, I feel like I would have become complacent and fall into stagnation. This life-changing experience opened so many doors that I could never have done if I remained where I was. If I could go back in time, I probably would not change a single thing because I would not be who I am today and I would never have met these amazing people I am surrounded by. That 15 year old boy who was once extremely anxious and nervous about this trip to uncertainty is now an almost 18 year old at an even higher level than where he once was, and his future, brighter than ever before, is the one I live for now.

"The Girl Inside" by Kaedyn H

 

I mistook her voice for my own. She never yelled, she didn’t have to. She whispered in echoes, threading the words of others through my thoughts until they felt like my own. I fed her without knowing, chasing people who echoed her back to me, mistaking pain for proof. It wasn’t until the breaking that I saw a glimmer. Not a glimmer of hope, but of a golden light, waiting to be remembered.

 

I was never an easy child. I was emotional, I cried for people I didn’t know. I was loud, my kindergarten teacher referred to me as a “chatterbox”. My heart was so sensitive, soaking in the words of others like a sponge, absorbing everything into my bones. I aimed to please, I lived for praise, I became a master at adapting. So when my kindergarten teacher told my parents I was a chatterbox, I began to talk less. She’s improved so much in class. Good job, we’re proud of you. My sensitive heart glows. I’m so happy they’re proud of me. But a storm was brewing inside of me. It happened slowly, a drip, a whisper, a glance I read too much into. No known start, no obvious cause. Words I never forgot, words no one remembers saying. And so I adapted. I became charming, easy, sweet, smart, kind, thoughtful, never too much. I learned how to make myself easy to love.

But it wasn’t love I was chasing, it was evidence. Something to prove the storm wrong, something to prove I was enough. So I set goals too high. You’re a failure, no wonder you couldn’t do it. I lied to my friends. You’re not interesting, no one is listening to you. I chased after emotionally unavailable people, unattainable people. Because I thought the harder they were to earn, the more valuable I would be if they chose me. When they didn’t, well of course they didn’t. Why would anyone choose you? You’re not enough. When I got older, I started pining, clawing after girls who didn’t want me. It even became a joke between my friends that I only liked straight girls, or girls who were mean to me. But I didn’t like them because they were mean or straight, I chased them because I knew they were unattainable. Their validation would surely prove the storm wrong, right? But it didn’t. Once I received validation from them, they were no longer enough for me. If a girl liked me back, I dismissed her. I didn’t have to earn her validation, so something must be wrong with her. It’s too easy. You’re not enough so why would she choose you? She’s strange, better ignore her. I thought of myself as a lost cause. Addicted to love, in love with every girl I met. As soon as I fell out of love with one girl I was in love with another. It wasn’t until the breaking that I saw the truth. The reason I had been like this for so long. The reason I could never accept love, true, genuine love.

 

I had mistaken the chase for tension. I thought longing was the same as love. But it was never love that I was hungry for, it was worth. Proof. A witness to say I was good enough.

 

It took me over a decade to realize that I was never addicted to love, I was addicted to performance. I wasn’t scared of being rejected, I was scared of losing the sparkle. And I wasn’t chasing validation to prove the voice wrong, I was chasing validation to prove the voice right. And it was only then that I could finally see that the voice wasn’t mine.

 

During the breaking, the time where I was falling for girls like I was slipping on ice, I realized I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know why I sabotaged myself. Why I do things I don’t want to do. So I paused, and listened, and I heard a voice. A voice I had silenced long ago. A voice that told me I was kind, I was good, I was enough. A voice that was there long before the storm. Before the words no one remembers saying. Before the lies, and the chasing. A voice the storm had hidden. I realized the same way people had power over me, the storm had power. It could only grow if it kept me down, so I wanted to stay sick, to listen. It was so loud that I couldn’t hear anything else, that my true sense of self had been pushed so far down I couldn’t see her anymore. It was the breaking that made me want to find her. That made me want to listen to her.

 

I now know that the voice is the small girl inside of me. The girl I was before I was called a chatterbox. Before the bullies and the scolding. The girl who cried for people she didn’t know. The girl who’s heart was too sensitive. The girl I had pushed down and ignored because the cloud told me she wasn’t easy to love. But she was never meant to be easy to love. She was never meant to be picked. She was never meant to be understood by everyone. To be validated. She was meant to be herself. Loud and sweet and kind. Maybe she was too much. But she was mine. All she ever needed was to be welcomed back. To be loved by me first. That’s where the true healing begins.

"The Life of a High Schooler" by Jonathan N

 

            The idea of progressing onto high school when I was in 8th grade was something I never thought would happen in many years. I remember taking the bus to school in elementary in the morning, my younger sister next to me, high schoolers filling up the rest of the bus. I always wondered what it was like to be like them, to be a high school student. Years passed by faster than anticipated, and before I knew it, I was already one of them.

            Pulling up to the arch on my first day of high school I was pretty anxious. The school was so big and it looked like having to navigate everything would take so much time. I saw one of my old friends from middle school and went to talk to him since he was the only one I knew that was around me. We talked and caught up a little bit, but as the bell rang, my anxiety skyrocketed. I didn’t know where anything was, primarily my first period class. I had forgotten almost everything about my experience at the freshman orientation over the summer. I scanned the QR code and scrolled through all the names, finally finding mine and saying that my first period was in J building. This was the beginning of my high school life.

            Walking into my new classroom, I felt pretty intimidated by all the new faces I saw. I was good at communicating with new people and making friends with them, but it’s always that first encounter that’s awkward in the beginning rather than feeling natural. Heading to second period, which was PE, I was pretty excited about the different activities they had planned for us, mainly because I’m an athletic person and I can’t sit still for too long if I have the opportunity to be active in something, even if it’s just running. I realized that some of the people in my PE class were from my first period class, so it was something I felt I had to be observant of. Throughout the rest of the day, it was pretty smooth and the day went much better than I thought it would initially be. Many days passed by, and I became friends with those people from earlier whom I noticed were in the same first and second period as I was.

            Sophomore year quickly came around, undoubtedly my most memorable and successful year of high school. I met a bunch of new friends who I’m still friends with right now. It was also the year I got accepted into the school’s track team, so I was basically a new member of their family. There were so many memories I had at that track, especially ones made with the people there. I remember on rainy days we would migrate to the K-lounge, waiting for the bell to ring to disperse the herd. We would be shadow boxing each other and recording all of our games. Occasionally, I look through all the videos of shadow boxing I have on my phone and reminisce on all the good moments we had together as a team and as a family.

            Junior year wasn’t as good as sophomore year. I had taken higher level classes, which were pretty difficult depending on the classes I took the previous year, and things between friends were a little broken at the time. In my opinion, it was probably my least favorite year of high school, but there were other things that made up for the difficult experiences. The senior friends I had were my best friends. I hung out with them almost every day and we made a lot of great moments with each other; they were people who I really felt comfortable with. The time spent with them before they left was long lived, as they still resonate with me in my heart even when separated from them.

            Pulling into the senior year was definitely an experience, as I never believed I would ever make it to my senior year and, ultimately, the last few months of my high school life. Sometimes I don’t know how to feel about my overall high school experience, but when I think more about it, it’s definitely something to appreciate because some people don’t get the opportunity to go to school outside and physically make friendships that could potentially last a lifetime. I’ll have to say, however, that the time I’ve been a high school student is definitely one for the books, and it is something I want to look back on to create a more successful lifestyle for college and the real world ahead of me after high school.

"The Life I took for Granted" by Hailey T

            "El avión a Guanajuato, México, aborda en 20 minutos" were the words I heard before my perspective on life changed forever. Growing up, I never knew the difference between a want and a need. I didn't know what it meant to want as my parents always got me everything I asked for. I got it all, whether that was new clothes, shoes, jewelry, or vacations. My biggest concerns were seeing what store I would go into next for my next set of clothes and deciding what ingredients to buy for the following recipe I would make. These things made me happy and were a part of my weekly routine. I lived in a world where my needs and wants were always met, no questions asked.  I realize how deeply removed I was from the realities many people face. Visiting Mexico for the first time wasn't just visiting another country and seeing the culture out there but also experiencing a new reality I didn't know existed.  I was part of a world where comfort was expected, not earned, and my worries were those of someone who had never faced real hardship.

            As soon as I stepped foot out the airport in Mexico I couldnt help but notice how different the air quality was. The air was thicker, had an unpleasant smell to it due to the pollution, and the weather was humid and sticky, nothing compared to back home. The air quality caught me off guard but as I observed the country more I noticed a lot more than just air quality. The buildings were smaller, with almost all of them being colorful but with faded paint, cracked windows, cracks, and overall having the appearance of an abandoned building, except it wasn't abandoned, and there were a lot of people in these buildings work. Stray dogs and cats were at every corner I turned, and the city was just dirty. I was in a world far from the one I had known. There were a lot of people on the street asking for money. The people on the street asking for money ranged from mothers with newborns to disabled people in wheelchairs, elderly, and children on the streets alone without their parents selling things.

            One of the people that stood out to me when I saw them selling candy on the side of the road was a pair of siblings. The boy was 11 years old, around my brother's age, and his sister was 8. However, you could see the exhaustion in their faces as if they were 20 years old. The weather was 62 degrees, and I will never forget what the little boy had on. It was a blue shirt with the number 81 on it, and it had holes everywhere. He was wearing blue jeans and grey shoes with holes in them. The little girl was wearing a pink sweater and black leggings that had holes in them, with sandals. Their appearance and clothes were enough to change my perspective, as I was covered up on this cold day, but their story changed me even more. Through hearing their story, I learned that they were working only to survive. Their parents were too poor to take care of them, so they had to sell candy to get money to buy food and water. The boy was carrying the burden of their survival on his small shoulders. As they spoke to me more, I started to realize how different their lives were than mine.

            As they spoke, my stomach twisted with a knot. I was stuck in a comparison of the reality they were living with my own. My brother at the same age was so consumed with school work and sports. He was worried about what he was going to eat for dinner or what game to play next. Yet here were these two kids working tirelessly to meet their basic needs- basic needs I had never given a first thought to. I thought of my brother back home, living life carefree and most importantly without having to think about how to get to tomorrow. I was consumed by an overwhelming feeling of guilt. How could I have taken my own life for granted like this? I thought of all the things I had complained about back home. The parents and their children when they would not find an out-fit suitable, or when they were tired of the same things day after day. These children.... their entire world was tied to survival ...and leisure: food, water, an extra day for the family.

            Prior to this trip, I would define my hobbies as engaging in activities that would satisfy my desires; baking, shopping and hanging out with friends. However, I came to recognize that not everyone has the privilege of worrying about those types of experiences when in Mexico many, if not most, are only concerned with the daily struggle for the basics. As I returned home and grounded myself in "normalcy," even engaging in more simple acts such as shopping felt like I was given a privilege. This trip taught me what it means to be humble and grateful, and I learned to be grateful for having food, clean water and the option to choose when and how to spend my time with "normalcy." I realized my comfort is not guaranteed and for some, they struggle with oppression and adversity to live another day, thousands every day. After being inspired from my travel to give back, I started to volunteer in my own community. This travel experience was not just a vacation; it was truly a humbling lesson that reminded me that while my world feels like "normalcy", millions of children and adults are still struggling for the basic necessities of life.

 

"Always Online, Rarely Present: The Duality of the Media" by Sascha F

 

Scrolling away–some say endlessly–relationships are hindered by the second as time passes, this new way of communicating is something I don’t fully grasp. While the complexities are evident in the pattern, I am still fathoming as to how an inanimate object replaces authentic socializing in so many ways. Even as our forms of communication have continually evolved, less face-to-face socialization and engagement has been curated because of it. These technological advancements have left me confused about what truly defines a meaningful connection. This misunderstanding of relationships has led countless others, myself being one of them, into an endless spiral. But recently, I’ve begun to notice cracks in that idea.

Cherishing photos of the past has indeed become effortless with present technology. These accessible photos of the past allow a greater appreciation of these shared memories with our loved ones. Memories serve as a connection that isn’t bound by words but the actions of our past selves. Yet, while it has become easier than ever to preserve these moments with a quick snapshot, I can’t help but wonder if these greedy tendencies to constantly capture these memories contributes to the distortion of genuine relationships. Priorities have been shifted as most try to capture the present within their smartphone rather than simply taking in the moment without the lens of a camera. Constantly viewing the world through a lens blocks the emotional depth of an interaction. While I find these actions very prominent within today’s society, I have never fallen victim to it. To me, it’s a barrier placed during the very act of photography, one that displaces you and the people you're with. A deeper emotional or social bond could have unfolded, yet it was overlooked by the pursuit of the perfect shot. A pursuit that is never ending, such a simple act that disconnects us from the experience we are trying to capture.

Open relationships created through constant texting or messaging often sparks an inner fear that these “friendships” may be a false sense of companionship. Face-to-face interactions downfall began with the uprising with smartphones, and with it, the decline of real trust. Commonly perceived among many that sharing updates via text messages all the time strengthens bonds, but it misses a huge aspect. Real in-person conversations, even with the convenience present within today's advancements,  still does not beat the traditional methods of communication. Where engagement is conserved among one another, without the distraction of a screen, that is where real trust is created. With the dwindling of this old-fashioned form of exchange this fear has become ever so prominent. Meaningful ties, thrown out the window, as one can be replaced simply over text. Due to the far-reaching influence of these new technological devices, trust is now replaceable. Constant availability may have created acquaintances in the process, but not personal affiliations that exceed these prominent devices.  As digital platforms become increasingly more relevant within the lives of many, they highlight how easily people can connect to one another. Accessibility has brought upon the downfall of these purposeful bonds, as the balance between online engagement and real-life associations has been disrupted. Coming across a false sense connection[1]  is eye-opening, highlighting the restraints placed on how far we can acquaint ourselves through the screen of a phone, unlike the limitless possibilities of in-person conversation[2] . As it not only makes it prevalent how fragmented our connections have become, but also disconnected they are, helping me realize the significance of what we lost in the process.

I’ve come to acknowledge that while technology may enhance communication, it can never replace the depth found in genuine, real-life interactions. As the years pass, the idea of relations transcending these new technological advancements is becoming rarer, as the line between online and real-life engagement continues to blur. But finding the harmony between these two worlds is what will truly deepen and strengthen these associations. Balance just doesn't maintain relationships, it elevates them. This is inarguably true, as I’ve had the experience of rekindling a friendship purely based on true authenticity and present engagement. I found that the bonds I built over the course of my highschool years are incomparable to the meaningful ties that were reignited at the start of my senior year. Structured upon both forms of communication, virtual and in-person, a balance that many have undermined, ultimately leading to the demise of many friendships. It is key to ensure that these advancements enhance, rather than hinder, these bonds. As the tempting nature of the internet is something that many fall victim to, the double-edged nature of the media’s influence. Finding the distinction between the two, a boundary that has become increasingly blurred and normalized in society, is crucial to truly finding a true meaningful connection in a world of people who are disengaged.[3]  After much reflection, in the end my deeper understanding of what truly constitutes a meaningful friendship has broken me free from this endless spiral.

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“Igniting into Service” by Kaori D

 

            Jolly Ranchers and a QR code changed my high school experience entirely. During club rush in freshman year, some upperclassmen officers tossed some jolly ranchers on my lunch table with a paper with a QR code that said “Join Etiwanda Key Club!” Prior to high school and even throughout a majority of my freshman year, I struggled with intense social anxiety. I hated the fact that I couldn’t participate in class without hearing my heart pounding as I searched for the courage to raise my arm. I dreaded presentations because by the end of it, I felt lightheaded from my whole body, especially my face, burning up as time went on. My palms would sweat to the point where I couldn’t place them on the desk without leaving a trace of visible nervousness for the people around me to see. That in itself was embarrassing enough. I decided to join Key Club because of its motto to build servant leaders through service (and a bonus trip to Six Flags). I was tired of the mental exhaustion, stress, and anxiousness that I went through every time I had to speak in front of people, and I knew realistically that later in life, communication skills and public speaking would be crucial to be successful.

I was given a chance to serve as an officer during freshman, sophomore, and junior year. I took advantage of presenting meeting slides every week by mentally preparing myself to think on the spot, eliminate filler words, use hand gestures without feeling awkward or forced, and feeling comfortable with moments of silence. Lieutenant Governor was a position that people usually tried to be elected for their senior year. My immediate reaction was, “I would never run for Lieutenant Governor.” It entailed serving on the California-Nevada-Hawaii District Board that has about 80 students on it to represent their different “divisions” which is made up of different Key Clubs at schools in your area. You have to plan Division Council Meetings where all the clubs meet once a month and give updates. You oversee service hours, fundraising progress, and assist over 100 officers. Our division is named Division 15 North with a mascot of the Giraffes, and we have 8 schools: Alta Loma, Chaffey, Claremont, Etiwanda, Los Osos, Ontario, Rancho Cucamonga, and Upland. These responsibilities combined with my fear to speak in front of over 100 people in person every month made me think I could never serve on this level. However, I finalized my decision to run. I told myself if I grew this much, it’d be a waste of potential and time if I didn’t at least try.

 

            Conclave (the name of the event where members of the division vote for their next Lieutenant Governor), was already here. I was never the best at writing inspirational speeches and that was what originally made me doubt my abilities. But then I realized one thing: when you truly love something, you don’t need to fake your passion in writing. It’ll come naturally. So, I brainstormed months prior. A hook. A theme. A resonating closing. My slogan was “reigniting the spark within our division” because we struggled with toxicity and unhealthy competition between our clubs the past year. The night before, I had a genuine, unusual excitement overpowering my nerves which carried over the next morning. Friends & family texted me good luck which made me realize what was actually happening and that it was actually reality. “What am I doing running for Lieutenant Governor? This is crazy.”

In the candidates room, I was antsy to present my speech already and it seemed meant to be because I was the first candidate to go. I used to be so nervous for caucus (Q&A session) that follows each speech, but from past practice from running for club positions three times, I channeled that knowledge on stage. When it was announced that I made it to the second and final round, I began to feel more nervous as I realized that this was my one and only chance to secure everyone’s trust in me. As I paced around the front of the auditorium foyer waiting to be called onto stage, I internalized that I only had one shot. I walked in with a sudden wave of sureness. I presented my speech and had an extremely smooth caucus session. Shortly after that, it was time for election announcements. My name was called and I heard everyone’s cheers echo the large theatre. I walked onto stage with the biggest, cheesiest smile and took pride in this huge milestone.

When I got home, I recited my speeches to my parents. Everything felt so surreal. I told them how this moment had marked the moment I have gone full circle in growing and surmounting my social fears. Forcing myself to be in discomfort during all those club meetings and not succumbing to the fear of embarrassment and ridicule felt so worth it. My progress wasn’t immediate nor drastic over the years. But every time I used a filler word, lowered my voice, or wanted to read off the slides to run away from making eye contact with the audience, I tried again the next meeting. This persistent mindset showed me that you are the only one standing in your own way, and that you are responsible for the outcomes you desire.

I am so glad I braced myself in freshman year to be uncomfortable so that I could develop the resilience I have now. It led up to me being able to enjoy my last year in the club that saw me grow the most, in the position of Lieutenant Governor of Division 15 North, “igniting into service.” I am especially grateful for those Jolly Ranchers and that small slip of paper with that QR code on it.

"Expect Nothing, Appreciate Everything" by Alisa L

 

In my early childhood years, whenever I saw something that sparked my interest, like a toy, my parents would always hit me with the phrase, “Ba Mẹ, ngày mai mua cho con nhé?” Which roughly translates to “We’ll buy it for you tomorrow, okay?”. It wasn't until this happened multiple times for me to realize that they were just saying that to stop my bickering. I envied my classmates for being able to get what they wanted but being young and naive, I did not understand how the world worked and more specifically, I did not understand the lessons they were trying to teach me.

 

My family constantly ingrained into my mind that money was valuable, hence why I grew up in a very financially aware household even though we had enough money to support ourselves. “Time is money” they always said, and I understood what they meant. My parents constantly worked throughout the week to provide for our needs. But I eventually grew to be ashamed of them. I saw my friends with their parents, how they were always present during their award ceremonies and how they were the ones getting picked up from school by them. Meanwhile I was getting picked up by my brother and my cousins. It didn't help that I felt different from my peers, most of the things I said about my lifestyle they couldn't relate to. I remember telling my classmates that my family is buddhist and immediately I was told I was going “down there” for not believing in what they believed in. Seeing their concerned looks because I was not part of the norm made me question my Vietnamese identity a lot.

 

Throughout my elementary and middle school years, whenever my friends questioned my family I would always tell them about my siblings. They were like my second parents. My siblings knew more about my likes and dislikes compared to my parents, and still do. They gave me the best advice and because they were my brothers, they weren’t afraid to give me the hard truth. My dad was hard to talk to because his tone would completely change what his intentions meant. He wasn't good at English so his tone came off as aggressive and demanding. I knew he never meant anything bad but it was hard to have a conversation with him because he only wanted his points to come across. My mom on the other hand was the opposite, she was a lot more understanding and I consider her to be my best friend even. We always had late night talks and she would check up on my mental health whenever she saw I was in distress. But even if this was the case, my brothers and I spent the majority of our time relying on each other when my parents weren’t present.

 

This also meant that I stopped expecting things from my parents, I never grew resentful toward them but it was easy to forget that everything they did was for our sake. But fortunately, by being more involved with my culture I gradually improved my relationship with my parents. Again, they were the ones that wanted me to succeed so that I could be happy in life. Its everyone’s first time living and even though they weren’t there when I needed them, I would hope I can repay them for all their hard work by growing and supporting alongside them once they do get to that point where they cannot provide for me anymore. Even though I gained a mindset where I should stop expecting a lot so that I wouldn’t be as disappointed with the results, It has taught me to consider newer viewpoints and to go with the “flow”, that I cannot control everything that happens to me but I can choose to make an effort to understand and to change.

 

"Black Friday Hero" by Carlos F

 

The first week of summer going into senior year and I already found myself with too much freetime. Beforehand I anticipated my summer to mainly consist of early morning football practices at school, spending time with friends, attending a couple of my friends’ graduation parties, and if I had time… maybe walk my dog. But, I also had bigger plans for my future, like my older sister; I also anticipated moving into a college dorm after graduation and I realized I needed to start saving money if I was going to make it happen. After applying to several different job opportunities, like retail, fast food, and lifeguard, I finally heard back from one of them. I ended up landing a job at Wetzel’s Pretzels in Victoria Gardens after I got hired on the spot after my interview. My manager was a bit skeptical at hiring because of my busy schedule, but nonetheless she gave me an opportunity. 

 

My first day on the job was in the middle of June and it was memorable just like any first day on the job should be. I showed up about 15 minutes early making sure I was prepared, and as I walked in I was greeted kindly by my other two managers who assisted me and brought my apron and all the other necessary gear. The apron felt a little stiff as I tied it around my waist, but I knew it symbolized the job I had worked hard to get.

 

Once my shift started my manager made sure to familiarize me with lots of the basic tasks and where to find things if they needed to be restocked. After that was finished she gave me the most simple task any new person gets which is sampling, which is something you’ll end up doing 70% of the time when you first get hired. My first shift consisted of sampling and expediting, helping the person on register by grabbing things for them. During my first shift I was able to familiarize myself with lots of my coworkers and soon found out they were all in similar positions as me. Possibly first or second job working here and just looking to make some extra cash for high school and college. It took me about a month to get to know all my coworkers but for the most part it seemed to be all college students with about 5 high schoolers like me looking to save money. During the summer I essentially maxed out my availability and I started to know my way around the store. I started to realize there was more to this job than just flipping dough and throwing it into the oven, it taught me how to interact with people and provide good customer service. Once school started I essentially wanted to only work weekends with my busy schedule during the week. From about the start of the school year till late November I kept hearing this buzz about how chaotic it gets around the holiday time especially Black Friday.

 

By the time Black Friday rolled around, I had already worked at Wetzel’s for about a few months. I had gotten pretty comfortable with the job from register, to ovens, and even gotten okay at flipping and twisting the dough which is primarily what managers do. But nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen. I had heard stories from coworkers about how crazy the mall gets not only that weekend, but the entire holiday season. Before we faced this madness of Black Friday, our main manager called for a team meeting the Sunday before black Friday. The mall had not yet opened but essentially the meeting called for us to show extra positive attitudes towards customers, and to go over procedures/expectations for the weekend. However, the most important thing she noted was that we needed to be upselling more than usual to maximize the store’s profit. As an extra motivation my manager told us that the employee who upsells the most and has the highest average ticket sale listed on the register earns an extra $200 for the next pay period . When the schedule got released it was revealed that it was going to be an all hands on deck situation because my manager had scheduled all 20 employees along with 7 of our managers to try and manage the crowd. One thing that had caught me off guard on the schedule however was that I was scheduled to work my first 8 hour day. I felt nervous and sick to my stomach the night before because I was already stressed about meeting college application deadlines and now I had to deal with this immense pressure of working Black Friday at an overpopulated mall. So much for a joyful and stressless thanksgiving break I thought to myself.

 

My scheduled shift was 1-9, so I decided to leave 30 minutes before my shift to account for the overload parking. I greatly underestimated how packed it was actually going to be. It ended up taking over 40+ minutes to find parking and just driving around over and over it midsts of finding a parking spot. Already 10 minutes late to shift I ran to the store across the mall all while tying my apron around my back and fixing my bandana on my head. The mall was buzzing and it truly felt like a movie scene where everyone was shopping in Times Square. It was so packed that they had actually shut down the street in front of the store in order for people to walk across and get around. The pressure grew as the day went by with countless orders of people, and lines stretching 4 stores down. It was getting out of hand, and it became especially nerve racking when customers would come to order and would be upset about their food because they had to wait 3-5 minutes for it to come out of the oven. As the sun began to set, the crowds did not, more people kept piling in and we began to get backed up on online orders. For the first half of the shift I was mainly just transferring pretzel bits to bags and stocking supplies.

 

But then my manager had let me know after I took my break about halfway through the shift I would be going on the register. I feel an uneasy pain go through my body after this, but I also knew it was a chance to represent myself in a way that I wanted to. I took a deep breath and slipped behind the counter and began to take orders. The first few customers were easy to handle, and I quickly got into a rhythm, quickly taking their orders and upselling when I could. "Would you like to add a drink to that?” or “Would you like to upgrade to a large one for only 50 cents more?” became second nature for me. But soon the line grew longer, and the pace picked up quicker. I had to think fast and keep track of multiple orders at once, and make sure I was entering everything correctly on the register. The sound of the register was constant and the counter filled with bags, pretzels, and drinks. I could feel my pulse quicken. There was a moment when a customer came up, frustrated that we were out of a lemonade because we had just refilled it. I quickly apologized and offered a substitute, all while processing the next order. The customer calmed down, and within seconds, I had them laughing with a joke about how busy we were. It was moments like that being able to handle tough situations with positivity showed how much I grew since my first day. Before I knew it my shift had ended, and my legs ache from standing so long and my throat sore from talking to so many customers.

 

After this week I had gone back to my usual weekend shifts and had been relieved Black Friday Weekend was over at the mall. One day during school I had been sitting in class and checked my email only to see that I had been the employee with the highest average ticket sale for not only that weekend but the entire month as well. My performance that weekend was unheard of and my managers granted me “Team Member of the Month” and gave me an additional bonus for my next paycheck. With the performance that I upheld during that stretch of November it granted me a $300 bonus for the next pay period which I was super excited about. However, what mattered to me most was the journey and social skills I developed throughout this job that I still hold. I think it’s an important part of everyone's life to experience some kind of discouragement from a complete stranger, and a first job is a perfect place for that. It teaches you to be more confident in yourself and to communicate effectively. I became more comfortable talking to people, whether it was helping a classmate or speaking up in group projects. This fast-paced environment teaches me to be poised under pressure and to stay positive when things feel overwhelming.