We’re only one song in and my throat is dry, is this going to affect my singing? Second song done, somehow this applause is making me more anxious. Third song done, just stand and smile while you wait for your que.

I’m already halfway through my solo and the mic only just got turned on. “Whatever,” I thought, “I just have to keep going.” This thought came to me right before a singer's worst fear, a voice crack. Pushing the worry to the back of my mind, I wait until I’m off the stage to think about it any longer.

I believe all of us are too dramatic. I thought about this “disaster” for the rest of the week, but I quickly realized no one else did. Not even my friends spent more than a day teasing me about it, nobody insinuated anything about my singing, nobody cared.

This is a lesson I’ve learned many times, and something I have to constantly remind myself of. We often do small things that stay in our head for hours, sometimes days, that don’t matter nearly as much as we think they do. Sometimes it’s trying to look photogenic or making a stupid mistake in a simple problem. The truth is, embarrassing things are a part of the human experience, thinking these moments are embarrassing is proof we’re using our brains.

I believe we should let our small worries pass, this experience taught me this lesson once again, and it gives me hope for the future because I now know if I focus less on small mistakes I can spend more time and energy on improving.

It was a chaotic and stressful day and all I wanted to do was to go home and sleep. But of course, I had Young People’s Theater. 

“Tonight won’t be that bad.” I thought to myself. “We just get to watch the actors run through the play.” That night didn’t end up how I expected it to though.

All the tech kids were trying to get into the rehearsal room but our director, Jenn, moved us to a dark and quiet room. I was confused as to what was going on. 

“I need everyone to understand the importance of your guy’s jobs,” said Jenn. I was even more confused. “She already talked to us about this before, why would she bring it up again right before the run through?” I remember thinking. 

“I was told that one of you broke a rule that I specifically told you not to do.” she says, a little louder than she was before. My heart instantly dropped, my body broke out into a cold sweat. I don’t really remember much of what she said after that because of how nervous I was. I remember looking around at all of my other teammates, knowing how disappointed they were going to be of me in a minute. 

“So who did it?” she yells, a little louder than before. “I-I didn’t think it was going to send-” I mutter “I don’t care what you thought. You broke a rule that I have talked to all of you guys about, multiple times. I specifically talked to you and Natalie about it a couple days ago too.” 

I took a picture of the ground for a BeReal, or something the day prior. Taking pictures are not allowed at all at YPT. But I knew that. I had to say more than, “I didn’t think it was going to send.” So, I knew what I had to do. “I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again. I’m so so sorry.” I said with tears filling my eyes. 

In that moment, it seemed that everyone were giving me icy stares. I felt like everyone in the room abhored me, I felt like they thought I was a terrible person. 

This was a quagmire, but we had to watch the run through.

I was surprised, as everyone left the room, Jenn pulled me aside and gave me a hug. I felt like I didn’t deserve it. Later on, when my mother, teammates, and director told me or said they were proud of me for telling the truth, I felt like I didn’t deserve it. 

I realized those couple days that integrity is incredibly important. If I would’ve lied about taking the picture and my director figured out, what would happen then? I would get into even more trouble.

This made me realize that honesty and integrity is much more important than I thought. Speaking the truth is valued by others and is important. This I believe. 

I still played soccer at the time and it was our last game of the season, so far we had gone flawless so the pressure was on, the score was unfavorably 1-2 for us. With only 4 minutes left on the clock I could feel the sweat dripping down my neck as I ran upfield with the ball. I looked around and everyone seemed to sheen in the sunlight. I noticed that there were two people in front of me defending the goal with the goalie. Off to the side was one of my teammates with no one on the enemy team covering them. I then had to consider my two options. 

I could pass to my teammate and let them take what could likely be the shot to tie the game and make it so our team went a full season without a loss. Or I could take the shot regardless of the two defenders and goalie between me and my target, but if I made the shot I would have been able to say I made the shot that saved the game. As I was back in first grade I wanted to be regarded as the kid who saved the game, this was the moment where I was the main character, it had to succeed. So with the possibility of high renown I ignored my teammate’s beckon of “pass to me, I have an open shot!” and instead took the shot myself.

I watched as the ball flew over the defenders and I could feel my heart soar as I thought “could this be it!?”only for it to land directly in the goalies hands. I could see the goalie release a heavy sigh of relief as I let out a sigh of defeat. Just a few seconds later the whistle to end the game blew. 

When I returned to my team I felt terrible, I wished that I didn't have to be there, I just wanted to cower away, I felt embarrassed and shameful. My stomach wanted to puke as I didn’t want to confront my team with what I had just done. I knew I should have passed but in the moment I was selfish, I wanted the glory. And I realized if I had just thought about it more I would have made a better decision.

Looking back I’m actually really glad that I had this moment, at the time I wished I could have changed something, but now I have realized that this moment was an important moment for me. Because of this moment I now think before I act and try to consider my options. Maybe this opportunity would be better for someone else, maybe I shouldn’t do this altogether, and other similar situations. Overall I think it has made me a much more aware person and because of this moment, I believe that using cooperation and patience will lead to success.

I believe in my prayer. If you truly let everything go for prayer, God will do the same for you.

It was a dark, warm night in the month of May. My dad insisted that we go to our local mosque, since it was the holy, Islamic month of Ramadan. While all the adults prayed, all the kids, including me, played. That night, I started to get curious about what the adults were doing, so I slowly drifted away from the kids to the adults.

I already knew how to pray, but I usually just hastily did it so I could go back to playing with my friends. However, this time, it was almost as if the prayer was beckoning me to come. I came into the prayer, and the result was shocking. What I was hearing was beautiful, calming, and soothing. 

I was instantly immersed in the prayer, and with nothing to do, I gave the prayer my full attention and it was worth it. I loved it so much that even after that prayer was over, I kept praying. 20 times. When we had to leave, it was about one in the morning, but I wasn’t tired. I stayed up, thinking about what had happened until my father came in. “What’s wrong, Sami?” I told him about what happened and he said: “It’s good to pray to your lord. If you stay on the right path, God will lead you to heaven. However, as soon as you start to leave prayer, the devil will take advantage of that, and start whispering in your ear. Then, bit by bit, he will drag you down into the horrible, sweltering hellfire.” 

After my dad was done, he turned off the lights.

I had thought a lot about what he said, and decided not to be one of those dragged into the hellfire. I started to love god, try to do the right thing all the time and abhor the devil- staying away from anything that could possibly be bad for me.

No matter how good you are, the devil will try to inveigle you to do bad. I sometimes feel this but when I do, I call upon my trusty shield, prayer, to protect me from the raining arrows of evil launched by the devil. 

Prayer will help me ward the devil away from me and help me focus on god. If I follow this, I can focus on God and going into heaven.

It was after dinner in the early forms of winter so the sun was already sinking beneath the horizon. My sister, brother, and I were sitting on the bench while my step-father was sitting in a chair across the table. My mother came into the room, the way she walked insinuated that something was going on. She then told us “Hey guys guess what?” We all took our guesses and then she finished by saying “We’re moving to Ann Arbor.”.  I felt my stomach drop as she said this but due to us previously living in Novi but still going to school here made it difficult in the morning getting to school but now I know that moving made it much easier.

After around a month of precarious packing and my hands being worn from constantly moving things into boxes, we were able to move to our new house, while it didn’t look or feel like our previous house it did make the mornings significantly less stressful.

At the time of learning that we would be moving I was quite sad that we had to leave because I really liked the house we were living in at the time. While packing I found myself frequently overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things we had to pack. 

The lesson I learned from this was flexibility in the way that now I know that even when we want things to stay the same we don't have control over that. I now believe in the importance of moving on.

From the time I was a little kid, I brushed my teeth every night before bed. It was part of my nightly routine, something I had established as important to my health and therefore I could not be lackadaisical about it. As I got older I developed other practices as well, like cleaning my room and doing my homework. My parents always pushed me to take a break in between things though, and to rest and relax between tasks. I never understood why I needed to regroup after doing something until I got my braces on again.

I remember how vulnerable I felt in the chair, feeling it’s old leather and stiff plastic behind my head. I remember the music playing in the background, old 60’s hits that my parents loved and I tolerated. The process was familiar to me as I had braces before, so I knew what to expect. When I had received all the instructions on how to manage everything new, I realized something would be very different from my past experience: I had more actual braces on my teeth so every step of my slowly perfected hygiene process would take longer.

The first few days I tried to follow all the rules and regulations exactly. I knew that getting my braces on would extend my routine by a few minutes because I would have to pay closer attention to detail, but I didn’t know how long it would truly take. Almost every night my parents would say “Are you finished yet? You need to get to bed,” and my response always was “No, I’m still flossing.” I would stand alone in the cold bathroom at night going through the process that took me an extra fifteen minutes longer and wonder if this great umbrage to my day was more redundant than helpful.

One night I was interrupted by some trivial thing, and it was a few minutes before I was able to get back to my routine. The next few days something similar happened, but I noticed I was more focused when I resumed my task when I was delayed previously. I knew from research and readings that taking breaks while doing homework was important and beneficial, but I didn’t think that theory applied to other parts of my life. However I now had my own evidence to prove otherwise and the answer became crystal clear: taking a “floss break” was helpful to me.

Soon floss breaks became part of my nightly routine, and something I did to refocus myself. It didn’t really matter what I was doing, whether it was making my lunch or packing my backpack, just that I was taking a break. After I had made these changes, I realized they were true for a lot of things in my life. Taking a floss break became a metaphor for slowing down and reassessing a task, and a reminder to look at the bigger picture in life.

I learned to not always be too focused on any one thing that I could not be in the moment, and to remember to simply breathe. I began to look at the larger outline of things when I slowed down, and I was able to comprehend more complex ideas. I learned to be patient and understanding because things became more open when I took a break. 

I believe in resting and relaxing, in clearing your mind and opening your thoughts. I believe that if we took more breaks we could be better versions of ourselves and that we can be more productive and open to new ideas. I believe in the power of a floss break.

I remember around 4th or 5th grade, I got a B for the first time ever, I also remember how I was frantically sad, filled with fear, anxiety, and anger. Back then, I remember going into my room laying on the bed and I cried myself to sleep. I was shouting, punching my pillow as hard as I could, then my mom and my dad came into my room, they kept calming me telling me that everything is gonna be fine, and that I should stop crying. I remember I was still laying on my bed refusing to get up, but then my dad said something, and I’ll quote him. “Remember son, in life things can be different than you expected, and you may sometimes like it or not. But it happens, and you can’t change the fact that it did happen, what you can do is that you can improve to make it not happen ever again.” Back then I didn’t get what he meant by that, I didn’t truly understand what he said, growing up and being more mature, I realized what he meant by it. 

I learned that sometimes you just can’t get certain stuff, or maybe you can’t earn it yet, I learned that instead of cowering and keep crying about it, that I should actually get up and improve. I learned about the value of “prudence” and I learned how to discipline myself and to always be cautious about making mistakes, and about being better than myself in the past. 

When I was a kid, after getting that B, I remember tears were all over my face, my pillow was full of tears, it was so soft it was a cloud. I was filled with anger, I was mad about everything, I couldn’t hear correctly because I was shouting, the world was such a calm place, it was so quiet, it was heaven. Crying felt really good back then, but now it feels even more better not crying and actually improving. I didn’t only improve academically though, I improved at how I treated others, and how I treated my parents, because if you think about it, now I know how people feel and that they maybe didn’t get what they wanted, and that’s maybe why you should treat them nicely. 

Since that day, I have always been thinking about success, now I see the world as the most peaceful place. I realized that being successful is how you can be happy in life, ur happy when you achieve your goals.

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I stared in horror at the sight before me. The vase, the beautiful porcelain vase my mom had brought back from her trip to England, was scattered across the oak floor in little shards of glass. I felt nauseous, the room was spinning and a headache stabbed at my temples. Just moments before it was intact, seated precariously above me while I drew in my dinosaur coloring book oblivious to its presence. My foot bumped against the unsturdy table causing the vase to plummet to the ground with a resounding crash. The vase crashed down directly in front of me, making some debris rebound off the floor onto my arms. I fled from the scene in a quandary of what to do leaving the vase dilapidated and broken. Moments later my mom arrived home from a long day of work and discovered the shattered vase. She convened everyone into the living room to ask who knocked it over. Both my dad and sister had reasonably good alibis. When it was my turn to speak I froze in panic. “I was in my room finishing my homework,” I lied. My mom later found out that it was me because my dad and sister could account for each other at the time that it was shattered and I got in trouble for lying instead of breaking the vase. 

This specific experience has greatly impacted how I function in my life and has helped me to understand that honesty will always prevail over lying. Lying will carry guilt and responsibility and from my personal experience, has additional consequences. 

More than a year ago, I used to regret something that I felt like I had the chance to get, but let go of it. 

I was in Edison, New Jersey during November of last year. I was participating in an open regional Badminton tournament, the place I was at looked big on the outside, even though it was small on the inside, but the place was very loud and energetic. It sounded like a crowd in a stadium chanting but a lot quieter. I had reached the quarter finals, and would have been ranked in the top 30 nationally if I won, but I first had to face an opponent that I would usually win every time I faced him. 

When we started, I was able to get the upper hand and gained a lot of points. I was able to make him struggle, and he lost a lot of points because of it, and it ended up with me winning the first round.

Moving on to the second round, I thought that I could use the same strategy to win the match, and not use all of my strength to compete, but he figured me out and started to make a struggle. I tried doing everything, but I just couldn’t find a way to get more points than him. I ended up losing a lot of points, resulting in me losing the round. 

Heading to the final round, I did whatever I could to try to get points, but my opponent always found ways to stop me and get the points instead. He really flared up my temper, and I lost a lot of points in rage. I ended up losing the match, and he started gloating and took umbrage of me losing to him after the match. 

Seeing myself failing to do something expected, I felt like I saw darkness and silence surround me. Because of this, he moved up to be in the top 30 nationally, while I went down into the top 60. But, I decided to keep on working, and trained a lot to improve and become better than before. After a couple months, I had improved drastically. I started winning a lot more matches, and I defeated more people than before. 

I learned one important lesson throughout my experience of losing: Never give up and never regret something that you used to regret a lot, because you can use it as a lesson and build on it to improve and become better than before. As Katherine Mansfield said: “Never regret and never look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can’t build on it; it’s only good for wallowing in.”

It was a cold mid-winter night, and it was the perfect night for a movie. Cold and frosty outside, with a pitch black sky. Me and my family were eating dinner, and my dad made a suggestion. “Does anybody feel like watching a movie later?” My mom and sister had both wanted to, so I shrugged it off and said, “Maybe.”

Later that night, they were starting to watch the movie. My dad called out, “We’re starting, last chance if you want to watch!” My dad had told me when we were going to watch the movie several other times as well. I just bluntly said back, “Okay.” That's all I said. A bland boring response, like I didn’t care. Almost as if I was trying to abhor him.

I spent that night not really doing much of anything. I did some reading, and I played some video games, but something just didn’t feel right. Something felt so out of place, as out of place as a fish out of water. I felt something too. I felt regretful. I was starting to wish that I had said yes to watching that movie. Even though me and my family have watched countless other movies together, I felt like I had made a bad decision.

That day, I learned a valuable lesson. When you throw away opportunities to spend quality time with your family, you’re just hurting yourself. This isn’t even necessarily just about family either. It’s about anyone that you enjoy spending time with. When you spend time together, you create a tether between each other. Creating those bonds is worth your time. So go watch that movie.

 My parents then called me and asked “Asim did you finish your homework?!” I couldn’t talk, If I had said no they would get mad and not let me play 2k anymore. So I decided to lie and say “Yeah!” thinking “they won’t find out anyway.” That's what I thought until I heard my dad say “come down here and show it to us!” I didn’t know what to do, if I told them that I lied they would get more mad so I decided to show my homework from a couple of weeks ago. As I went to show my parents the homework I kind of felt guilty for lying but it didn’t stop me from showing them the old homework. When my Dad took a look at the homework he realized it was from a couple of weeks ago and that I wasn’t being honest. I felt an instant gush of guilt, embarrassment, and regret, I could feel sweat running down my forehead. I thought my parents were going to yell at me and ground me but instead, they told me “ Things like this can happen, but always remember telling the truth and being honest is always better than lying and breaking someone's trust. You can fix your homework, however, fixing somebody's trust is much harder.” After that I went back into my room and reflected on what I did “I should have never lied to my parents, to begin with, I thought.” 

From this day on I learned a valuable lesson. Telling the truth is always better than lying, since then telling the truth has helped me get out of bad situations and helped me build better relationships with people around me by earning their trust.This I believe in always telling the truth.

I was sitting in the classroom.  It was cold and cloudy outside.  Small snowflakes floated past the window,  looking like little pieces of cotton. 

“Beep,” A message appeared on my computer screen.  “You died.  Try again.” I had almost beat that level! 

Suddenly, my teacher stood up. “Attention people,” he said. “Remember that this project is due on Monday. You only have the rest of today, tomorrow, and the weekend to work on it.” He sat back down. “You can get back to work now.” 

I felt a pang of guilt in my stomach. We had been given the entire week to work on the project, and aside from a little research, I had barely started. “It’s fine.” I told myself. “I still have the weekend.” I went back to playing my game.

That weekend, my family drove up north to visit my grandparents and cousins. It was a lot of fun. My sister and I built a snow fort, and had a snowball fight. We played with my grandparents’ dog and drank hot cocoa. 

On the drive back home, we were all relaxing and listening to music. Sunlight streamed through the window, directly onto the page of my book. “Molly’s model volcano caused some umbrage between the students,” I read. “It was large, and she had spent all night working on it. Today, all of them would present their projects for the class.”

 Projects… Projects! I had completely forgotten about my project! It was due tomorrow! How would I finish in time? I started freaking out. “Okay,” I thought. “I’ll just do it now.” I searched through my backpack for my computer. My backpack was a black hole, unwilling to release it. Finally, I found it. I opened it up and clicked New Slide. A message popped up. “No Internet.” I asked my parents if they could set up a hotspot, “Just for a little bit to finish up my project,” I told them. They reluctantly agreed. I worked frantically to finish the project. I added pictures and citations. Finally, I was done. It probably wasn’t as good as it could have been, but it was completed. 

Afterward, I felt bad that I had wasted all the work time our teacher had generously given us. Even though my project turned out well, I still think that it’s important to do your work when you have time. Apart from giving you more free time and opportunities outside of school, it saves a lot of stress.

 Around 4 years ago my parents were out for groceries, and my sisters were out at swim practice. That led 9 year old me stuck home alone. The house felt like a museum, I could still hear the water dripping from the sink all the way downstairs. 

Not having a clue what to do, I decided it was best to go on my ipad and relax. 

3 pm turned into 4 pm, and 5 pm quickly turned into 6 pm.  I was an early bird so I got to bed early. My eyes, super worn out, were taking a final blink until.. Click! Click! “What was that?” I asked myself slowly, turning towards my two cats. Click! Click! It was coming from the front door. 

Immediately I grab both of my cats and bolt into my parent’s room. I cowered into my parent’s blue bed sheets that covered me like an ocean. I sat there in silence waiting. Constant key clicking could only mean one thing. Burglars. Scared to death, I realized I was in a big quandary. Should I man up and check the peephole and call my parents or just hide? Still scared, my cats started snuggling up against me and were purring loudly. 

Everything froze, in a good way. I stopped freaking out, calmed myself down with the help of my cats, and instantly felt relieved. I slowly but surely got out of my parent’s bed making sure I had made no noise. I put on my fuzzy slippers and silently crept towards the door. A huge thud! came onto the door. Most likely a very aggressive knock. Going onto my tippy toes I finally checked the peep hole. Turns out my family was just trying to open the door and had forgotten their keys.

I believe a little push can go a long way. Without my cats I wouldn’t have had the courage to open the door and let my family inside the house.

The scent of mint lingers in the fabric of my binder. Over time I’ve seen people do wildly different ways to get some. Some attempt to inveigle me into giving them some. And they leave with gum. Sometimes in a group one person asks for a stick and a storm of “Can I get gum?” comes at me like lake effect snow in Holland (MI). Some slightly clever ones deduced that they can just show up in front of me looking like an orangutan waiting to get fruit, and get gum. But the most clever ones realized they just have to ask. They don’t have to claim we are best friends, join a swarm, or look like an orange tabby cat waiting for food at 3:00 AM. They just ask, receive, and leave. No matter who you are or what you did, I believe you deserve something good to happen in your day.

Sometimes we forget what life was like for people long ago. In Berlin after the Nazis fell and Allied powers took control, some people were living off of only 900 calories per day. Many were living in bombed out husks that used to be buildings. Then the Soviets under Stalin blockaded Berlin causing even more hardship for the people. The only thing that kept the city alive was a massive airlift of supplies. Plane engines sputtered and roared to life as the Allies desperately tried to bring in 4,000 tons of supplies per day. Transports were filled with coal and flour and sent to a dangerous and run down airfield. In the midst of all that, one pilot saw a group of kids watching him and the airfield from the fence.

 He spotted them and went over to speak with them. He knew kids like candy and that for over 2 years the shops in Berlin did not have any chocolate. So he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out 2 sticks of Wrigley’s Doublemint gum. He broke the pair in half and gave them to the kids. The kids who had gum gave the wrapper to the kids without, so they held the wrapper up to their nose and just smelled its minty scent. The pilot was moved by this so he made little packages of candy with parachutes made out of handkerchiefs. Then he dropped them out of his plane. But the kids wouldn’t know which plane he was in, so to signal it was him he would wiggle the wings before landing. This one act of giving 2 sticks of gum to a group of children ended with a total of 23 tons of chocolate being given to kids in Berlin. That one pilot’s name was Gail Halvorsen. He later went on to advocate for humanitarian aid to be given by the U.S. to other struggling areas. 

After seeing that one man’s story I decided to carry on his legacy. I know I’m not going to carry out an act as big as the one he did, but I will still leave something behind. In the vast ocean that is our lives, sometimes when you spot another vessel near and send something good their way. It won’t matter in the grand scheme of things but in that one moment it must mean something. If it didn’t then why would you do something if it meant nothing to anyone. 

I know that these small acts on their own don’t mean much, but collectively they make life a little better. Maybe someone else at some point will carry on what I helped to continue. 

The sound of a gum wrapper crinkling gives me hope. Hope that this world could become a slightly better place. One where people help and are kind to each other. I know a place like this probably cannot exist during my life. But I can help get it a little closer to that by just showing compassion to those other humans on the one rock we call home.

My sister and I have always been pretty close at times, and kinda enemies at others. But I think it is the times we are closer that are better, just maybe. There are times where she does very annoying things and I get very angry, but there are also times where she does nice things. 

One time we were about to go on vacation. I don’t know why, but the night before we were fighting. The trip was a 15-20 hour car ride to somewhere like Texas. Neither of us were looking forward to sitting in a hot car for that long. And to make it worse, my nana was coming who would take up another car seat. Not that I don’t like my grandma, but that means I would have to sit in the very backseat, squished between suit-cases and who knows what else. To make it even worse, the AC vents were blocked by suitcases so I was getting as hot as an oven. I knew it wouldn’t work but I still asked my sister ‘’can we switch spots” like 5 hours into the trip. Of course she said “no”. I then started to badger my dad “can I please sit in her seat” I said. He finally gave in. We switched and I realized, this seat isn’t so great. It was kind of nice being in all that luggage. Plus, I was starting to get car sick and feel noxious. We switched back and it was much better. After that we didn’t argue anymore on that trip and it was much more fun with her than without. 

The experience helped me to learn that I shouldn’t fight with someone over stupid thing. Now my sister will be somewhere else at college in less than half a year, and I think I should have spent more time being her friend rather than an enemy. I believe friendships are things you should cherish, and never take advantage of.

It was snowing outside, and the ground was covered with snow. The snow is like a white blanket. I was doing homework because I had to. Though I could not focus on my work because all I could think of was how to convince my mom to let me go to the movies with my friends. I knew if I did, she would say is your homework finished? If I said I finished it, she would never find out.

I made my way to the kitchen, she was cooking. It smelled delicious. She noticed me and gave me a spoonful to try it, it tasted salty though I didn't care. “I finished my homework,” I said. “Good,” she replied. “My friends are going to the movies, can I go with them?” I asked. “Show me your homework first”. She responded. I just stood there looking at her because I didn’t think she would ask me to show her. “Why are you lying? She questioned me. “I know you don't have it done, if you wanna go you have to finish it," she said.

Days passed, and I felt like she didn't trust me as much because she didn't talk to me often anymore, and we don’t go shopping together anymore. It was like she built a bulwark around us. I made sure to check my food before I eat it because it might be noxious. 

I believe in honesty. I learned I should not lie if things don’t go my way. You can lose someone's trust from dishonesty. You don't wanna lose their trust because getting it back is very hard. If I told the truth, it would not go my way but when I lied I made it worse. Because then my mom did not trust me. I believe that honesty should come first even if you don't get what you want.

 As A kid I was a shy, Laconic person, and I stayed to myself. I only talked to people close to me like my Mom, Dad, Brother, A few of my Cousins, and my Grandma. But I didn’t talk to them that much and that was a very bad mistake. I didn’t pay that much attention in general to things and especially at home it was worse. If I wasn’t in my own world at home I could have deduced what was happening between my parents.

My Brother told me that my parents argued a lot and it was really bad but I only remember and heard a few things. But I always thought after they argued everything was all good, at least that’s what it seemed like. But soon it got worse, The bond my parents had seemed like it just shattered in an instant. It was like an hourglass. The sand was once constantly dripping but then it was down to the last drop of sand and the hourglass was never turned over again. I should've realized what was coming since this was a huge clue but I was too delusional to see the truth.

One day after school when I was about 7 or 8 my Mom took my Brother and I out to eat. About 20 min into us eating my Mom starts talking about Her and my Dad. I could feel the tension in the air and I felt a drop of sweat drip down my face. It started to get very hot and my Brother and I both looked at each other wondering what was going on. Then my Mom said, “Your Dad and I are getting a divorce.” My Brother and I instantly started crying. My Mom hugged us both but that didn’t help at all. It felt like the world had just ended and my body couldn’t stop shaking . It felt like water was just running down my face but it was just the heavy tears I was shedding.

Back then I didn’t know why they divorced, I thought it was unfair to me and they were in the wrong. But I’ve learned that sometimes holding on does more damage than letting go. I’ve also learned that I should cherish the moments with my family and appreciate the value of Family. This moment in life has caused me to change in so many ways. When I'm with my family I try to spend as much time with them and just enjoy being around them. I respect people's opinions more and I don't overreact as much to things that bother me. I pay more attention to things now in life that I wouldn’t pay attention to in the past.

This has changed my mindset a lot because in the past I thought everything would go my way with no problems. But now I know that things aren't always gonna go in my favor and I know there's going to be some very negative and low points in life but I can’t let it affect me. I also think in the perspective of others to see how they see things and how they feel about certain things. 

I believe I shouldn’t take things for granted in life and enjoy time with people I care about. I should really care about the value of Family and friendships because family members and friends can go away In an instant and be gone forever.

Whenever there was a problem in life I remember this Lesson, the day was dreary and it was raining very hard. I sat on my bed thinking to myself about all the changes that occurred the past year. It was a sort of quandary experience. The Pandemic had started last year and it was a vivid experience straight from some sort of movie the faces of everyone cut of by a blue mask. It happened just after the funeral of my grandfather who died of lung cancer. He had been in and out of chemotherapy. I remember that Funeral vividly the cathedral walls, the tinted glass and the background music in the background. I remember the time after the news had been running and all they ever wanted to talk about was this virus going around China I recalled  saying “there would no way that could spread over here” I was wrong in next week the entirety of my school closed down everyone was worried about the air thinking taking a breath of the noxious virus could harm the people they love it was another change curved right at us. My cousins had been staying with us as well at the time they had been testing my patience I was used to staying with my family of four but now there were six in the house one day one of them was angering me so I yelled at them and they backed away I was my tolerance to these thing since everything was changing I was in a dark place nothing seemed to be worth anything if there wasn't a person to share it with. I learned later on through my mother that Flexibility is important and that its a key to persevering through dark times in life I have kept this lesson to heart since that day throughout the entirety of the pandemic everyday if there was problem I could persevere I connect the Value with the saying 

“life is like a box of chocolates never know what your going to get” 

12/12/22

Taylor

3rd Hour

Boardwalk

I do not remember the year but I was about 4 years old and on a fishing trip. My name is Mason Scott and I believe in the importance of pain. On this fishing trip we were wearing hats, vests, green t-shirts, and khaki shorts. We were at Gallup Park on what I think was a boardwalk. I was running straight to the grill in which my mom was standing near to ask her for bait when I tripped. There was a loud THUD and I felt a sharp pain in my knee. The horrible sharp pain was caused by a piece of the dock or as I like to call it, shrapnel digging its way deep into my knee. I told my mother and she tried to pull it out with tweezers but it only caused the chunk to drive its way deeper into my knee. The pain was a knife to the knee. My family rushed me and my dilapidated knee to the emergency room. We sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes or so and finally got called back. I sat on the bed and my family sat outside for what seemed like an eternity as I received twenty two stitches in my knee. I left feeling precarious about every step, I was feeling dangerously close to collapse when my mother snapped me out of my haze by stating “You did good!!!” while we were leaving. I did not feel so sure, especially by the time we reached the car, opened the doors, and got in. We drove to our house and walked inside, had dinner and went to sleep. The next day I had busted the bandage that was over the stitches and my mom put a new one on. Moral of the story? Watch your step.

 Picture this. I was five years old when my mom and I moved from Turkey to Ann Arbor. My dad had to stay behind because he needed to work. Nevertheless, I was still so excited to live with my grandparents, and to see my uncle. For reference, I have seen my grandparents in person because they used to visit me in Turkey. I haven’t seen my Uncle in person, only on Facetime.

 So I finally met my uncle. Over time, we become best friends. We find common interests, like how we like the same video game, or how we both agree that Little Caesar’s Pizza is the best pizza franchise . I know this seems like a very shallow relationship, but keep it mind that I was five. That relationship was so important to me, and it still is very important to me. This relationship stays the same over the span of 7 or so years. It’s great. My uncle visits us every weekend, we have lunch, or brunch, or just spend time together.

 Flash forward to a couple of months ago. It’s some day of the week, I’m just relaxing, doing whatever. My mom walks in my room and tells me that my uncle is moving away. I am crushed. I just stand there. Frozen. My whole being is shattered and I could feel my heart sinking to my ankles.

 A couple of days later, it is the weekend, and we’re at my grandparents house. The normal time and place my uncle visits us. It stings of familiarity and sadness. We greet each other normally, and we all sit down. The house smells amazing because of my grandma's cooking. Everyone acts like it’s the orthodox family gathering. It wasn’t. My uncle was so important to my grandparents, and they didn’t show a hint of sadness, No one acts sad. I couldn’t tell if everyone was just forming a bulwark around their emotions, or the sadness just hadn’t hit them yet. Either way, no one was sad.

 Then I come to the realization that I’m not sad either. I can’t explain it. I am just not sad. I wonder if anyone else felt the same way.

 So we say our goodbyes. My parents say stuff like “I hope you visit us, or we visit you in California.” The only thing I can say is “Bye.” That’s all I can say. I literally can’t say anything else. I don’t know why. So that happens, and life goes on.

 Whenever I try to remember this event, my mind is just blurry. I can picture the event, but just barely. Everyone’s faces are blurry. I can’t picture their emotions. But it’s like I’m there. I can feel the soft an textured couch under me, I can see the whole house, with the strange blue and red dragon statue glaring at me out of the corner of its eye, perched upon the glass shelf. 

I always have this sequence of events in my head. My uncle always spoke of moving, but I never thought he would actually do it. So that’s why I believe that you should always be prepared for the unexpected.

 This I believe

Honesty. A very powerful, yet usually overlooked part of life. I believe in the power of honesty and dishonesty.

When I was about seven or so my younger brother, Peter, and I were taking turns hitting a baseball. It was my turn and after a few questionable pitches from my 5-year-old brother, he finally threw a good one, and the bat connected to the ball with a satisfying dink. The ball flew over the old, rotted fence as Peter began to cheer. Then we hear it. The horrible crash of our living room window. Then came the calls from our mom who was sitting on the front lawn. “Jonah, Peter please tell me that wasn't what I think it was.” She said in a calm voice which, surprisingly, is scarier than her yelling. I instantly dropped the bat knowing if she saw me holding it she’d know it was me. Peter, on the other hand, being a clueless 5 year old walked over and picked up the bat. Just then the gears in my head began to turn. “This is the perfect setup,” I thought to myself “might as well lie”. When mom finally opened the creaky door to the fence, I prepared myself. “Ok. which one of you broke a window?” she said, already recognizing the sound.

“It was Peter!” I quickly replied. “But don't punish him. It was my fault. I was the one who decided to hit towards the house.”. “That's sweet” She replied, “But I'm not gonna punish either of you too severely. It was an honest mistake. You’re both still getting extra chores though.”

This story is the first time I remember lying to someone. Although I'm sure I had lied before this, this is the first time it really affected me. I felt like the scum of the earth. I began to abhor myself for what I had done. I later confessed to my mom, who then revealed she had known it was me the whole time. That she knew I would confess eventually. And when it came to the window, she was not too mad as it was an orthodox event with 7 kids. That gut-wrenching guilt is quite possibly the most mentally torturing thing a person can experience. After that day I vowed to never lie (At least to my parents) ever again. Now I'm not gonna say that I haven't lied since then. A little white lie never hurt anyone. But I have bettered myself by lying as little as possible. Because the power of honesty and dishonesty is more than anyone can ever comprehend.

I still remember the words of my coach and they have helped me through some tough times. After this event, one of my core philosophies is now that you should always look for the light in a dark place even when you can’t see it at first, because often it will guide you out. 

In 4th grade, I joined a LEGO robotics team. We were doing this for the first time and thought it would be easy and that our team would win easily. When we first went to the mock competitions, our team did very badly. We all realized that we were wrong and that the robot and the code needed to improve. On the day of the competition, the team gathered and we saw a sea of people. The team began to become nervous as we watched the other active teams continuously testing and trying to do better than they currently were. We could only cower in our corner of the building until the matches started. The matches started soon after and we felt more and more pressure on us as we watched the other teams working extremely fast and well together. When it was time for our first match we started our robots and heard whirring and clicking as they did the jobs they were made for. After all the matches were over the results of the competition came out and we were at almost the bottom of the leaderboard. Because we had lost against every single team we faced against, we did awful only not being at the bottom because of other things such as the poster. We came back home engulfed in disappointment. On the way back home the team leader said,“We’ll try better next year.” So, we waited until the next year to try again.

The year passed by quickly and the next year came and with that, another season of LEGO robotics started. The same people got onto the same team as last year. We got together as a team and used the mistakes from the previous year to make the robot better, taking the ideas from multiple sources and making our own adjustments to the robot to make it better. We went to the mock competition and won every single match. As the day of the actual regional competition came closer, our meetings became longer and we had worked harder than ever. When the day of the actual competition arrived, we were more confident than in the previous year. When it was our turn to go into a game, we set up the robot and the second we clicked the start button, the match started. Our team won most of our matches easily only losing to one other team. Soon after all the matches were completed, the results came out. Our group scrolled through the leaderboard and found our team name right next to second place.

That year, we made it to the states round and although our team couldn’t make it to nationals, we made it to 4th place. Though we were sad that we couldn’t make it to the next round of the competition, we were satisfied with how far we got in the competition that year. We learned from our mistakes from the year before and improved. I use this lesson that I learned every single day whether it’s at school or at home to improve myself, the things I do, and the things I work on. I believe in learning from my past mistakes.

After being convinced by my dad with the words, “Do a sport, you quit swimming, your friends don't even want to hang out with you. You get closer to people by spending time with them. You see Hannah, you're only close to her because you spend a lot of time with her and she's your neighbor! Join cross-country.” Later in the week, after school had ended, I went outside where the club was held and to my surprise it was still letting people join. I wrote my name in a blank spot on the bright pink sheet that was on a clipboard. It was on a foldable table next to it were more clipboards that all had the same sheet of paper but in other bright colors. I looked around to see many of my friends which made the whole thing of joining a sport much better. I also realized I could ask for a phone with this approach. I would tell my dad to get me a phone for joining cross-country. 

Two months go by and I ask my dad for a phone again, and he replies,”You're not running for the right purpose plus you're irresponsible.” I was stupefied by his reply, he had made a promise to me and I never got the phone I really wanted, I ran for two whole grueling months for it! 

The new season started and I joined it because it may be tiring and I do dislike it. But it is important to persist because sometimes things don't go your way. If you try hard enough maybe next time it will.

It was a dark gray sky with white fluffy cotton ball clouds in the sky. I was at the age of 5 and was with my mom, godmother, and her two kids, Alexia and Tony, my best friends. It was a chilly fall day and we were all at an apple orchard. My mom and godmother were at their own little tree picking apples and laughing while the three of us were at ours. Tony was at the top of a tree throwing apples down at me and Alexia. They were my favorite apples, honeycrisp. All of the apples were engulfed in a painting of red and green ombre with a shiny exterior that reflected in the sunlight if you angled it just right. “Kirra, want to switch jobs?” Tony asked. Unfortunately I had cold feet and told him I was going to continue with my job of catching the apples and putting them in the bag. 

After we had all the apples we wanted we decided to eat some of the apples that couldn’t fit in the bags. I took the most perfect apple I could find and put it to my mouth taking a big bite that sounded as if you were walking across a fresh blanket of snow. After I took the apple away, that's when I noticed it, blood as red as the juice of a cherry tomato and something white poking out. I screamed and my mom and godmother came over in a frenzy. But when they looked at my apple they started laughing again. My mom explained to me that when you are old enough and your baby teeth are all grown in you lose them and in place come your adult teeth. Then Alexia chimed in and started talking about the tooth fairy. A magical fairy would take your tooth if you put it underneath your pillow at night. Then, he would give you either candy or money in place of your tooth. 

After this hundreds of questions were exploding through my head. My godmother told me I was lucky that my tooth fell out so easily and how some people have a harder time getting their teeth out. Some have to tether it to a door knob while someone else closes the door yanking the tooth out. I wasn’t even paying attention to how gruesome that sounded, I was just imagining other ways to lose my teeth in the future, what the tooth fairy looked like, how he’d come into my room, and if I would ever be able to see him. My imagination was running wild after hearing this. 

As I’m older I realize most of the time when we were kids we had euphoria while or because we were using our imagination. It also helped me form those questions that kept me believing and wondering when I learned the tooth fairy existed. I believe imagination isn’t just about little kids but rather as a little kid you form a habit of using your imagination as you grow older. Imagination helps us on a day to day basis giving us ideas, questions, and fantasies. What if the stereotype that kids are so happy and the adult world is unhappy is because we don’t believe in using our imagination like we did when we were younger? I believe imagination is a way of life we humans didn’t know we lived. 

I had gotten my horse, Jorns, to hopefully go to big “A” rated shows and win. But, I had a lot more work ahead of me than I thought. 

While I was away at camp, Jorns ran through twelve panels of fencing. He involved himself in idiosyncrasy behavior. He was bleeding when they found him. The vet didn’t know if he’d make it. The blood looked as deep as a red cherry. It looked like he had gotten mauled by a dog, is what I was told.  I was five hours away when this happened. As I walked into his stall for the first time, I winced. His leg looked like the leg of a pig because of the swelling. There was blood plastered on his face, he flinched when I tried to touch him. I felt awful. He had always been there for me, but I couldn’t be there for him.

 He eventually pushed through. But the specific question was: will I ever be able to ride him again? I was immensely down on him because my parents bought me this expensive, well-trained horse and now it’s all been put down the drain. I felt incredibly guilty. It took all of my time to get him back to health. I had to be at the barn three times every day for one-two hours. I couldn’t be lackadaisical. 

After a month of hard work, I could finally ride him again. He didn’t do a very good job. As we were driving home, I was almost in tears. I had spent my last month of summer doing everything I could for him. Was it all put to waste? My mom told me “If you don’t believe in that horse, you aren’t going to get anywhere. No one is going to believe for you.” After a moment, I replied, “I  do!” Trying to sound as convincing as possible. But I knew deep down inside I had something to think about. 

The next time I rode him he wasn’t much better. But I believed we could do it and it would only get better. I was better emotionally that day. Although it wasn’t smooth sailing going forward, and my expectations were still high for him, at least I believed in him and in us. 

Now, sometimes when I’m not in a confident mindset and am feeling down on myself, I think back to what my mom said, “No one is going to believe for you.” I believe in trusting my mom, even when it seems like she's wrong.  

I believe that a difference in perspective can have a large impact on your mindset when life isn't fair. In 2018, at a Lego land inside of a Michigan mall, there was a large Lego building competition. I was ten years old at the time, and was crazily obsessed with building Legos. I had begged my parents to sign me up, and eventually they gave in. The day of the competition came and was just about to start. I remember being surprised by the size of the mall, and how they were able to fit an entire Lego land in it. My parents came to watch and support me. There were 32 kids entered in the competition (including myself). There were also quite a few Fox News reporters. I doubt I made the news, but it was cool to see them there. 

The theme for the first round was animals. We began, and a clock started ticking down from thirty minutes.  I built a lion. Several reporters would come up to my station to badger me about what I was building. When the round was over, the judge had come over to examine everyone's creations. I managed to advance to the top sixteen. There was no final eight or four, it went straight from sixteen to the top two. I used this as motivation to win. For the second round, I built a large multicolored building. I was very happy to find out I made it to the finals. They gave us an hour for the final round. The topic was superheroes. 

I decided to make The Hulk. My opponent made Iron Man. Finally, the timer goes off. I carefully looked at my opponent's build and it was sloppy and unfinished. I could hear clapping and cheering from my family as they tried to encourage me. I had full confidence that I would win. Next thing I know, the judge speaks. “Alright you two, the other judges and I are going to take a look at what you've built, we will notify you in an hour”. The hour flies by and next thing I know, I'm right back at my station. I could feel the sweat on my hands, they were shaking as well. The judge announced the winner, it wasn't me. 

My stomach dropped to my waist. I couldn't believe I lost! I felt that my creation was so much neater and more complex than his. I ran out of my station and straight into a restroom. I felt angry, upset, and envious towards the boy. I was engulfed in all of my emotions. I heard the door open and my dad came in. He told me about how nobody can always be a winner, how Sometimes we win, and sometimes we lose. He proceeded to say something that really stuck out to me. He said “That's just the way life is, it isn't always going to be fair”. These words had changed the way I had viewed everything.

Sure, I didn't win, but I still got second place out of all thirty-two. My dad and I walked out of the restroom and went to congratulate the winner. I learned a very valuable lesson that day. That individual experience helped me understand that I will not always be victorious, but that does not mean that I will never be victorious again. Life is a roller coaster. I learned that it has its ups and down, but you shouldn't let that stop you. With a positive mindset, you can always get through it. This, I believe.

    Yes, the one that you saw drop all of his papers today in the hallways.  Take 30 seconds from your day to stop and lend him a hand.

   Because it's as simple as that. You´ll never know how he was truly feeling that day. Sure he looks grandiose, but does he really feel that way?

    I believe in selflessness.

    Not in the way of fully letting yourself go, but in the way of allowing yourself to give up something in the benefit of others. Because if and when you do go help out that random person, you will never know how long that simple task can bind you two together. 

    In 1975, there was a stranger. That stranger saved my family from the Vietnam War. Even when she herself had next to nothing, she offered some of it up to help someone in need. 

    This is what I strive for. Small actions taken knowing that the good karma will come back around. 

   Now fast forward to summer 2019, when we paid that certain stranger a long overdue visit. It was a sticky humid day in a small village in Cambodia and the only break from the heat was the occasional shade from her old colorless bamboo stilt house. Despite the conditions, it was the most welcoming home I had ever experienced.  We were met with food and a tour of the small 2 story house. 

    As we made our way up the old creaky stairs, something caught my eye.  The only form of color so far in this house was shown through pictures hung and framed on the walls. As we got closer, I could make out the faces of me and my siblings. From the entirety of our lives there were photos from various 1st days of school and dance recitals and soccer games. 

   The same stranger that had offered up some of her rice water 40 years ago had resonated so much with my family that she had kept in such close touch to try to repay this woman for her kindness. 

   It was right then when I realized the importance of the simple things in life. How the small, seemingly meaningless, actions that you can do in 30 seconds could have an impact that lasts a lifetime.

So here's your sign.

Go make a difference.

     When I was about 2-3 years old, I lived in a very small, crappy house in Grand Rapids Michigan. The walls had holes in it with paint scraping off of it as well. My parents worked all day everyday, making sure I had all the necessities that I needed like food that I don’t abhor, clean water, and clothes. I was always at some babysitter's house, not being watched to make sure I was safe and not doing something stupid. But, it wasn’t my parents fault. They had to work all day, so they couldn’t watch me. I didn’t think much of it at first since I was just 2 years old, but when my parents were telling me this story I am now more grateful that my parents were working so hard for me, and they still are. They always put me above everything else.

     When I was younger I was not lackadaisical. I loved to get up and move and I could never stay still. At home, I always wanted something to play with or someone. My sister was born on April 30th, 2012. I loved my sister. I obviously got jealous of her at times like all sisters do, but I was happy I finally had someone to play with. Even though I loved having a sister and my parents loved her, another kid made things harder for them. My dad had to work third shift because he had to watch my sister during the day and my mom worked during that time. While my dad was watching my sister and my mom was at work, I was at preschool. I first started preschool when I was 3 years old, so I was turning 4 that year. I loved preschool. I got to play all day. Who doesn’t love that? At this time my parents had to work even harder to pay the bills and rent. Since I was a little bit older, I began to understand what our situation was. I started to learn that my parents would do anything for my sister and I, and I knew that I would always do the same for them. I knew even then that my family is all that matters.

     There weren't many cool things to do in Muskegon Michigan. Everything in that town looked really gloomy, and everything sounded sad. You couldn’t hear music in the streets or people laughing very often. Everything sounded depressing. Everything except the beach. My parents would take me to Lake Michigan and it was my favorite thing ever. I loved to feel the sand slither down and around my fingers. There was one other thing in Muskegon that I loved and that was my Grandma and Grandpa, but I call them my Nana and Papa. Muskegon is really close to Grandrapids where my parents, my sister, and I lived, so my Nana and Papa helped us out a lot with things like money. My Nana is my dad's mom and my Papa is my mom’s dad, and they would do anything for my mom and dad, just like my mom and dad would do anything for my sister and I. My sister and I would usually go to my Nana’s house or my Papa’s house after I was done with preschool. They did so much for us and I’m grateful for everything they've done for my family. They showed me how much family matters and how it should always come first before anything else. 

     My family and I are very far from orthodox. If anything we are unorthodox, but no matter how unorthodox we are, we made it through this journey together. With the help of my Nana and Papa, we were able to move out of Grand Rapids. We moved through a lot of different cities like Westland, Novi, and we finally settled in Ann Arbor. Micheal J. Fox once said “Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” I believe family is everything.

I believe in accepting imperfection.

In the past I felt the need to be perfect, not make mistakes, and be ashamed if I do. It felt like I was carrying the weight of a bowling ball.

My parents tried to get through to me but I was too stubborn. I even had a golf coach who noticed my anger when I was not playing my best. He told me that being unkind to myself was one of the worst things I could do. So I would have to say three positive things to reverse the one negative. At that time it annoyed me and felt pointless. 

I was never open to trying new things. I liked to stick to what I knew I could do right.

As I got older I made more and more mistakes. Sometimes it made me feel like I wanted to smash something. Other times I felt vulnerable. 

When I first started to play field hockey I was forced to take a step back. I realized that I could not win every battle or always make grandiose passes. This was frustrating and hard for me to accept. Despite this, I loved the feeling of the ball on my stick and the spray of cold water from running at top speed on the wet turf. And it brought me to a world that took all of the outside stress away. So I knew I would have to learn to accept my imperfection.

My issue with perfection was challenged again when I learned to sing. When you are young you don’t think about all of the people watching you, but when you are older this suddenly becomes very clear. For me, this was hard. I could not let anyone hear me sing. I stopped singing loud in the choir, and would freak out every time I hit a wrong note during practice.

When I first began vocal lessons with my teacher, Ms. Colleen, I was at a low. My hands were shaking and I felt sweat dripping down my back before we even started. During my second lesson, I broke down after hitting only a few wrong notes. After several lessons, I started to feel more comfortable with her. When I was really annoyed with myself Ms. Colleen would tell me to “flick the gremlin off”. I am the gremlin.

As time has passed my values have changed. Instead of needing to be perfect to keep up certain expectations, I practice love for myself, knowledge learned from my past experiences, self-control, and dedication. Looking back on my old self (and even on bad days) I think about how I have changed. This gives me hope for my future and reminds me to strive to live a messy life.

I believe that when you are told, “You’re not good enough” or “You can’t do it” it only motivates you to work harder and prove that you can do it, even if you take umbrage at the person saying it. For me, I learned this a few years ago. Ever since I was little I wanted to learn how to play the piano. I started taking lessons when I was only four years old. By the time several years had passed, I wanted to do more than just play songs from a book. My teacher agreed, and told me that if I worked really hard, I could get into a competition in New York, and the winners would get to play at Carnegie Hall. I really wanted to win, so I worked very hard for many months. But it was time to audition for the competition, and I sat down on the bench and pressed the keys,  I did not get in. At the time I was really upset, but I realized that I was in a quandary, and I had two options; let this stop me, or learn from my mistakes and practice even harder. I decided to move on, and continued to practice until I felt I had the skills and confidence to try again. I learned a lot about myself with that one decision. That I had the courage and ability to overcome difficulty, and for that one reason, I am grateful for my failure. Of course I really wanted to win, and I was very sad, but because I didn’t get in, it pushed me to work even harder for the next competition. So, I tried again next year, and this time, I got in. 

I believe that our mistakes define who we are. Having the courage to try something new pushes us to grow. It lets you know your strengths and weaknesses, but it also helps you learn what you can do. It is better to try something and fail, than watch an opportunity pass by you. Who you are is not defined by your failures, but by your attitude and your reaction to everyday life. 

I believe that failure is not the same thing as giving up. Trying to succeed is like climbing a mountain. It might be tough at first, and you might fall a few times, but when you reach the top, you feel like you’ve done something great.

I believe that failure is a part of life. Think about a mistake you have made or a time where you wish you did things differently. There is a large chance you won’t make the same mistake again, if you learn from them. We fail so that when we succeed, it is much more rewarding. 

 This I believe

Whenever I do poorly, lose a game or even lose a season, it teaches me humility, how to handle disappointment and shows me that I can’t always get what I want. These are important life lessons because things won’t always go your way and never learning how to react constructively to it isn’t going to help you get anywhere. Humility is also important because you aren’t the best and although it’s good to know you’re amazing, it’s good character to not act like you’re better than everyone else. 

On the opposite side of the spectrum, soccer also teaches me confidence and shows me how to believe in myself. I learn these skills by playing well, winning a game, getting praise, etc. The ability to be confident has helped me believe in myself and do things I wouldn’t have been able to do had I not had the confidence I gained from soccer. This confidence also gives me the courage to stand up for myself when life is discriminatory or unjust. 

Another few lessons that I’ve learned from soccer come from bad refs and/or bad games. Sometimes I play a game where the other team is too physical and commits lots of fouls. This is frustrating because instead of playing the game well so we can all have a nice time, they put winning a game over our safety. I’ve also sometimes played with bad refs who don’t call these fouls. This means my team is getting shoved to the ground by sharp elbows and tripped without the other team having any consequences. Biased refs and bad players have taught me that life isn’t always fair. Refs aren’t always going to be good and sometimes we just have to deal with it. Bad players have taught me that even when people seem awful, you still have to show good sportsmanship and be respectful. 

Soccer as you may know is also a team sport. In order to win you have to work as a team. But for me, soccer doesn’t just teach me how to use teamwork or be a good team member. It has also taught me how to be a leader. Very often I find my team kind of lackadaisical and then find myself hyping them up: “You got this! Just keep working on it, you’ll get there, you’re a star!”. To me, teamwork and leadership are the two most important lessons I’ve learned from soccer. They help me just as much on the field as they do off it, especially at school. Anytime we have a group project I know how to encourage others, get organized, and make things happen. I also use my teamwork skills for any other activity that requires working with people. 

Last but not least, soccer teaches me the importance of hard work. The only way to get better and cause the other team umbrage with your skills, is to go to practice. And sometimes that means going to practice in the freezing cold or whipping wind, but it will all be worth it when this hard work pays off making you a better player. 

So all in all, I believe in soccer, I believe in its lessons, and I believe in its purpose, to bring joy and knowledge to all. 

One day, when I was about 7 or 8 years old, it was Christmas Eve, and my relatives had come to visit for the holidays. The grandiose tree was up, and the glistering lights exploded like a volcano all over the room. My family was on the couch in the living room, catching up on their lives like they do every year, waiting for the food to be ready. 

As a kid, the conversations that the family were pretty boring for me, so I would pass the time sneaking around the house to find something interesting, so this year was no different. After a while of sneaking around and finding nothing, I went back to the living room, where my family was still talking. Suddenly, I had a genius idea.

I waited until my parents and family members had gone to get ready to eat the Christmas dinner, and then went for the Christmas presents. Now, the Christmas presents were wrapped nicely with tape, so anyone could see if I ripped them to get a look at my presents. But there were stockings. 

The stocking was sanguine with fluffy white rims stockings. While my family was getting ready to eat Christmas dinner, I secretly peeked in my stocking, revealing one of my Christmas presents, a remote control Lamborghini car with a very big black remote. It was one of the only things in the stocking since it took up most of the space, so I decided to end my adventure and head to the dining room, where my family was waiting for me.

I finished dinner, ate dessert, and was too excited for the next day, Christmas. Being a kid, I really wanted to play with the car, and I couldn’t wait any longer. My actions were stronger than my thoughts, and I went to my parents and asked, “ Can I please play with the Lambo now instead of waiting for tomorrow?”. My parents looked at each other and from that moment, I knew I blew it.

I remember my parents giving me the talk about doing things right, even when no one is looking, and even now I have kept that with me and I try my best wherever I go, remembering that one Christmas Eve, with that one remote control car.

After school I went to daycare. The owner said “you're fine, just go to sleep “. After I woke up from my nap, I went home and my parents were looking at my eyes. They too told me that I was fine, “it's just red “. I knew I wasn’t just fine. I knew I had to go to the Doctors.

The next day my eye was really red, so my parents took me to the Doctor. When I got there the doctor engulfed me. Once they were done looking at my eye they told me, and my parents that I needed to go to the hospital. I was mad at the time because I knew I needed to go there. On the way home my mother was crying and my dad wasn’t talking.

When I got home, I badgered my parents about what they were going to do to my eye. They kept on telling me it's nothing, you're going to be fine The next day I went to the hospital. I was really scared because I didn’t know what was going to happen.Ten plus minutes later I finally got in the room when they looked at what was wrong. I went in the room and they were testing my eye with different tests making sure I could see out of it. I didn’t do well on the test.

 I went to the surgery room. Before the surgery they let me play video games for about two hours. A Little bit before the surgery the doctor told my parents that if I came a day later I most likely would've never see out my left eye again. Lucky I came the day I did because if I didn’t my left eye would be done for. After They got the lead out of my eye I couldn’t walk so my dad pushed me in a chair all the way to the parking lot, and picked me up and put me in the car.

When I got home and went to sleep, I had to wear an eye patch every night so I wouldn’t hit it when I slept. I hated ripping the tape off my face because it hurt and I hated the sound it made. It sounded like someone rubbing on a balloon. I believe in doing what you think is best for you because if my parents didn’t listen to me I wouldn’t have a left eye.

all I kept saying was “ I just want to go to volleyball.” I just got so mad I almost started to

scream at my parents. I had all my stuff ready for practice. An ice cold water bottle that was so cold it looked like it was stuck in ice. My volleyball shoes are sitting in my bag, waiting to get worn. My old knee pads still have an old stain of blood. I thought in my head “ All that for nothing?” Seconds later all I could hear was Family,Family,Chicago. I did not want to sit in a car for 4 hours just to see my family. I just kept badgering my parents for us not to go. But of course I wouldn't get my way. I got in the car and just sat there. All the cars passed by with their pretty colors. In my head all I could think about was happiness. “Volleyball makes me feel very happy” I told myself. I thought in my head “ I never get to see my family, so why do they want to see me now?” 4 hours passed and here we are. The great big Chicago. Right there was my pretty pink suitcase. My aunt and uncle came out saying “ The Tarnals are here!” I was a little excited to see them, but all I could think of was volleyball practice. My cousins gave me a hug and that gave me some excitement. My little cousin was so happy to see me. Few hours later it was dinner time. My aunt got us pizza. I could smell the hot cheesy pizza with that crusty bread. Volleyball was probably over by that time. All my teammates were telling me how fun it was. I felt very sad and a bit angry. My cousins got the plates ready plus cups for our iced cold sprite. My whole family sat at the table. I told myself “This is going to be awkward.” My aunt was talking to me about school. I told her that it was going great so far. Then she asked me about volleyball. That’s when I remembered. I told them “ Volleyball is also going really well.” My whole family talked for hours. I kinda enjoyed talking to them for a long time. I said in my head “ Maybe family is very important in my life.” The next day came and we were going to go out and get ice cream. We were all sitting in the car looking at the water. You could see the car's reflection. There were some quagmire places as well. We finally got to the place and right when I stepped out the car, all I saw was this huge ice cream statue. My eyes gazed around the colors which reminded me of happiness. We ordered our ice creams, but I decided to get a shake. After we got them, we sat down and just talked. I thought to myself “ wow, I’m really enjoying spending time with my family. The hours just passed by like flies. It was the next morning and there we had to leave. My mind went completely off of sports. “ I’m really going to miss them.” I said. That’s when I realized that family is way more important than sports. I remember giving all of them a hug. I believe that family should always come first no matter what. Never take those things for granted because you only get one. 

One day, in 3rd grade, we had a group project. We had to make a robot, and one of my teammates wasn’t helping. He was nice, but didn’t do that great with school. I thought he was just another lackadaisical kid that wanted to mess around. I didn’t care that much. Going back to the project, everyone was excited, especially me. I had so many ideas. Our group had one of the coolest designs. I thought it looked great.  However, it had a few issues. We thought that by making it heavier, it would work. One day, because I was sick, I was absent. On that day, the teacher told us it was too heavy, so he just took everything off. If it happened now, I wouldn’t have been upset, but at the time I was around 8 - 9 years old. I was really mad at him. He was very apologetic, but I was still frustrated. 

After COVID, in middle school, I got to know him better. What happened was genuinely just a misunderstanding and at the time was going through a lot of things in his personal life. Now I wonder how I was so ignorant. I am now good friends with him, and help him with school and studying for tests. For quarter 1, his grade was a C. I started helping him in Q2. I showed him what he had to learn, and I distinctly remember him saying “I’m done with this. I can’t do it. The classroom was so chaotic, it was so loud I could barely hear him. He ended up getting 100% percent on the test.

You don’t need to badger people, but just talking to them and understanding what's going on before jumping to conclusions is something that I think people need to do more often. Don’t judge a book by its cover. That is why it is my belief that you should never judge someone before getting to know them. 

I went to visit my grandpa who had severe Alzheimer’s disease and couldn’t talk anymore. I remember it was cold and the whole place smelled like old people, which was to be expected. Pictures of my unphotogenic family hung on the walls of his room.

When I think about my grandpa before he got sick I think of the stories he told me about being in the coast guard and how that showed him that hard work is the path to success. I also think of life lessons he taught me. He would teach me to be strong, always using the phrase ‘tough as nails’, he taught me to never get up, and he taught me to smile. He lead by example, always smiling, laughing and telling stories. He was a great storyteller and was always talking.

When I remember last year visiting him while he was sick, I don’t remember what my family was talking about, I don’t remember what we all wore. All I remember were the smiles. He couldn’t talk anymore, but he could still smile, and that somehow meant way more. I still  carry that lesson with me daily. I smile at people I know and people I don’t, because I know of the power a simple smile has, and I don't take it for granted. 

When I walk into a supermarket and the cool air hits my face someone normally greets me. They ask questions like, “Do you need any help?” or just, “Have a good day?”. The difference is how they say it, when they say it with a smile I feel welcomed, but when they say it with lackadaisical effort I don’t. 

Smiles are also the universal language. I walk past someone on the street and I have no idea if we speak the same language, but a smile is all I need to get the message across. This applies with my dog too. We definitely don't speak the same language, but somehow we still have a connection.

So I choose to smile because that's what my grandpa taught me, and most importantly I choose to smile because that is what I believe.

This I believe in the power of self confidence

I believe in the power of self confidence. I stand there in my black practice dress, shaking from both nervousness and the freezing temperature of the rink. I'm waiting for the music que, as I overthink everything, why did I agree to this I ask myself. This was before I knew all I had to do was believe in myself.

One Saturday morning, at the crack of dawn, I grab my water bottle to get off the ice. This is when I hear my name being called, “Emilia” my coach says “come here a minute”. I start to think of all the things I have done wrong as I feel my heart beat pick up. I skate over the bumpy ice when she says “we need you to skate this competition”. My mind stops and my face goes blank. “I had only just started training with this higher level team”, I thought. I wasn’t able to be on this team due to not meeting the requirements because of covid. I wasn’t able to test for the next level because the rinks were all shut down. As I snapped back to reality, I realized I forgot to respond when I hear “wear your practice dress to the next practice that's when we are recording”.

When I got home I wanted to shrivel up and disappear. I had let the negative thoughts take over me. I tried badgering my mom into telling the coaches I couldn't do it, but she wouldn't budge. So, I decided it would be best to go back up to my room and sleep on it. 

A week flies by, and before I know it I'm sitting in the car, my hair in a smooth slick back bun, ready to compete. It was like my hands were shaking jello as I walked into the rink. I frantically put on my skates, ignoring the rough calluses on my fingers, which hurt, as they rub against the laces that put them there. We (my team) got on the ice and warmed up until the camera was all set up. We got in our block and waited for the music to play. In those seconds of waiting, which felt like forever, I started to overthink everything. 

The first video doesn't go so smoothly. The second time I realize I need to clear my head. I need to think of all the positive things my coaches and mom have said about how ready I was, they believed in me. I needed to do the same, I had to have confidence.

After I stopped myself from overthinking, I started to believe in myself and the videos only got better from there. It is a simple thing, to have confidence in yourself, but it can change a lot. But, it's not just stopping yourself from having negative thoughts, It's about reaching the point where you accept your capabilities and that is definitely not easy.

It was March 2020. Nobody at school really knew what would happen. 

“School’s closed for two weeks!” everyone had exclaimed. “I know! No school is going to be so fun!” 
Fun. We didn’t even know why we were staying at home. We were just being naive. 

We were lining up at the door, impatiently waiting to leave. I hugged my friends as a joke, smiling at them, saying, “Guys, actually, though, what if we never come back?” 

It was an empty statement. I had deduced that everything would return to normal within two weeks. 

Nobody expected to leave the 5th grade classroom for the last time on March 13. We weren’t worried about anything, only babbling about the two-week break. 

I remember it was a sunny and windy morning. I was on the soccer field with a friend, and we were trying to get blown onto the ground. The cool spring air filled my lungs with contentment, my eyelids fluttering as I winced at the sun. 

Those were one of the best moments in elementary school: doing dumb, trivial things, untroubled and carefree. 

Little did we know, that was the last day. The two-week break turned into a month, and then it became the remainder of the school year. 

At first, everyone was beyond thrilled, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Dude, school’s canceled for the rest of the year!” my classmates were badgering each other in the group chat. We sounded excited, unaffected by the current situation, but there lurked a sense of sadness, the elephant in the room. 

I remember asking my friends, “We might still go on our 5th-grade field trip, right?” 

I should’ve known the answer would be no. 

What about graduation? I had thought. They can’t cancel that, too, can they? 

And then the school year was over. 

It felt weird, the summer of 2020, like something was left unfinished, incomplete. 

I had a realization that middle school was starting. 

During that time, I kept asking myself, “Where did all the time go?” 

It felt unreal starting 6th grade when I still felt like a little child in elementary school. The last four months of 5th grade had been online. I spent so long thinking about how everything would have turned out if we had had a regular year. 

I had this unpopular opinion of missing school. 

I missed going on Cool Math Games during math class, playing four-square, mud splashing onto our pants, and going on field trips to museums, the bus rides full of chatter. 

But that was the past.

The important thing now is to make the most of this school year, for high school is just a few months away. 

After all, we shouldn’t take time for granted. 

When I was in the third grade I found out that I needed glasses, I had many emotions going into thinking that I needed glasses. I knew that I needed them for a while I just never liked thinking about. In school I knew that I had trouble seeing the board and my glasses would help with that but I guess I was as blind as a bat. When I got my glasses for the first week of having them I would purposely leave them at home and after a few weeks I would take them to school but keep them in my backpack because I didn’t know what people in my class were going to think or say. My mom emailed my teacher saying that “I should be wearing glasses and if she could remind me to wear them”, I told my teacher that I left them at home and overtime I kept lying to my teacher. I felt guilty about lying to my teacher and I knew that I was going to eventually start wearing my glasses but I guess I was too focused on what people would say then rather than the benift of wearing my glasses. I also noticed that I was focusing on the negative side and not the positive side. My teacher wanted me to start wearing my glasses after winter break and I knew that I couldn't lie anymore and I needed to start wearing my glasses, and me lying about forgetting my glasses wasn't going to do anything to help me in the situation. After winter break one of my friends got glasses and started wearing them around the same time I started wearing my glasses and I started to have some confidence and I thought when I started wearing my glasses people were going to say I look like my brother but I was focusing on the negative side and not the positive side of the situation. I noticed when I started wearing my glasses my teacher was very happy and my mom was also very happy and I could see the board clearly and it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. My friends were surprised but liked my glasses and didn’t mind it, I was also relieved that I got it over with. After a while I started to become more comfortable with my glasses and it was something that I shouldn't be ashamed of. I learned that it’s better to tell the truth rather than lie because lying could make the situation worse and it’s better to tell the truth so you can see the positive side of the situation.

All my life, I watched as people would look at someone sitting on the street and completely ignore them, as if they weren’t even there. I wondered why this happened. Was everyone so consumed in their own personal life, that they couldn’t stop what they’re doing for one minute and look around? Acknowledge the people around them?

About 4 years ago, when I was 9, my family and I went on a vacation to the grandiose city of Chicago, Illinois with my family for winter break. It was a cold and windy evening. As I swung open the pizza restaurant door, the aroma of deep dish pizza was quickly replaced by a frigid gust of wind in the face. There was snow everywhere, as if the city had been engulfed in cotton balls. Fluorescent yellow lights could be found hung on every tree and people walking in and out of different shops and stores, shopping bags in hand. They were all talking and smiling without a care in the world. As my family and I were strolling through this lively area, on our way back to our hotel, I noticed an elderly woman wearing a simple winter jacket and gloves, sitting on a wooden bench near a smaller store just around the corner. She had a plastic cup next to her and this paper sign next to her. She wasn’t saying anything. She was just sitting there. Before I got a chance to read her sign, my dad tapped me on the shoulder. 

“It seems like that nice lady might appreciate this little gift from you,” he said as he handed me a $10 dollar bill. I glanced back at the woman and without another thought, I walked over to her. At first, she didn’t notice me. I got a little closer, just enough to put the money into her cup, which contained a few coins and a $5 bill. She turned to look at me. To this day, I still remember how her whole face lit up with pure joy and excitement. Her expression warmed my heart. Her happiness made me really happy. 

“Thank you so much. God bless you.” she said, with the biggest smile on her face. I replied with a soft “you’re welcome, and thank you.”

I smiled all the way back to the hotel.

That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the whole encounter. I kept thinking about the woman’s smile and how excited she looked. The fact that she didn’t have much, but she was still thankful for what she had. She was kind and caring. 

I realized that I used to take things for granted, and I never really took the time to appreciate what I had. I learned a lot from that experience. I learned about the value of empathy, that I should try to imagine myself in someone else’s shoes. I learned about the value of charity, and that it’s important to help out those in need. Most importantly, I learned about the importance of being grateful. Appreciate what you have in the moment, because you never know what could happen later. Since then, I have tried my best to try and spread positivity, kindness, and charity to everyone around me. I believe that we should all be grateful for what we have. I believe that no matter who you are, you should always help the people around you. 

I truly believe that we can all make a difference, no matter how big or how small that difference is. 

About a month ago at my friend's house, my brother Charlie called me to ask if he could play on my playstation. I told him he could, then my friend asked him out of the blue, “Charlie, how do I get motion like you?” Charlie replied, “You gotta have connections.” “What type of connections?” I asked. He said “Look at Losany, he’s rich. He had connections, plus he didn’t sit around being lackadaisical either.” He didn’t answer my question until he told me, “You can get connections by talking to your teachers, ask them how you can become successful ” He had me thinking about what they might say. 

The next day I had an important soccer game, if we win we get 1st place, if we lose we get 2nd. I had to lock in. Throughout the game my brother Alex was on the sideline basically coaching me, meanwhile my real coaches would constantly badger me for things I can’t control. Then the first goal of the game was scored on us from a penalty. I hear the whistle blows so it’s halftime, when I get to the sideline my brother told me “Just think of what would’ve happened if you got there in time.'' 

The 2nd half started off slow, but eventually things heated up. Fortunately  my teammate won us a freekick. I was on the ball deciding if I should pass or shoot it when I saw a narrow opening at the back post, my brother also noticed it, he told me to shoot. Shortly after we were running back to our field because I scored it, a perfect goal at the perfect moment. They kickoff the ball, keeping possession of the ball until they score a goal to go up 1 now the score is 2-1 and we’re down. We kicked the ball off with 20 mins left to score but that didn't happen because my teammate made a crucial mistake and they scored another goal now we are down 3-1. Once again we kicked the ball off, but this time we were connecting passes, making chances until I played the ball into the middle where my teammate got the ball and scored to make it 2-3. It wasn’t enough though because we ended up losing the game and getting 2nd place. I feel sad but then I think about how many teams we were better than.

Ever since then I've been thinking about just how good and determined I'd have to be to make my dream of playing pro come true. I knew that I was nowhere near the skill level that some players my age are. That hurts to think about but it’ll most likely happen. Although I still have time to work hard I still have to consider the likelihood of me not making it to the big leagues. I have to ensure that I stay successful and have a fun life, that’s where I think about what my brother told me, having motion (getting to the money regardless of the circumstances) and having fun while being the best at making money.

Once, my mom asked me what college I wanted to go to, since college is her biggest concern for me. I think I can name all the big Ivy league colleges in alphabetical order. But the truth is, which I told her, I have no idea. I don’t have much passion for anything. I don’t know where I’m going in life. I used to want to be an artist, but that thought was struck down after I realized how impossible it was to become one. And then it was a surgeon, a botanist, and so on and so forth. Mom didn’t look at me as if she pitied me. She simply said, “that’s okay, change is only normal, and you don’t have to decide who you want to be right now, or ever.” I don’t know why I assumed she would’ve said something along the lines of, “well, figure it out quick.” I’d gotten too used to being rushed into the process of figuring out important things fast. Like what college I want to go to, what things I will do in life, or what job I want. 

My mom knows a lot of things, like how to properly play the piano, how to do hard math problems, and how to raise a family. But sometimes I feel as if, and she told me too, that she never got the chance to ask herself if she wants to slow down. Sometimes, I feel the glimpses of her younger, teenage self poking through the hard edges of the erudite woman she is now. The vulnerable girl, who never shows her face nowadays. The girl who used to ride to school with only one leg on her bike, or the girl who used to steal tofu slices accompanied by her friends for fun. The girl who once cheated on a math test, who now tells me to never do so. 

We don’t have to know exactly what we want to be, who we are, or what words describe us. We are just us. Human, that’s all we are and all we can be. Be whatever you want, slow down when you need it. Enjoy your life, and don’t rush into the big things. What is the point of being the perfect, planned out person you wanted to be without also being imperfect? Why be a set of three adjectives forever and always when you can just be whatever words come to mind in that moment, and every moment forward? We don’t have to be anything big or special, because I believe that even in nothing, there is everything. We may be only one of trillions of organisms in this world, one of a lot more in the rest of the universe, but you are just you. I am just myself, and who cares what words you need to describe yourself if you are just you? 

   The breezy wind of snow flakes quickly silenced the moment. I was in a weird state of mind, “why does a snowy breeze sound forceful and aggressive instead of a peaceful sound?" I learned that some things don’t turn out the way that you expect them to. I heard footsteps creaking on the wooden floors, and heard a voice talking about a mythical figure. I felt a fire inside of me ready to explode the place. 

It just kept getting worse when my brother kept on spitting unbelievably false but true information. My brother kept on saying, “Santa is fake, fake, fake, fake, and fake, ha ha.”  “It’s about time that you knew the truth now.”  I was just in a state of, “I want to be burned until the cold hits me, but then, I realized that if I went outside, the Arbor land board would say December of 2014. So knowing that the outside world looked like an ocean full of white flakes. I quickly sprinted to my room making loud stomping noises like a t-Rex.

 I was in a state of quandary, I didn’t know what to believe, I made a pool of water and wiped my cold face to head back down to the noxious area of fake news. For as long as I can remember, I was told that Santa Claus was real. Even by my teachers! That's when I realized that everyone was lying to me. I confronted my brother with a lousy look saying, “I Learned that you should never expect everything you hear to be true. This experience made me realize that sometimes in life, you shouldn’t trust everything that you hear or see, heck, you can even say don’t trust that you touch. This has changed me into a more matured person that doesn’t believe in fantasy mythical characters. I believe that you shouldn’t trust everyone because a wolf can be disguised in sheep's clothing. This I believe 

“You can do it!” I heard my family yell. This was it, my hands were already on the wall, and I couldn’t back down now. I took a deep breath and built up all the courage inside me and started climbing the wall. With each step I took, the less scared I was, and a new feeling of courage and determination took place. I went faster and faster, and the seemingly tall wall seemed ever so small. Before I knew it, I was already at the top! I was overjoyed and so appreciative that I had the courage and opportunity to face my fear. From that day onwards, I learned that even though I may be scared, I should always climb the wall.

I believe in always giving change to the homeless or rounding up your total for charities, even if you don’t have much to give. Just imagine walking out of your apartment building to see a poor, old homeless man sitting there, holding his sign saying, ‘Veteran, anything helps, God, bless America.’ It sometimes leaves me wondering how and why they’re homeless. I thought that if they served in the military and they came back, why did some of them come back to find out they were evicted? The government says that they care about the homeless, but in large-population states like New York or California, there are homeless people almost everywhere you look.

I remember always trying to convince my parents that they should round up their totals so that it would go to that charity. But they always told me that the money never went to a charity; it usually went to the workers. I just thought that was some form of an excuse so that they didn't have to pay more money. But then again, some parents make up little lies to “protect their children'', But I never thought that was the case. 

The same thing happened a few weeks later, when I was in the car with my parents at a stop light, when a woman and her two kids were standing on the side of the road, while their mother was holding a sign that said “Single mother with two kids, need rent money, anything helps. God bless America.’ The woman was frantically going from car to car, asking for any amount anyone could give her. She then came up to our window, and my dad lied that he didn’t have anything to give her, even though she could probably see that he had a few dollars from where she was standing. When the light turned green, I asked my dad: “Why didn’t you give that lady the dollars that were in your wallet?” Then he said: “Well honey, you have to understand that I can’t just give away my money like that. Maybe if we had even more money, I could give some of it away, but just not now.”

 It was idiosyncrasy to me that he could spend almost 200 dollars at Costco but couldn't spare a few dollars for a poor family who couldn’t afford rent. It would take a miracle if my dad wanted to give back to the poor or homeless. I could not possibly imagine the rollercoaster of emotions that the family was going through. I could only imagine how frugal they were. I believe you should give back to your community whenever you can.

This, I believe, is that everyone deserves something, no matter how big or how small.

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night? If you did, it was probably for some other reason than losing a tooth. But that's what happened to me, and why I believe that the truth is only as believable as its evidence.

You see, for young people, the tooth fairy is a legend, but for parents, it is a responsibility. One night, when I was very young, I went to bed. In the middle of the night,  I suddenly woke up. I sat up and felt something loose in my mouth. I reached in my mouth and grabbed it. It was pearly white and shone in the darkness. After some marveling,  I suddenly realized it was my tooth. I pondered about this because this was the first time I had lost a tooth so I was wondering how I lost it. After a while, I put it on my desk and went back to bed. 

The next morning, the sun shined in my eyes as I got up. I yawned, then suddenly realized the gravity of what had happened last night. I called my mom over and she said, “ It’s okay, your tooth will grow back. “ This made me feel relieved because I knew that I wouldn’t have a permanent gaping hole in my mouth. After that, she told me the story of the Tooth Fairy. How if you placed a tooth under your pillow, the Tooth Fairy would come and pay you money for it. And sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, there was a dollar under my pillow. 

As the years flew by, I realized that the Tooth Fairy was a lie for parents to coerce their children into pulling their baby teeth and to comfort them when they lost their teeth. I confronted my mom and asked her, “Why did you lie to me about the tooth fairy?” She responded ,” It is easier to lie to a vulnerable child about the tooth fairy than to tell them the truth.” in an erudite way.  After realizing this, I discerned something. Who says what is real and who says what isn’t real? My answer to this question is that the truth is only as believable as its evidence. 

There are many ways to benefit from telling the truth. You’ll seem more trustworthy to your family and friends, and gain more privileges. If people don’t believe the truth, you can explain exactly how the situation went. When lying, you come up with a fake scenario that most of the time fails miserably.

Lying can also make heated situations worse. When I was around ten years old, my mom, sister, and I were traveling to see my grandparents in another state. We had been on the road for a while, so we decided to find a rest stop. After using the restroom and walking around, I ventured back to the car to find my mom and sister weren’t there. I opened the car door, which was cold but unlocked, and sat in the passenger seat. As I was buckling my seat belt, I noticed some money in one of the cup holders. I had been badgering my mom for money to buy whatever I wanted at the time. So as any ten-year-old would do, I grabbed it and slid it into my pocket.

My mom appeared at the car door soon after my crime. She sat down in the car for a second to update me. “Hey, me and your sister are getting food now,” Then her gaze changed.

“Where did the money in here go?” I got nervous, so I lied. I told her my sister had snatched it before frantically sprinting to the bathroom, thinking I nor she would spot her. My sister had a bad reputation, so it was an easy lie. My mom was silent and headed back inside. I sat in the car, and I could still feel the money in my pocket. But then it all went pear-shaped.

I watched my sister come out of the building, holding back tears. My mom, holding trays of food with an angry face followed. They made their way back to the car, and everyone was silent. The rest of the trip was awkward, the food smelled gross, and guilt was rushing in like crazy. Ultimately, I got caught because she couldn’t find a single cent. 

After that experience, I realized that it’s always better, to tell the truth, when possible. Lying can cause unwanted harm to others and self-guilt. I believe in telling the truth, no matter the consequences. 

       

I remember one time when I punched my brother in the face on  accident somehow. Me and my family had just got home and my brother said “I have a loose tooth”. So me and my family were suggesting ideas on how to get it out. I don’t even remember how or why I punched my brother in the face it kind of just happened. All I remember is I punched him in the face and I knocked out his loose tooth. He did get mad at me but he had every reason to be mad at me. I mean I would be mad if my brother punched me in the face because no one likes to get punched in the face.

I did feel bad about it and I did apologize because it would be rude of me if I didn’t say sorry. He did accept my apology just not completely and that's fine. What if I was the one who got their loose tooth knocked right out of their mouth. I would have been mad but I still would have forgiven my brother if he had punched me. When his tooth fell out I did not see it fall out it's not like it went soaring across the living room it most likely fell on the floor or something. I knew it fell out because my brother said that his tooth had come out. I don’t remember if I got in trouble. My mom probably said that it wasn’t ok and not to do it again or something like that. I believe in forgiveness because what if my brother did not forgive me for accidentally punching and hated me I probably would have stopped believing in forgiveness but he did forgive me. For example, what if my little sister tripped me on accident and then said sorry I would forgive if she was truly sorry about it and I was truly sorry for punching my brother and it's not like I was gloating about punching him. I feel like I would have gotten some karma because  what goes around comes around. Something bad could have happened to me if I didn't say sorry. 

“Another goal!” The opposing fans cheered. We were down 5-0, and it was a blowout. Instead of lining up and shaking hands, the other team were out of sight, as my team could hear the laughter echoing off the walls. We still clapped, though. We clapped for the other team, for working hard, and for beating us. 

This is just one example of one of the most important values to me. I believe in respect, and that everyone deserves it. 

A couple months later, we played this team again. It was bigger though. This time, it was for the division. We worked hard, and we eventually won the game. You could see the smiles on our faces from a mile away, but we still clapped for the other team. We showed our respect to them.

Though not all stories end well, respect is still important. Respect is a way of life. There are so many other stories like this, all highlighting the importance of this value. 

I didn’t always practice respect as I do now, however. An old lady and a drive through at Starbucks changed that. 

It was any other weekday, and my mom pulled up to a Starbucks. She needed her coffee after all. We were going through the drive thru, and it was a pretty big line. There was a black car in front of us, and we didn’t know it at the time, but it belonged to an old lady.

Now this lady, she was moving through in an unorthodox way. She would suddenly start and stop again. You could see the frustration on my mom's face starting to appear, as we were running late to where we had to go. The lady was driving really lackadaisically, and before you knew it, you could hear a loud, “HOOONNNKKKK,” echoing through the air.

Eventually, the lady moved along, and we reached the counter. Once we got there, my mom asked, “How much is it?” The person at the counter surprised us with her answer: “Free,” she said. “The lady before you paid for you.” We were stunned by this, and I think it shows that giving respect no matter what happens is really important.

It was Anna’s eighth birthday. My family and I made the traditional “Happy Birthday!” poster and bought her favorite desserts. When Anna woke up, joy and excitement were painted clearly all over her face and surrounded her like a halo. We spoiled her rotten that entire morning when my mother suggested we go tubing at Island Park.

When we arrived at Island Park, we seemed drunk on elation, prancing around in our swimsuits. Our mom stayed on land while my sisters and I grabbed the floaties and leapt into the water, the current pulling at our ankles. What we didn’t know, however, was that the Island Park river route didn’t circle back — it cut into Gallup Park’s stream and into the pond.

Oblivious to this, my sisters and I splashed around, the water engulfing our bodies. The clouds frisked away to reveal the gleaming sun, its beams reflecting the beads of sweat forming on my skin. It was the perfect day, and the perfect birthday for Anna. 

After a couple of minutes, we began to notice that something was off. I remember the sinking feeling in my stomach, the feeling of a stone tumbling to a hollow pit. My older sister, Averil, decided to try and swim back to our mom, promising she would find Anna and me after. Off Averil went, and Anna and I kept floating down the stream, terrified.

I didn’t know what to do. At the time, I still felt like the helpless younger sister. I didn’t reassure Anna, or hug her, or even talk to her. The humming of the undertow was the only thing I could hear in the utter silence. The only time that I spoke to her was when Anna muttered, “This is the worst birthday ever.”

What I did next is still one of my biggest regrets ever. I didn’t comfort my younger sister — I snapped and told her to be grateful something worse hadn’t happened yet, anger and stress pouring out of me like a waterfall. Then I looked at Anna’s chalky face, her eyes glazed over with tears. Somehow, seeing her in that state made me come to my senses, and I regretted my actions instantly.

I suddenly knew that I had to act the part of the older sister. I remember just having this sense of importance, feeling extremely protective of my younger sister. I realized, in that moment, that I wasn’t just a younger sister. I was also an older one. I had to be responsible and do what had to be done.

I told Anna that we had to do something about the circumstance we were in. The two of us ditched our floaties and tried wading back, but the current was too strong. After several failed attempts, Anna and I crawled onto the grass and began walking, not knowing where we were going. The thing I remember the clearest from this memory was the endless swarm of mosquitoes; my skin would tingle with the itchy red bumps. My younger sister and I must’ve gotten more than twenty mosquito bites that day.

After walking for what felt like an eternity, we reached a house — a massive, grandiose mansion, its looming walls flourishing with ivy. Sunlight bounced off the structure, complete with a small pavilion on the side. 

An elderly woman, who I later found out was named Wendy, hurried out of the mansion. She looked surprised but sympathetic as she took Anna and me in. We explained what had happened, and she let us sit down on a comfortable couch, wrapping us in towels and offering us bug repellent. Her husband also came out to make us feel more at ease, chatting with us and telling us jokes. At the time, I didn’t know how grateful I should’ve been for Wendy’s kindness and empathy; all I was thinking about was finding my mom. I didn’t think that it was because of Wendy’s actions that I could find her again.

In the end, things turned out fine. I called my mother from Wendy’s phone and she drove up immediately with my older sister, hysterical. The important part of this memory is not that I reunited with my family — it was the two lessons I learned. I learned about always being grateful and not taking compassion for granted; to not turn a blind eye to someone’s selflessness. I also learned the merit of being responsible and stepping up to do what’s right for others, especially family. I know now from that incident that you do not define who you are — your actions do. I believe in being the big sister.

Laying in the backseat of my car, I groan as the dimming sunlight flickers on my half-open eyelids. It had been hours since we had left our home. 

I ask my dad, “How many more hours of this?”

He responds with a sigh, “Around four hours.”

Listening to the rhythmic thumping of tires against concrete, my complaints die off while my eyes eventually close shut.

Glancing around the small town in New York where my mother and sister currently reside, I feel a wave of refreshment and excitement. My dad, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Instead, he looked defeated and extremely defeated. I didn’t think about it much, not realizing then that he didn’t let out a single grumble throughout the several hours of gravel and deceased trees. 

Awkwardly, I stand for a goodbye. He was waiting for me to say something, but my words were a stubborn animal, refusing to come out. My dad quickly deduced that I wasn't going to say anything, he patted my shoulder and told me to have fun, leaving each other with a laconic farewell. 

My dad gets into our low-fueled car once again, this time weary and dejected. When I pitifully wave at the disappearing vehicle, my enthusiasm turns into guilt. While I was complaining about the perpetual beating drum in my head, my dad was continuously looking out the windshield of an endless road. Yet, I couldn’t even utter a “thank you”, not even an “I’ll miss you”. 

Both of my parents become unhappy when I stay at the other’s house. I used to think this was based on purely selfishness. For years I thought my parent’s divorce was solely based on their frustration with each other. Never had I thought it might be more than that. More than what my feelings wanted of being a happy family. Perhaps maybe the decision was better for us as a family. Perhaps maybe my parents wanted my sister and me to live a life where parents weren’t always arguing with each other. And I have finally begun to understand that. 

Understanding someone’s feelings is something people aren’t born with. I was awakened to the reality that people’s feelings count as much as your own and that takes time to understand. In truth, I was the one being selfish, not taking heart with my parent’s feelings. Being “awakened” into reality means learning patience and empathy for the feelings of others. I believe in being awake during car rides. 

I know this by personal experience. My older sister seemed to be the best at everything with hopes to get into Yale University next year. I, on the other hand, cowered in her shadows, not excelling in any of the subjects my sister did, like I’m stuck on a treadmill where no matter how fast I run, I’ll never get anywhere.

These thoughts are frustrating, I know, but I believe in the empathy of others. It took someone sharing their experiences with being compared in order for me to realize that.

This July, I was sitting glumly on a stone bench across from Columbia University, counting the number of pebbles on the ground. My family had been jumping around various cities across the US on a road-trip college tour for my sister. I should have been proud of her – but instead, each fancy, prestigious Ivy League school we went to cluttered with hordes of eager high school students hungry for a place at Harvard or Yale made me feel all the more insignificant and inconsequential. So while my sister was touring Columbia, I had declined and decided to sit alone outside to wallow in my self-pity. I would never be able to achieve success like them, I thought. Compared to them, I’m nothing.

The sun was deceptively shining cheerfully over the bustling city streets, warming the school campus up to an oven. However, my bench was in the cool shade below a large sycamore. I watched its branches ruffle in the wind in a lackadaisical manner, the green leaves splashing scattered sunlight across the sidewalk. To my right, I could hear the muted sounds of people chattering away in the towering buildings of the university. But nothing could warm up my sullen mood.

Just then, my mother walked over and quietly sat down next to me. I wiped my tears on my sleeve. It was annoying how she always knew when something was wrong. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

I shrugged. She probably thinks it’s absurd to worry about these things, I had thought. She wouldn’t understand.

But I didn’t know who else to go to, either. I obviously couldn’t tell my sister, plus all my friends were back in Michigan. And you know where bottled-up emotions do when they have nowhere to go? They spill right out of you. I broke down and started telling my mom about my frustrations – about how I hated getting compared to my sibling, my worries that I’m not enough. After I let that all out, I felt angry, but a bit relieved, too. I glanced over at my mom, not knowing what she’d think.

She leaned towards me and said words I’ll never forget: “I felt the same way.” She started talking about her experiences as a high school student, how she had transferred to a new school where all the things she had learned previously were irrelevant. She had gone many long nights working feverishly to finish all her homework while constantly feeling stress and anxiety. Eventually, this caused her to do hastily on her college entrance exams and get into an average, moderate school. On the other hand, her sister had gotten into one of the most prestigious colleges in China.

“It’s like comparing Harvard to MSU,” my mom had chuckled. She had constantly been compared to her sister. “At family reunions, all my relatives congratulated my sister on getting in – then they turned towards me awkwardly, having nothing to say.”

I was shocked. This was the first time I had heard her side of the story – before, all I had known was my well-respected, hardworking mother who expected a lot out of me. Hearing how she had also been compared resonated way too close to home. It made me realize that I’m not the only one who’s experiencing these problems. I’m not alone.

“But what colleges we went to, that single part of our lives, didn’t determine our futures,” my mom continued. “Look at me now – I’m doing just as well as my sister.”

Her words still stay with me months later. About the struggles she faced, and the triumphs that got her through it. I felt grateful that she showed enough compassion to share her personal story, and along the way help me feel not as lonely.

Sure, the feeling of constantly getting compared didn’t go away completely. Sometimes I can’t help but notice when somebody else’s art piece, answer to a question, or looks are better than mine. But whenever those thoughts started swirling, I took a step back. Calmed down. Reflected on my mom’s tale, and how many others surely feel the same way. It drove me on, made me empowered to try anyway despite getting compared.

That’s why I believe that nobody is ever alone in their struggles – because there will always be someone willing to share their story.

Everytime I go on the street, I always find someone in need, the familiar jingles of coins in a cup. Every time I pass that, my heart melts, not knowing what difficulties and struggles that they might be facing. It hurts to know that these people do not choose their fate, it's just unfortunate luck. Just like how we do not control the future. Life is not fair for everyone. I was walking with my friends discussing a sleepover, the constant talk of exchanging details floods my brain with so many details I cannot even process. I just keep walking quietly with my hands in my pockets. I didn’t want to dishearten my friends about me not going to the sleepover, so i just kept quiet. Stress fills my brain like a rubber band pushed to its breaking point, I’m not able to decide whether to tell them now or later. I was in a quandary about what to do. All my brain could spit out was that I would tell them later because it was a little too early to decide for me. I’m sitting on my bed and just witnessed the clock hand go past 10pm. I check my phone and see row after row of blue bubbles filled with small text. All of my friends questioning whether I would even speak or respond considering my odd behavior throughout the evening. I tediously walk through the hallway to make as little noise as possible. I slowly approach my parents while they are talking about my future and what I will do. I sat down on the couch and asked my parents whether I could go to the sleepover but they said no. I go to bed sad  almost feeling like a defeat, like a penny on the stone cold concrete pavement trampled upon thousands.

  It was a cold but sunny morning and I didn’t know what I was going to say to my friends. I was walking down a crumbly pavement, sweaty hands in my pockets and thoughts crumpling my brain. I use all of my brain power to think of an excuse. Nothing comes but the throbbing guilt in my head. I come clean and I tell my friends I cannot go to the sleepover no matter how many times I beg my parents. I talk in a very laconic way to reduce continuation of the topic so that I don’t feel bad. I walk back home and crash into my bed. I threw my bottle in a fit of rage, my mind not being able to control my anger. To cope with my sadness I take a stroll outside. I see so many people on the streets begging for food and that begging literally keeps them alive. Tears flood my eyes but just stay there. What hurts me the most is seeing a 6 year old boy, ripped clothes with holes. My tears flow out like a broken geyser. I feel so guilty for complaining about a petty thing and throwing a fit. I now understand that I should always know that you cannot get whatever you want, whenever you want and that life is never fair. Also, my friends who went to the sleepover got a cold and couldn’t go to school for a few days. I guess I also learnt that everything happens for a reason. This I believe.

12/13/2022

Taylor

7th Hour

This I Believe

Nobody is always honest, usually people lie more as they get older. I have always been a pretty bad liar, I don't really know why but I do remember my first big lie.

 I was 5 years old in kindergarten, and it was recess time which is like 75% of kindergarten. Anyway it was winter so we were inside for recess. My friends and I, as usual, were in the Lego corner. One of my friends made this really awesome figure thing. “Whoa!” “What is that?” I asked. “ I’m really not sure,” my friend responded. I wanted it more than anything. I tried to replicate it but we were out of those pieces. So for some reason I decided to take it. I formed a plan in my head really quickly. First, while my friend wasn’t looking, I casually grabbed the Lego. Then I told my friends I had to go grab some Legos from my bag. I secretly took some Legos from the table with me and headed to my cubby. I slipped my friend's Lego figure into my backpack with my ]hands drenched in sweat. Then I came back to the Lego table with the pieces I had grabbed earlier, the ones I said I was getting from my bag. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer when I got back to the table. For some reason it felt like I was committing a crime. I felt Quandary after all of that but I had pulled it off without my friends noticing.

When I got home I could only think about stealing the Lego. I felt so guilty. Eventually I told my mom and I’m sure she didn’t think it was bad because I stole two small pieces of plastic. The following day I went back to school and returned the Lego on advice from my mom. I was very Laconic and only said “sorry”. It made me feel relieved to not be hiding anything anymore. Even thinking back now this does not seem bad at all, but telling the truth made me feel so much better. It was like carrying a large weight on my back but when I told the truth the weight came off. 

This experience has changed me because every time something feels wrong or I feel guilty I try to tell the truth and get it off my chest. I learned that it's better to tell the truth than lie and live with guilt. This I believe that honesty can make your life better. Lying doesn't solve anything, and if you lie enough, the truth will probably come out and then it’s usually worse than before. Honesty is one of the best things you can do for yourself.

I was ten years old, and just switched to a new school. My dad would wait for me everyday after school on the sidewalk. In late fall when the smell of leaves was all around, my dad had met another dad while waiting for me. He had two sons, one in 4th grade, and one in 6th grade. We all made it outside around the same time. Once we were all outside My dad and I would walk to our car, and the other dad and his boys would walk to their car. It turned out I liked the same video games and sports as the other boys. In December we started coming to each other's houses, and we also started playing online together. But everything that goes up eventually falls down. Covid just hit and they moved to their cottage in canada which is where they originally lived.

I was sad at the time and I still am a little sad right now. I still call them and play video games online. But I started realizing you can't always get what you want. 

Another example of this was when I was in 7th grade. At my old school we would choose elective for our 6th hour. The schedule was divided into trimesters, and you would get a new elective for each one. At the start of the year everyone was split pretty evenly, but after a month or so everyone started talking about one class and how great it was. The reason everyone liked it so much was you would just play games and get a free A, but when it came time to choose your elective for the next trimester it was as harder than a rock to get in. the people who got lucky would say “it was just karma for being so cool”, And the people who didn't get the class frantically went to the counselor to change their schedule to have it. But it got even more popular in the last trimester. 95% of the school had it as their first. And getting in was sweeter than the taste of sugar being poured into your mouth, even though it was so packed in there that all you could hear was a mix of conversation "blah blah blah this' ', and "something or other that' '.  Even though you can't always get what you want, you still sometimes can. So make sure to be grateful when you do get what you want. This I believe.

Have you ever been bored and faded on a car ride? Well now you don’t have to be with the car game! This game showed me to open my eyes and look at the best of things even on long roaring boring car rides. 

It was a normal car ride on the way to my up north house with me, my brother, my mom, and Andrew Gregg, my brother's lifelong friend. We were all very bored and didn’t care what it would take to fix the boredom. Then suddenly Andrew while sitting on his phone is like “uhhhh so guys my family and I play this car game where you try and spot different color cars for points' We were all very hesitant to play it because it sounded boring but we gave it a shot. Rules

Purple car + 1 point Yellow car+ 1 point Green car + 3 points Pink car + you win the game

So basically you keep your eyes open for these different colored cars and yell the color when you see that color car before anyone else sees it. As all of us were playing we were having lots of fun even my mom was playing “ I see a yellow car!” Eventually we stopped playing and sat on our phones still feeling energized from games like lava was flowing in you. They then started playing again and at that point I thought it was boring and I didn’t want to continue playing even though my mom, nick, and Andrew were. I was getting annoyed with a fiery temper and when my mom yelled out of a car I went “ughhhh mom stop. It's so annoying” she had a umbrage attitude in my opinion  even though let's be honest it was more entertaining than sitting on your phone. But as I had Abhor on the game I was just playing and enjoying, I realized in the moment that the game was showing me to get off my phone and open my eyes and to see the best in things. I learned that opening your eyes and looking for the best in things doesn't have to be bad. This has changed me because I feel like a more positive person when I look beyond the problem and see the good thing in that problem “to my friends out here: life and be great, but not when you can't see it” This I believe always looks for the pink car.

Many people ignore or bully people who have physical or mental issues. A lot of people can relate to this including me. But, this all changed when I was 11.

So, when I was 6, I had a surgery that I had to take. I cowered in fear because I was scared of going to the hospital. Eventually I went to a big hospital located in Seoul, Korea. I headed to a random room and took a blood test. It was painful to fill 5 tubes of blood. Nonetheless I took it and went to a room that's similar to a hallway. I was put in bed so I could get the surgery. After that I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I didn’t know how many hours it had been.I looked around and saw I was engulfed in a small room with nothing but a small window. I looked to my right and saw my brother was sleeping. A while later my parents came in with a doctor. I didn’t know what they were talking about at the time.

After that my mom asked, “How do you feel?” I didn’t really know what to say, I didn’t feel anything. I felt completely normal. So, I spent a long time in the hospital. They had to check if I was good or not because if they don’t it could become disastrous when I go back home. I had to stay there for about 2 weeks because I had some issues that I had to deal with.

This led back to when I was 11. Our family was talking about when I went to the hospital. And I asked. “Mom, what surgery did I get back when I was 6?” She told me the whole story of what happened. This made me realize, I wasn’t normal after all this time. And thought to myself,  people spend their lives in hospitals and it was painful for me to be there for 2 weeks.

This incident made me realize How bad it was to live in a hospital taking surgery’s and not being able to move. I believe disabilities are nothing to laugh at.

I believe that everything happens for a reason, even if you don’t realize it at that exact moment. Do you know when something bad happens in your life and you question why that is happening and why to you not someone else, well sometimes you just need time to realize why that happened and that everything that happens helps you build the person you are today.

When my parents first came up to tell me that we were going to move countries it was a cold rainy day. I was really surprised when they told me the big news and It took me some time to fully realize that we were going to move. It sounded really unreal that in months I would have a new house, a new school and even new friends. The thought of that happening made me scared, empty, confused and even lonely. I did not want to lose my friends nor to be away from my family. Moving just didn’t feel like a good thing, I felt like it was a storm coming in my life. For me, that was my place, the place I belong to, not anywhere else.

As the weeks went by, the idea of moving to a new place started to not feel as bad as it looked when I first found out. Moving to the United States had always been a dream of my family, so I was trying to get used to the idea for them even though I didn’t fully agree to move that far away from our family and friends. 

As the big day finally arrived, I started to feel more excited, but the fear and anxiety never left. I felt in a big quandary. As much as I did not want to move, a part of me was telling me that It was going to be ok. That day felt like an eternity, every second that we waited at the dirty airport, every minute in the sleepy airplane, every hour waiting to arrive. There was just so much in my mind that I felt like a volcano ready to burst.

Looking back today to how I was feeling, I realized how everything just needs time. I can see how important moving countries was for my family’s life. I still have contact with most of my friends from Brazil and moving helped me realize that true friendships won’t break, no matter how far you are from each other. Moving to a new country brought me new friends that I want to keep in my life for the rest of my life. Every once in a while my family comes to visit us or call us through face-time, which keeps us connected. I love my family and friends from Brazil and that won’t change, no matter what, even if we don’t talk everyday, even with small and laconic texts. My mom always told me “time will show, time will cure” and it really did. Today I can see all the good things that have happened in my life and in my parents life since we moved.

My brother and I have had countless arguments, and I assume the majority of siblings also have arguments occasionally.

 I believe in having the patience to deal with small imperfections and to be self controlled.

Around a year ago I was working on a project. I remember this day very well, probably because it was not very long ago. I felt terrible then and I still very much feel like a terrible person now.

My older brother is one of a kind, he’s smart yet lacks the realization of understanding people's feelings, or the situation's mood.  He's an interesting person whom I can never seem to understand what’s going on inside his head. My older brother often has a poker face, down turned eyebrows, he rarely smiles.

I am often annoyed by him and look at him with umbrage. Downstairs there were craft supplies all over the dining room floor. It was relatively quiet; the ideal working environment for me, though it didn't last long. My older brother starts rummaging around my project materials, his hands reach for the hot glue that's still hot. I quickly grabbed his hand.

 For whatever reason he couldn't seem to keep his needy hands off. I told him to go away but he kept refusing. 

At this point I had no choice but to let him stay. All the little things he was doing were making me lose my mind. I yelled at him to stop and my mom rushed over. My heart started beating faster and my hands were numb, I sat down nervously, my hands were sweaty. It was hard to swallow. She started yelling at my brother and not a single word came out of him. He was standing still, hands together, his expression unreadable. He did not look at me, or my mom, he simply walked up the stairs. At this moment I had immediately regretted what I had done. 

I was overwhelmed with a strange feeling but it wasn't stress, or annoyance, none of that had implied anymore. I became engulfed by a tsunami of emotion. The fear that my brother would hate me because I knew I shouldn’t have yelled. I was mad, I shouldn't have gotten him in trouble with an unfair punishment when I was the one primarily at fault, it wasn’t right. I should have been more self controlled.

I hated everything I was feeling, it was disgusting. I begged my mom to talk to my brother because he didn't deserve the unfair treatment he was getting. My hands were shaky and I was anxious, I did not go upstairs with my mom.

The house is quiet again and the sound of my brother’s door opens. They started talking but it quickly turned to just my brother speaking. He began to complain, his voice quickly breaking down,  he yelled “It’s always my fault!” 

 The house was cold, my body felt numb as I listened to him vent out for the first time. 

Never once has my brother shared how he felt, never once have I heard and seen him feel so angry and upset, and never once have I thought he could have been so hurt because this was the  norm between us.

Only when he came down late at night is when I could say what I needed to say, “I’m sorry I didn't mean to yell at you…”

The things you do, your actions always have an effect on something. As a person I've learned to acknowledge how my actions affect others.  I believe in having the patience and self control to be able to not lash out at someone and ultimately see more than your own feelings.

The hardest part of moving was telling my friends. I was in a quandary to find the right time to tell them. It was a week before school ended, so I decided I would have to tell them. The first person I told was my friend Marcela. At first, she thought I was joking and didn't believe me until I actually left. Then I told my best friends Abby and Loie. We cried our eyes out and Abby said “you should move in with me”and Loie was already planning on visiting during Christmas. Throughout the day, everyone found out I was leaving and I made plans to hang out with a lot of people. I remember on the fourth of July me, Abby, Hirsh, and Huston went swimming at Green lake and bought popcicles before watching the firework show on Hirsch's trampoline. I made so many other memories in Seattle and before I knew it we were packing up to leave. 

My feelings were completely mixed. I felt excited but scared but also a mix of sad and mad. I spent the first weeks comparing Michigan to Washington and only thinking negatively. I felt so drained. But once school started, I met some people I really like. I started taking boxing classes again and volunteering at animal shelters. I started trying new things without getting nervous. I started going to Detroit on the weekends and going to watch Michigan games. And I started to like Michigan. Of course I still miss Seattle and I still sometimes wish I didn't have to move, but I think it was for the best. After going through a change as big as moving, I decided that since you only live once, why don't just try something new if you get the opportunity. That's why I believe in trying new things. 

The experience from which this belief stems from is a situation I was in a few years back. 

My dad didn't grow up wealthy. He and his large family grew up in a small home in a small village in mexico. His parents wanting their kids to have a better future/life, they picked my dad and one of the eldest kids to walk across the border and start a family in the U.S. my dad and his brother had been picked. During this period it was very difficult for my dad and his brother. Family was all they had. 

The point of that his brother was all he had vice versa so family meant and still means alot to them. 

Not everyone in the family had a chance to go to the U.S. so a lot of my dad's side still lives in mexico. But a few family members we have spread out across the U.S. so visiting his family or seeing them was very exciting for my dad and my family. The only one of my dad's brothers lives close by so often my dad, brother and I would drive out and visit them and their kids. One time, his family chose to come visit us at our house. Before they had arrived my dad had told me they would be coming and I remember being kind of upset. I'm not saying I should have been rude and not be happy for my family's arrival but I'm gonna be honest, I had good reasons. It was a sunday afternoon and all i wanted to do was relax and enjoy my freetime before i had to go back to school. So i wasn't very excited but mustered up the feeling to be happy or excited. 

Once they had arrived they immediately instead of saying “hello” and us welcoming them, they had started running around the house in search of my dog. Once they got a hold of him they began roughly combing his hair. I thought that was rude but I brushed it off. A few minutes later they had started roaming around my room and fidgeting and squeezing some knick knacks and misplacing them or dropping them. Then, the second youngest, Christian began jumping on my bed like a wild animal out of control. I frantically began trying to get him off my bed before he messed my bed up. Finally getting a hold of him I tried to carry him off my bed but he gripped onto something out of my sight so I pulled harder and he was off. With laughter of a hyena. I looked at my bed and noticed a blanket. Not just any blanket, a blanket my great grandma (who was very special to me) had made me before she had sadly passed was teared at in the middle with everything falling apart. Not wanting to cry in front of my cousins i swallowed the lump in my throat and walked to my dad and in a small voice i said, “they broke something.'' My dad pretended to ignore me but still smiled and whispered back to me “it's okay i'll get you a new one” he didn't understand at all. I had a headache from all the screaming and just wanting to go to bed. I whispered in my fathers ear “i don't care if they are my family. They have no right to be messing up my things they don't deserve the respect we’ve showed them i want them to leave.” My dad's smile had suddenly disappeared and he had some sort of burned out look on his face. Wanting him to hear me and waiting for a response I again badgered him about my family leaving. My dad having just about enough he made up an excuse and got them to leave. I told him thank you and glanced at him. He looked so upset and his eyes were glossy. I walked over to him and asked him if he was okay. He then told me his story about his brother and him and how much family means to them. Listening to what he had to say I then came to a realization at how rude and selfish I had been. There was nothing stopping me from telling my uncle to get my cousins out of my room so he could punish them. I felt empathetic for my dad and put myself in his place. I knew they would have not treated me and my family like that. There were numerous ways I could have stopped everything.I had made my family feel unimportant and not welcomed.  Even though my blanket is still in half I plan to sew it back soon to renew it into its somewhat old shape. 

From now on I know that even if I am mad or frustrated with someone, there is always another way to handle it. Always be empathetic. Put yourself in someone else's state and see through their eyes. This i believe in empathy. 

     When I was just a mere little girl, I moved frequently. Elementary schools were always temporary. Countries and bustling cities were never something I could claim as my home, as my so-called home was fleeting. During all my relocations, I left a part of myself in all my previous relations. Soon it felt as if I had nothing of myself left for me. 

       This disconnection from myself distanced me from new peers and created profound feelings of loneliness. No matter what I said or did, I could never connect with these people. I was going to move away, so what was the point of becoming attached?

      My vulnerability to isolation. Once I began to tether myself, it became evident to those around me. My mother eventually asked me to confide in her as I had been dragging myself aimlessly the past weeks, and my grades began declining. I explained the discomfort in finding my belonging; her words will always serve as my dais whenever I lose my ground. She spoke: “As long as you make an effort towards connection, someone will reciprocate. Something that feels minuscule can create a community.” Within these words, I found closure. Community is something you cannot touch, see or hear, yet it is sentient. I believe in community because that is how you keep community alive. There are no little red strings connecting anybody to anyone,  but the belief that these strings, these interconnections, will tie two people together. Within these two people are their strings and webs until the world is a tapestry. 

        Even if past me did not engage with those around me, I was a part of many unseen communities. Being Asian American, a woman, a student, or something as trivial as having braces makes me a part of a community. After reaching this newfound consciousness, I dared to come out of my shell, making friends, and pursuing aspirations. I was an overall happier person. Now almost a high schooler, I know I will never fall back into that state of loneliness because of my confidence and trust in my community. With an ever-growing population, there’s always someone to relate to you, no matter their own experience. If you believe in these relationships and believe in community, it will never die.

So I went outside and collected my thoughts. I was pretty mad at technically everything because in 6th grade my grades weren’t even that bad. All a’s or b’s or c’s (at the time I thought they were good grades). But my parents still wanted me to “focus more”. I returned home. My parents had collectively decided to put my computer in the living room where they could keep an eye on what I was doing.

 

(some filler to this story: Me and my parents didn’t get mail that we were supposed to get a Chromebook from school. So, I was taking classes on my home computer. Which made it easier for me to play video games while in online classes).

After that, my parent’s stage one began with Thanos snapping my game time, but instead of reducing it by 50%, they reduced it by 90%. I got to play for like 5 minutes. I am not exaggerating.  But that was only the beginning of their plan… Then in stage 2, they went ahead and deleted every single game except for… except nothing, they deleted everything. I was only able to play browser games for like 5 mins. All my friends boasted about their “Epic gameplay” through google chat (that used to be a thing). Anyway, after deleting everything, stage 3 began. Where they would work in the living room and be as loud as possible. I think they did this so I couldn’t use google chat because they couldn’t block that. It was a school email. During this time period, I just hoped I wouldn’t get called on by one of the teachers. As time went on, I got used to the plan.

December 28, 2021 (7th grade) 

I had a weird urge to compare my grades in the pre 6th-grade report and my post-6th-grade report. I saw a shocking difference. Most of my grades in the pre-6th grade were late or were retaken. Also, I could hardly remember anything from pre-6th-grade classes. But in post-6th-grade classes, my grades were all A’s and none of them were late. Also, I could remember most of the things I learned. Then it hit me, my parent's decision to put the computer in the living room actually helped me. Soon I also realized it wasn’t the games that caused this difference. It was me, and my lack of self control and ability to prioritize the important things over enjoyment. Somehow a few weeks after I noticed this. My parents decided to move my computer back to my room. I still have no idea how they figured out I learned the lesson. Or maybe it was just a coincidence… I believe in prioritizing important things over less important things and controlling the time for entertainment. I still follow this rule. I always finish work first and then enjoy or play video games. I still don’t completely agree with my parent's extreme methods. The lesson could have definitely been taught in a nicer way.

 In elementary school some kids didn't like me because of my short attention span and outgoing personality. I would accidentally blurt out answers or interrupt people. I remember feelings like my teachers and classmates didn't understand how I learned and my intentions. I always wished someone would cut me some slack and try to understand I just had attention problems and did not do things to annoy people on purpose. 

I had a teacher named Tracey who I truly felt had empathy for me. When I would talk in class or I had a personal problem, she would be kind and understanding. I thought about how it felt to be listened to, like a kind pat on the back saying “I understand you”. 

Now when I meet people that are labeled mean or annoying by others, I try to think about how most people who act out have something else going on. In my experience, people's behavior reflects their struggles, so I try to have empathy instead of being scornful and judgemental because feeling understood by another person is sometimes all someone needs to lift their spirit. As I got older I always thought to appreciate the teachers and friends that would recognize my strengths and weaknesses and help me around them instead of making assumptions about my character. 

In my opinion, empathy can mean abdicating your comfort and showing everyone struggles in different and similar ways. Empathy can also mean trusting people's intentions and hearing them out instead of judging them. This I believe empathy should be an orthodox practice in everyone's life towards oneself and others because it has taught me about compassion and it can change your perspective completely and shine a new light on everyday struggles. 

So when I hit 7th grade my sister had me still working on myself and she still is helping me and I will always be grateful for her helping me because if she didn't I would be the same Amyah that argues with her mom and argues with everyone over everything and can’t control her anger.And now looking at me back then and now Im proud of myself because I really don't know where I would be if my sister didn't help me and sometimes it's still hard to control it but I felt like the reason I would argue with people so much was because I held in a lot of things and I kept a lot to myself so it was built up madness .And me holding it in and not speaking my mind because I felt like I couldn't talk or anything so when I did it was like I popped and didn't care about people and I feel like that was me becoming the better version of me because I would probably be that same person that keeps stuff in and not saying anything.But some of that you guys would not even think about doing to your mom and my mom would tell me Amyah the kids you go to school with wouldn't dare talk back to their mom in did because I was so mad because I felt a weird way about my mom and stuff .But just imagine if you were me and you felt a weird way towards your mom and you felt like you couldn't trust your mom with anything how would you feel and what would you do? Because I didn't know what to do at all so being mad at my mom I took it out on everyone else.

But my sister taught me to walk away or because I like dancing just go to the other room and dance till I’m not mad anymore or like almost everyone else listen to music and two of them almost everyone does when there mad at anyone.

12/13/2022

Taylor

7th hour

                    

I believe Loyalty should be An important thing to everyone. You should be careful with who you think is loyal , sugar looks just like salt. I believe that loyalty comes with levels. I say this because loyalty comes with love you are loyal towards. Love can get pretty crazy sometimes. I learned how big loyalty was honestly this year. I’ve always known how important loyalty was this year. It just opened my eyes up on how I felt loyalty should work. I feel like I saw the real definition of loyalty. It wasn't the first time but it was good to see it and feel it. I’m not sure what exact day or date cheer started.. I just know it was a day that changed my life. In one of the greatest ways possible. Last year my friends and I would talk about how Clague never had a cheer team. And how great it would be for our school to have one. But it never happened. I Hoped it would be different in eighth  grade . Surprisingly it actually was different. Ms Massey talked about my friends and i joining a cheer team at our school.. We exclaimed yes obviously really fast. We wanted all of our friends to feel included. So we spread the good news around. It was like A bundle of joy for All of us. The first day of cheer was amazing. I just knew they were going to be my cheer family! I could feel the passion in the room. It was a heartwarming moment. It’s like I felt engulfed with love. I could tell I had a non- lackadaisical team . The cheer team had no cuts which took a pound of stress off all of us. I was determined that cheer was the best thing that happened since the school year started. But I also just was happy how much it helped my leadership. I knew the stress would be on my friends and I since we are the oldest in the school. But for me since I was a student council rep for my class. I loved going to practice every Monday and Tuesday. We never failed to put a smile on each other’s face. The love was there. If someone was down , we were there to cheer each other up. It was a great support team. Even outside of cheer we had each other’s back. Like real siblings. I decided I wanted to bring more to the table in cheer. So I stepped it up A notch. I spent Thanksgiving break working on A cheer. It  took A short time for it to all come together. I made it within 15 minutes. I loved it. So I just knew I had to share it with my friends. Then… It was time to show the rest of my friends & the rest of the  cheer team. Instantly I grew A knot in my stomach. It was like I’d swallowed a seed and started to grow a mushroom inside my stomach. I felt A huge load of support and I loved them for that. It was an endless amount of happiness for me. Our first game cheering. I was shocked how fast time sped up. At Least to me. I felt I'd never had such A bubbly feeling before like I felt walking down the stairs. In conclusion of our first game everyone was so supportive. The whole team showed love after the game. Loyalty to me is someone there for you, somebody who supports you, someone who loves you through thick and thin, And lastly someone who you can put your trust in. Someone who should want to see you at your best. To me my team shows that. With that being said this I believe is a time I felt loyalty and love.

By: Tre Scott

I believe in making the best of everything.

I was in my 2nd quarter of 6th grade and was still drowsy from waking up. The sun had just started peeking over the horizon when I climbed back up the stairs to my room after eating two toasty pop tarts and milk. I plopped down onto my comfy, fuzzy chair still having a couple of minutes left before school started. I decided to check power school with the time I had left. I logged onto clever, clicked the icon with the blue background, and there it was, a “B-.” I was mortified. After I abhorred the B- that had ruined my PowerSchool home screen I decided to make the best of it. 

I thought about what I could do to not let this happen again and how I was going to get my B- back to an A. “Maybe I should study more.” I thought to myself. This seemed to work with other people so why wouldn’t it work for me? Now, to take it from a B- to an A. Back in 6th grade, there was no such thing as a “retake ticket,” all you had to do was start a new test on Schoology. Before I started the retake, I made sure to study through lunch. I clicked “start quiz” and got an A.

From getting a B- on my geography test, I learned things are more likely to go your way if you prepare enough. Also, values like hard work, dedication, and enthusiasm will help you reach your goals. Looking back I am glad I got the B- because it taught me things don’t always go how you want them to, however, you can still make the best of it.

This I believe in making the best of everything.

I Believe not to be a follower because it can all lead to karma. 4 years ago when I was 9 years old in the 4th grade me and a bunch of friends and my older sister missed the school bus. We didn’t know what to do at first, So they came up with an idea to walk to school. My idea was to go home and ask my parents for a ride to school. But I didn’t because I wanted to be a follower and walk to school like my friends and older sister were doing. So I did. When we started walking I got kinda scared that we were going to get in trouble but I still kept walking because my friends were still walking. The walk started to feel a little long and my legs started to hurt. I felt lackadaisical. 

 We walked by old rusty train tracks, there were no sidewalks so we were walking on the street. When we were halfway there, some lady that worked at the school saw us. She asked why we were walking and if we needed a ride. Since we knew her we all said yes. So we got in her car and she took us to school. When I got to class I thought everything was going to be ok. But I thought wrong. I got a call to the principal's office and when I walked in I saw all my friends and my sister sitting there too. When I sat down my principal looked so mad at us. I knew that the lady that picked us up snitched and got us all in trouble.

The principal yelled at us for what felt like 1,000,000 years. She told us that she would be calling all our parents and letting them know what we did.

 After all of that I went to class and finished my day. When school was finally over I got on the bus and I heard all my friends talking about how scared they were to go home and get in trouble. When me and my sister finally got home we thought everything was okay cause my mom didn’t know at first. 

But then out of nowhere she got a call and we could tell by her face she was so mad at us and that she knew what we did . My mom yelled at me and my sister for a while. My sister and I got in so much trouble. When my dad finally got home my mom told him everything so that was 2x times more yelling.

 While my parents were yelling at me and my sister I started really thinking about what they were saying and what we did wrong I started regretting what I did . I feel like this day I really learned and realized a good lesson to not be a follower and if someone is doing something wrong go your own way,  and don’t make bad decisions because you wanna fit in. Be your own person.

I believe that everyone deserves to experience the human experience. I read an article on something called ‘Toxic Masculinity’. It showed me how some people, especially men, believe you must follow a certain list of rules in order to be considered a man. 

Rule One: Boys don't cry and neither do men. Did you scrap your knee? Or maybe stub your toe? The only emotions you should feel are anger and pride. Go man up, toughen up. Go on and be a man. It's just how things are.

Rule Two: You have an orthodox dress code, so follow it. Wear your most manish pants, wear your suit and tie. Any shades of pink and purple are not for you. Avoid yellow just to be safe. Most definitely no pretty dresses or flattering skirts. No flowy blouses, no shiny pearls, no makeup. It's just how things are.

Rule three: In order to be a man you must talk like one. Have a deep masculine voice and be confident when you speak. In Fact speak as if you have superiority over all. You are not beautiful, you are not pretty. You are handsome and you are charming. Do not refer to yourself as otherwise. It’s just how things are.

Ignore the history of change in gender roles. Ignore how high heels were made for men and seen as a status symbol. Ignore how pink was a masculine color. Ignore how medieval men, ancient Greeks, and Romans wore dresses. And most definitely ignore how gender roles change every second and how you shouldn’t limit your way of life and happiness based on a depressing list of rules. Arbor any boy who doesn't follow these rules because that is simply just how things are.

Many people are becoming more progressive as the years go by. Many men are in fact confident in healthy masculinity and even femininity. But so many people still believe these rules. My five year old brother was told that he wasn’t pretty because he’s a boy and boys are supposed to be handsome. But he smiles when I call him pretty, or handsome because it doesn’t matter to him, And that is why I believe everyone should experience the human experience because everyone deserves to be angry, cry. Laugh, and most importantly, smile. 

December 12th, 2022

Taylor

3rd Hour

This I Believe 

I believe that Santa isn’t real. No one can tell me otherwise. There is no way I’m going to believe that some old man will be watching me all year to see if I’m naughty or nice. If I’m nice Santa will bring me the presents I want but if I'm naughty he’ll bring me coal. No way am I going to believe that Santa flies from the north pole all the way around the world. No way am I going to believe that an old man rides around with his 12 reindeer. There is absolutely no way I’m going to believe that Santa lands on your roof, slide down your dirty chimney, and eats your warm cookies and milk. Me not believing these things landed me in some trouble. 

One day in the 2nd grade, my class and I were doing some ELA work. It was near the end of the day so everyone was ready to go home. In the classroom, all the lights were off. The only thing on were the lamps that illuminated the room with their bright engulfing colors. As we were doing our work a discussion of Santa came up between a classmate and me. His name was Gabe. Gabe said that he believed in Santa. I responded by saying that I thought he wasn’t real. Soon after I made this statement Gabe and I began fighting. As we were arguing Gabe threatened to go and tell our teacher, Mrs. Crane. I told him that he should do it because it seemed crazy to me that someone would tell on me for not believing the same thing as them. Gabe then got up and began walking towards the teacher. I didn’t think much of him as he was walking up. I was precarious and praying that he wouldn’t snitch. I thought that Gabe would do that thing where you ask to go to the bathroom instead of snitching on the person. Turns out I was wrong. 

Next thing I know Mrs.Crane calls my name. My blood ran cold and I began to get nervous as Mrs. Crane motioned for me to step outside the classroom. I could feel everyone’s eyes landing on me, piercing me like sharp daggers. When I entered the hallway my teacher began lecturing me. It felt like everything she was saying came in one ear and left the other. The 4 words that snapped me back into reality were “Go flip your card!”. At this point I was boiling with rage and fear. All I could think about was my parents. How would they feel about this? Would they be angry, sad, or even worse disappointed? I wasn’t the type of child they raised to get in trouble in school. This day stuck with me from then on. 

It taught me 2 important lessons. The first thing it taught me was to never ever get in trouble at school. The feeling of a teacher calling me out for something I’d done has always terrified me from that day on. The second thing this day taught me was to never let someone tell me what I should and shouldn’t believe. This is a very important lesson for me because some people may not like for my belief and opinions but I can’t let them tell me what I should believe. This day taught me to always include and excepts others opinions. This I believe.