Anonymous To me, family is the most important thing in this world. Coming from a southern family, it has been ingrained into my brain that family always comes first. I have always felt more myself when surrounded by my family. I laugh harder and smile brighter around my family than I do any other time. As someone who has struggled to find their place in the world, a genuine feeling of belonging is hard to come by. Not only that, but a feeling of genuine happiness fills my body when I am around my family. With my family I am able to be myself in ways that I am never able to do away from them. My Grandparents own a ranch in rural Oklahoma where I found a passion for working with animals, specifically horses. The free feeling that comes from working with such beautiful animals is something I cherish.
My family has taught me to make the most of my life and cherish every moment. Getting through tough times is somehow made easy with them by my side. They have taught me to be able to laugh at myself and at life and never take anything too seriously.
Unfortunately, for most of my life I have been several states away from my family and my home. Being states away from my family has always been a struggle for me, but with college quickly approaching I am finally able to go home and stay there. While being away from home has been incredibly difficult, it had ingrained in me one of my most important beliefs. I believe that no matter how far I am from home, I will always carry a piece of it with me. Distance means nothing when these people, my family, mean everything to me. I believe nothing will ever be more important to me than my family.
Harrison Pearl I remember when I was five-years-old I had many friends; black, white, male, female, Jewish, secular, all my friends seemed the same. There was absolutely no difference between any of my friends. Back then, we were all very blunt. Sometimes, we were too honest. Still, we all saw each other as equals because this is what we were. I do not remember ever seeing any friend institutionally marginalized. I do not recall my sister ever being told she was less thananyone else just because she was female. It would seem I knew so many people of diverse backgrounds, yet we were all the same. I look back to the days before everyone was taught who were oppressed, who were the oppressors, and who were inherently better because they were “diverse.” Now I am reminded constantly of what a racist I am. I am now a misogynist because I am critical of the wage gap and its societal implications. I am now an Islamophobe, too, because I question if a religion, any religion, can be held as law. I am now a cisgender heterosexual white male that is privileged and inherently oppresses others. This is the community I live in—Boulder, Colorado. This as far as I need to go to find people different from myself. No, they are not different because they have higher or lower quantities of melanin in their skin. They are not different based on cultural traditions, race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity or sexual orientation. They are only different where it matters—ideology. They believe in social justice, where I am reminded of all the things I am and how I am inherently bad. This monocultural phenomena known to many as the “THE BOULDER BUBBLE” has been a constant struggle, yet I am constantly inspired by this lack of ideological diversity. Quite frankly, it inspires me to stay true to my beliefs. Everyone else seems to promote the ideas of diversity, privilege, oppression, and intersectionality. All I see is tribalism. I see political correctness at its worst and I become scared. I become fearful of the future of America when its intellectuals are being indoctrinated with the politically correct system. That is why, when I have approached different ideologies, I have openly confronted them. I have exchanged ideas, had deep political discussions, and ultimately, I have been able to see the other side. I have learned that most people have good intentions. Even though I despise the idea that someone has inherent value due to skin color, sexuality, or a number of other identifiers, I am enthused by the knowledge that I have been able to engage with my peers at Fairview High School. I am inspired by the willingness of just a few to listen to the other side and have productive discussion on the issues. I am proud to say, “‘Sko Knights!!
Anonymous
I can remember crying. My room is dark even though it is noon because my curtains are drawn. I can still feel the bed under the crook of my leg, the thin blankets bunching up. I remember the painful tugging in my heart, my younger self hopelessly lost. That was how my dad found me.
Throughout my entire life, my dad was the strongman of the house. He was the one who made the money, the one who caught me when I fell over on my bike, the one who gave me piggyback rides and made me feel like I was on top of the world. He was impenetrable and impossible to hurt. But that day when he found me in my room, I can’t imagine how he felt seeing his daughter, the love his life, crying alone.
I remember him walking up to me, bending down, and I remember his concern. He picked me up and sat me in his lap, cradling my little body and running his fingers through my hair, trying to comfort me. It felt comforting, but the hurt deep inside refused to fade.
“What’s wrong?” “I want mom.” I remember him stiffening and his hands slowing down. “She can’t be with us right now,” he whispered. “Why not?” “She’s sick.” I think that made me cry harder. I hated her sickness, her irregularity, her false words during her fits. To me, it came out of nowhere.
“What have I ever done wrong? Why do we deserve it? Why can’t it be other people? Why us?” I choked out. I felt my dad sag. I remember looking up and seeing the deep stress lines in his face. I remember his heartbroken expression. But most of all, I remember his wet face.
Here was my father, the strongman, crying. The man who was unshakeable and my solid rock. Here was someone I had never seen crying... crying. I think that was when my dad became someone very different and the dark room transformed into a space of solace.
We found comfort in each other. We cried together.
I believe in weakness. I believe that it is okay to cry, to exhibit sorrow. I believe in being human. Without tears, I believe we become like the ocean, lost in ourselves and who we are. We find ourselves in weakness, because who we are when we’re tired, broken, and defeated is our true self. We were never meant to be always strong. There is always an equal and opposite force. When we choose to suppress our weakness, we suppress who we fundamentally are at the core. I believe it is okay to be imperfect, because those imperfections don’t make us weak, but stronger, more resilient. But that strength cannot come without weakness and trial. That day, my dad became a very different person. He is still a strongman today, but he is a human strongman. He is real and passionate. I am the same.
Naomi Zawadzki
Being mixed race, I grew to love learning languages and cultures more than anything else. I began learning Spanish when I was 11, but I always enjoyed listening to music and watching movies from Latin America & Spain, Korea, Portugal, Japan, India, and France. Since it has become a religious hobby of mine, I had begun learning Spanish when I was 11, and started to pick up Korean and some Japanese which I plan to continue studying in university.
Learning languages helped me realize my goal of pursuing a career with an international focus but I still was at a loss for what my future dreams and aspirations were; it came to me unexpectedly when I decided to take an AP Economics class to fulfill a class requirement for this year. That class has had a huge impact on my worldview as well my career path. Economics has really allowed me to understand the world from a business and profit-driven perspective; however, it has also opened my eyes to the injustices and harsh labor conditions that many face as their reality and only means of survival. I was especially struck by development economics as well as the exploitation of labor workers in the fast fashion industry. I hope to make a change in the way that this industry is run, as its toll on human rights and the planet is compromising equality and environmental well being for profit and personal gain.
It is because of my background and my experience of learning a second language, as well as my interest in international business and human rights, that I have chosen to pursue a double major in International Affairs and Business, not only because it envelops me; but I also wish to help others find harmony with each other, and help change the lives of others who do not have the opportunity to change it themselves. I wish to pursue a career which gives me the freedom to travel and work in relations and management between corporations abroad and the United States. With this, I hope to not only further my career but also to form a business ethics sector within an international company that would take into account human rights and equity that can often be lost within the corporate world. I also hope that I can start a non-profit organization that provides micro-loans for people who need tham, as well as provide aid to labor rights for workers in the fast fashion industry. We are increasingly disconnected from the people who make our clothing as there are roughly 40 million garment workers in the world today, many of whom do not share the same rights or protections that many people in West do. They are some of the lowest paid workers in the world and roughly 85% of all garment workers are women. The human factor of the garment industry is too expansive to disregard, as we consistently see the exploitation of cheap labor and the violation of workers’, women’s, and human rights in many developing countries across the world. Modern fashion has been one of the leading industries to capitalize on the new era of globalization of the 21st century. These brands are continuing to inordinately profit from their use of cheaper labor in foreign countries such as Bangladesh, where labor jobs for the fast fashion industry dominate the job market for women. They also represent a great opportunity for change, to use their influence to benefit their workers. As customers in an increasingly disconnected world, it is important that we feel connected to the workers who make our clothes, as well as inform brands that we care about these people and their voice. We must find a way to continue to operate in a globalized world that also values the people and the planet that are essential to this growth; this can be accomplished by not only spreading awareness, but by also connecting to large brands and connecting them to every step of the process in the making of modern fast fashion. This includes agriculture and the growing of cotton, the dyeing and fabric making process, and the finished product. By doing so, I believe that it is possible to not only create an efficient and profitable fashion industry that benefits consumers, but that guarantees workers are being paid fair wages, and designers can continue to create fashion for the modern world, without compromising human rights and the environment.
Anonymous
My grandfather was in the air force, he was poor, but he raised enough money for his siblings and him to survive and go to college.
He became a businessman, and married my grandmother, who also went to college.
My Grammi went to college, and became a drafter, she helped raise eight children, and designed her own house.
My dad majored in physics at Berkeley, but found his passion in software engineering, helping small companies grow. He would work for a company because he enjoyed the company of the people around him. My mother was always consistent. She always had a job, and she seemed to know everything.
It is through their struggles, through their stories, I am what I am today. I believe in every path I take in life I am bringing a piece of them with me, or a piece of knowledge they left with me.
Patty Todd
I believe that we as human beings are fortunate to live on this earth. Our place within the universe is miniscule, but to each other we are the world.
As humans, we are filled with compassion, anger, curiosity, and affection. These emotions, among others, define our race. But sometimes we are so filled with emotion that we are blind. We are blind to all of the compassionate, angry, curious, and affectionate generations to come. We are blind to the lives of others who are not like us and blind to the other inhabitants of the earth. It saddens me to see people throw paper bags out of their windows. It saddens me to see businesses choose plastic cups over compostable cups because they are 10 cents cheaper. It crushes me to see governments take advantage of their countries’ natural resources. I like to think that all these people are good people, that they are still acting with human emotion for their families or their country. But I know they are acting blindly; the world is so much larger than them and us.
Think of the lives of the children and grandchildren who will continue to walk this earth. Think of every species of plant and animal we rely on. Think of the ground beneath our feet that holds our lives and supports our souls. I am compassionate and angry and curious and affectionate about humanity, and I feel the same jumble of emotions about myself, but I believe that it is time for people to open their eyes to see the bigger picture. It is not just about us. The earth is a limited condition and it is our responsibility to take care of our fortunate existence.
Anonymous I believe high school is hard, I believe Fairview especially is extremely difficult. In terms of academics, I am not revealing some huge secret. The classes are difficult and there’s an atmosphere that something below an A is failing. An 85% is a fail to some and to others a 75% on a pristine report card is an ugly blemish. This is the attitude most advanced students need to keep afloat in the academics and most teachers beg us not to have. I constantly am angered and annoyed when a Fairview teacher pleads to us that something less than an A is okay, even though they are the ones determining my future. I am not writing this about the academic environment--every student that chooses Fairview knows the academic reputation. I am writing about the social environment.
When I was a freshman my sister was a senior, going in I was assured by her and the rest of knight crew that Fairview wasn’t like other high schools, there was no “popular” group with the cheerleaders or the jocks, but I soon found out that just like the academics, socially, Fairview was cut throat. I watched the formation of friend groups as a freshman, and I watched as I wasn't in any of them. I was terrified of falling through the cracks. There are unspoken and spoken rules of social structure at Fairview. One of the spoken rules I heard from countless upperclassman as advice is “avoid the cafeteria” it was as if everyone made this pact to look down on those who choose to eat in the designated eating area. There was already this prejudice I built in my head because that's what others taught and I am sure it will be passed on. The unspoken is what group you belonged to and navigating friendships at Fairview, because friend groups form pretty quickly and it’s hard to find the one you belong to.
I eventually fell through the cracks, I was one of those students who didn't necessarily have a friend group or a best friend. I have countless acquaintances and friends in my classes but that never translated to going out to lunch or being invited to a party. One of the hardest things at Fairview is finding a place to sit in the library when you have an off period, it can be so isolating. I believe Fairview claims to be friendly and open, but when you’re on the outside of the norm it can be the least friendly or open. I also believe that Fairview has amazing, talented, friendly people. Fairview has been extremely hard for me and it has grown more difficult throughout the years. I realized it was easier to sit by yourself than with people who made you feel lonely. I believe I am a friendly person who has no difficulties make friends, but at Fairview you have to fit into certain boxes to belong to certain friend and sometimes if you fit into too many boxes or no boxes at all you are left behind. I think I will face many challenges in my life but I think one of the hardest things I will face is trying to find a place to sit in the library during block lunch where I can be invisible and not feel friendless, or aimlessly walking through the halls where I can find a bench where I can be invisible instead of stared at. I do not want to offend anyone because maybe I am the only one that saw this and experienced this, and if that is the case then I am glad and hope Fairview gave you lifelong friendships.
Tara Jourabchi
At any given day, I have my pink, 32 oz Nalgene on me. Well sure, it’s Boulder, hydration is important- how does this make me any more special than the person next to me? First of all, my Nalgene is not just a Nalgene. It’s covered lid to bottom with stickers-- from Park City to South Side Cafe, the Nalgene pretty much captures a part of me and puts it on a canvas for the whole world to see.
And that’s just it, isn’t it? I chose my image, I collected whatever I thought would fit best, whatever stickers I could mesh together to create the perfect Nalgene aesthetic. But am I really defined by a Patagonia sticker? You can beat out every connotation in the book about Patagonia; I’m preppy, I’m “basic”, I’m rich, I’m obsessed with labels, I’m hippie, I’m mainstream. All that your eyes process is a simple word, patagonia, but your mind goes so much further. What if I were to tell you that none of those connotations even begin to grasp my personality?
I believe that there is more to every person than their label-- whether they create their own or have it thrust upon them. Making this realization was not, however, an easy journey. I’ve always felt different, and not in a cool, suave Bruce Banner “I’m secretly Superman but no one can know kind of a way.” No, I am a total Eric Foreman. My snarky, sarcastic comments have gotten me into more than one pickle. Due to various problems pertaining to my dietary habits in my fetus years, I retained a bony, less-than-muscular, figure well into my sophomore year. For years, I noticed my abnormalities more than I realized. I can’t really pinpoint a time where suddenly, none of that really seemed to matter for me. All I know is that I stopped caring about how I was labeled, and how I labeled myself.
I learned to believe that everyone has parts of themselves they’d rather not talk about. Everyone has labels they’d rather not acknowledge. But that shouldn’t stop us from displaying whatever we want to display. So no, I’m not rich, I don’t consider myself preppy or “basic,” I am not obsessed with labels, and I’m definitely not a hippie. I do, however, own a Patagonia sticker. Interpret that however you will.
Anonymous I believe in genuine relationships, built upon trust and empathy.
The words on the screen lack the emotion that words in books possess. The “for i in range (1:10)” is a simple but oddly distant command. The flashing cursor, though rhythmic, seemed chaotic and out of place. She stares at the screen and glances around her, unsure of what to expect. Her name was “Michelle” (her name as been changed for privacy), the only girl in a computer science class of 25 students. At that moment I wanted to tell her to continue her aspirations in computer science. I wanted to remind her to never feel lesser than her male counterparts. But I knew what middle school was like — I too was insecure and non-receptive to others telling me to “be myself” and “be different.” Instead, while helping her through the concepts, I conversed with her about the upcoming homecoming dance at my school and her favorite TV shows — everyday conversation that reminded her that though she was surrounded by males, she could still be herself while pursuing computer science. I was always present in class, ready whenever she had a question, felt unsure, or just needed the visual confirmation that we both belonged in this field.
Michelle approached me on the last day of school. Through getting to know her in class, I knew she was shy — she rarely spoke up in class, but we always chatted. She approached me, her eyes sparkling with a special smile. She hugged me and whispered to me, not wanting anyone else to hear, “Thank you. I loved the class.” She released the hug and hurried out the door, before any of the other students would notice. In that moment, I realized the value and impact of building genuine relationships and trust.
Through helping Michelle in the middle school computer science class, I learned how to leverage my own story to help others find their paths. In many ways, Michelle and I were different. But we were both females in computer science, and my presence in the classroom gave her a sense of assurance that she belonged. Girls give up on computer science not due to lack of skill, but sometimes due to a fear that doing computer science would make them less “feminine.” I’ve felt this way, too. In my first computer science class, I thought that wearing dresses or makeup made my male teammates take me less seriously, forcing me to hide my true personality. The lack of female mentorship often feeds into this misconception. I’ve had the blessing of having strong relationships with females in computer science — my sister encouraged me to work on a computer science project with her; from there, I sought more opportunities, and was lucky to find another female mentor in my internship. Yet not everyone has this female mentor in STEM that serves as a reminder that girls can pursue their passions while maintaining the qualities that make them so powerfully feminine. I realized it doesn’t always require huge conferences or loud advertisements to encourage girls to follow their dreams. I put faith in individual relationships, built upon empathy and trust, to make a small shift in perspective that keeps them on their path of choice.
It’s daunting to “change the world.” We often think it’s just too much, and it’s this illusion that stagnates real improvements. To solve the gender gap in STEM, one might think we need to hold up signs: “You’re a girl and you can do STEM too!” But Michelle taught me that everything is about empathy — by being conscious of her feelings and connecting with her personally, my mentorship could actually mean something and affect her path through computer science.
Just through being in service of Michelle and the small computer science class, I learned how to make a difference through genuine relationships. And it’s my responsibility to take that learning to serve in all communities around me, wherever I end up.
Emilie Harold
From the sweet sound of a piano to the soaring chords of an orchestra, I can always turn to the melodious pleasure music brings. Music has been a part of my life since I was born—my house always filled with the delicate plunks of a piano or the strums of old music echoing from my dad’s computer. It has a way of reflecting any mood I am in, echoing the angry crescendos or peaceful ballads. It has been the backdrop of my late nights of homework and my family Christmas decorating. A love of music is something that has pulled my family together from the start.
Last year I was given the opportunity to perform with the Colorado All-State Band. It was an experience that I will always remember. I spent months preparing my audition piece, and then another series of months painstakingly practicing the music once I had been accepted. When the weekend of All-State finally arrived, I nervously packed my suitcase and joined my band director and three other students to drive down to Greeley. These were people that I knew only because they were also in band, but we had never had many real conversations together. However, from the moment we stepped into the car together, we were chatty and upbeat, talking as if we had been friends for years. We talked about the music and what the conductor might be like. We complained about difficult passages and elated over the soaring melodies of the songs. Four people who had rarely had conversations together could talk for hours over the shared love of music.
Once we reached the venue, the same thing happened. People who had never met each other had an instant bond. Music has a way of bringing people together and creating friendships out of thin air. At the end of the weekend I looked around and saw groups of students who, 72 hours earlier, had never spoken to each other, tearfully exchanging contact information and promising to stay in touch. There hadn’t been much time to socialize, most of our time was spent in rehearsal, but friendships were formed instantly due to this shared love. We can all find similarities in music and in the experiences we have shared over our lifetimes.
Music has the ability to bring together people from all different walks of life. I looked around at the end of the concert and saw families of varying ethnicities and cultures embracing their children and enjoying the same performance, and the parents having conversations with each other about the songs we had played. Music is a unifier. It doesn’t require a common language or the same culture, but instead uses notes and patterns to create common moods among its listeners. Each family could feel pride and joy over this celebration of music. It didn’t matter who they were or what their history was. There were no divisions. Everyone was just enjoying the music and the work that had been put in to create it.
Every society has its own version of music, from chant to songs to musical instruments. Somehow cultures from opposite ends of the world all managed to find joy in creating haunting melodies and cheerful dance songs. I feel like music is something that we can all turn to in order to relate to others. We are living in a fractured society right now, but music has no religion, no culture, no political affiliation, and no sexual orientation. It is something that people can connect through regardless of their beliefs. And I find that beautiful. This, I believe.
Anonymous … quirky; eccentric; unconventional; zany; all terms that many people store in their vocabulary as insults. Why though? Why do these words need to be loaded with a negative connotation?
Since when did defying social normalities and being original mean being the “weird” girl at school?
In my junior year of high school, I was sitting at one of the round tables in the library. I was with a few friends and we were smiling and laughing hysterically while cracking jokes; I was laughing so hard, I slumped back into my chair holding my stomach. The girl sitting in the chair next to me turned her head and lowered her judgemental eyes and said, “Oh my God Julia, you’re so weird.”
I let the comment roll off my shoulders, paying little attention to the weight of the word and the girl who said it. However, I couldn’t stop replaying the situation in my mind. I started doubting myself; questioning whether being genuine and original was viewed as a negative character trait.
I had always surrounded myself with people who accepted and appreciated my unconventional sense of humor. I accepted the fact that I was quirky and eccentric, but I had never considered that to be a bad thing.
Here’s the thing, I understand that feeling self conscious is inevitable at some point in high school; everyone is beginning to develop who they are as people while trying desperately to fit in with some crowd. But wouldn’t we all feel more confident if we were part of a community that supported each other's originality?
I believe that in order to promote originality, we need to eliminate the negative connotation associated with words like quirky and eccentric; stay weird and embrace it.
Andres Gomez-Colunga
I believe in the power of people to rise to the occasion and do… well, anything. Like, go to space, fix the atmosphere, stuff like that. To be clear, I don’t mean “people” in the sense of individuals, I mean “people” in the sense of a big enough group, working together. This is what makes us better than monkeys and badgers and ants. Billions of people have worked together over thousands of years to take over the world, and I believe we can do even more.
Now, I am a mathematician. Well, an aspiring mathematician. And as an aspiring mathematician, what I do is take some basic assumptions (which I call “axioms” to sound a bit fancier) and see what falls out of them. By now, that’s kinda become the way that I think about everything I do. So, given the axiom that a group of people working together can do anything, what can we deduce? One quick little implication (which a nerd might call a “corollary”) is that groups of people are more effective than individuals. After all, regular folks can only do some things, but lots of folks can do anything. Another consequence, which is a bit more complex (maybe enough to be a “theorem”), is that you (yes, you!) should be friendly to people. Here’s the deal: groups are more effective than individuals, so cooperating with others will help you do things faster. Of course, you’ve also got to help them, so it is possible that you actually come out with less time than before. However, if we assume that your friends are not hell-bent on destruction, whatever they want is going to also be nice for you. Helping folks is, in the long run, a win-win. Therefore, you should try to help people (as long as you think they’re not evil). Q.E.D. (That’s latin for “I told you so.”) And there you have it. The inescapable conclusion. Okay, so maybe that was a bit silly, but, hey, that’s how I do. That’s how I try to look at the world. It’s not for everyone, but that’s the point. We all bring things to the table that nobody else can. Part of the reason why we’re so powerful together is that we’re so different as individuals. We can do anything not just because there are a lot of us, but because we are a lot of different types. Anyways, this has been a kind of ramble about what I think people are like. I think people are good, and friendly, and cooperative, and effective, for the most part. I believe in people.
Anonymous I believe I believe that everyone is a person, no matter the mental state, no matter the background
Have you ever been in that position? Where you saw someone blatantly struggling and just Walked by?
They could have needed your help- someone to stay with them and help comfort them
Have you ever been in that position? Where you didn't talk to someone who was visibly struggling because you thought they were “weird” then you minded your own business because you don't want to be associated with “them”?
What if that person was struggling with depression suicide or hard times at home
What if all they needed was someone to tell their story too? Someone to lift them off the ground you could have been that person they deserve a chance- no matter who they are
The difference is sometimes simple Life or death
I believe I believe that everyone is a person, no matter the mental state, no matter the background
Everyone deserves a chance you could change a life
Anonymous The days of homesteads, tractors, horses, and cattle are not hundred-year-old concepts to me; they are very present and very real. I have been lucky enough to be one of the last generations to be part of a family who runs a working ranch. My grandparents have been Hereford ranchers since before my mother was born. I was only seven years old when I began to help my grandfather with this agricultural way of life, and I knew that I was experiencing something very unique, something beautiful and simple, and a home away from the craze of the urban world. The remoteness and tranquility of the ranch made me feel like I had been initiated into a secret society, into a secret haven, with an incredible view into a great American tradition that is hardly ever seen. I would wake up at 4:30 in the morning to join my grandfather in the cold pickup to go out to feed cows, or ride twenty miles on horseback in the summer heat, or help birth calves in the freezing cold. I developed incredible tenacity and patience; it’s rather difficult not to in these situations. To push through such experiences with family members creates deep connections and trust. I rely on these connections to get me through difficult times. While ranch work is physically exhausting, it is the emotional support that allows us to do it. These bonds and emotional support have allowed me to get through anything, far beyond just ranch work. Bonds like this became my backbone. My experience on the ranch pushed me to what I thought were my limits. Temperatures were often brutal and cows wouldn’t cooperate. However, I quickly learned that when working with animals, quitting is never an option. I learned how to get through any challenge because everything seems small compared to moving 300 half-ton animals in the same direction when all they want to do is eat the fresh grass. I developed true grit and while the work seemed almost impossible some days, I loved it and I loved doing it with my family. While I loved the ranch, the far-away sandhills of Nebraska weren't always accessible. So, I brought my love of agriculture into my Boulder life by joining the 4-H Horse Program when I was ten. An organization that both my mother and grandmother participated in, I am proud to have found a place in 4-H where I could do what I love and continue a family tradition, all while at home. My love for horses has continued as I have grown up. I have created an entire new family around 4-H. Traditions and values of respecting the natural cycles of life, of hard work: the agriculture community represent family and love for me. 4-H has been a constant reminder for me of where I come from and that my family bonds are still strong, however far away. It is an honor to be a part of a tradition like this, and to be able to carry it to future generations, such as past generations have done for me.
Anonymous
Wherever I have been, I have always had to work for all that I have earned in life, whether it be in school or in any other practical experience. I remember what a job meant for me. The purpose of a job was to obtain money for buying things like movie tickets, sports gear, and basically anything I wanted. I thought it would great and easy to make a quick buck, to gain something for nothing. I remember asking around in my friend group and my parents for prospective jobs that would suit me. I got interviews with retail stores, and other minimum experience jobs that I thought would suit me, with minimal work, and maximum pay. I got an offer from a high end Indian Restaurant. They hired me for my knowledge of Indian food and my ability to be jovial to customers. As a fourteen year old, I was blind to most responsibilities that I needed to fulfill as a true adult. I went in the first day thinking fireworks and money would fill my brain and my pocket. It was the exact opposite. They had placed me at unloading produce and food supplies out of the trucks and cleaning the kitchen periodically throughout the shifts. At first I was disliking my job. I would come home to my parents frustrated, and not a great person to be around. That summer, when my family took a trip to see my grandparents and other relatives, I talked to my grandpa about how life was going in the States. I told him about the rough nature of the job I was in. He told me that a job was a responsibility, not a right. He also told me that a job brings more than just money, it also brings new experiences and valuable skills that are not simply given at birth. When I got back to the States, I contemplated the decision I had made to get a job, and the fact that I chose to get that job was test to see if I could stick it out. The next day, I walked into work and did what I always did, just the way the boss had told me to: clean the kitchen, mop the floors, and unload the food trucks at the beginning of the day. This time I did my job with a sense of pride. The amount of work I put in had been so great I got promoted to the bus boy to clear the tables and clean after people in the actual restaurant as well as set up the napkin designs and plates. That went so well, that a week later I found myself to be the head maitre’d of the Indian Restaurant after just six weeks on the job. At that point I had successfully climbed the corporate ladder. The restaurant job had taught me to respectfully take my job as a privilege. It was my responsibility to stick it out and prove that I could live to climb up the ladder through persistence. The process of hard work was and still is what teaches me to be responsible for myself and what I value most in life. In turn, I accomplished the equivalent of what some people can only dream of accomplishing through their years in the work force. Like life, the workforce is a climb to reach the top and one must have the responsibility and the persistence needed to survive the climb. And also I get money for it too-as an added bonus.
Kim Berg I believe in the power of addiction. It has the strength to shatter relationships, disintegrate achievements, and monopolize attention. Addiction also has the power to motivate.
I have witnessed addiction rip my life apart and lay waste to others. Alcoholism and drug abuse create unrecognizable creatures driven to indifference, helpless to their own temptations. I have forced my eyes shut and restrained my lungs to slow, shallow breaths, for the fear of what would happen if he could tell I was awake. I have been driven home next to the pungent smell of vodka disguised in the water bottle pressed to his lips. I have staked out his house with the police, waiting until he left to be escorted into my former home to retrieve clothes I haven’t seen in two months.
I have been told I have an addictive personality, just like him.
Addiction has also entered my life in other ways. I have known people addicted to their phones, their jobs, their children, showering, charity, religion, and love. Humans naturally become addicted, some more than others, but the reliance on something else, something removed from ourselves, is innate.
I’m not sure what my addiction is or what it will be. One power of addiction is the way it can be masked, hidden from yourself. In my younger years I was addicted to school and extracurricular activities. In order to find a sense of control I didn’t have at home, I filled my schedule with activities, forcing myself into a regimen and routine. I couldn’t give up, couldn’t slack off, and couldn’t say no. This addiction ultimately led me to become who I am today. It kept me away from drugs, alcohol, and mental illness. It completely changed my life.
I believe that people don’t get to choose their levels of addiction, but they have some control over what they become addicted to. Addiction is powerful, and can tear your life apart or motivate you to achieve. Addiction can keep passion aflame, but it can also burn it out. I will never try coffee or cocaine. I am aware of my addictive personality, and I owe it to myself to learn from the addiction I have seen in other people. I believe addiction is impossible to control, but the least you can do is try.
Liam Delany It used to be that everywhere I went people would see me carrying a book. No matter what was happening it was there, in my hands or in a pocket. I would always be reading. I adopted this habit mostly to avoid people. I did enjoy reading, but it was more of an escape. It started when I moved to Colorado, and I really only stopped using books as an escape last year. Reading is still a huge part of who I am and I always have a book with me, but I don’t make of point of burying myself in it anymore. I try to be more extroverted and try to stay in conversations. What changed? Well for the first time since moving, I found a group of people who made me feel like I belonged and was wanted. I had been in other groups,--Boy Scouts, choir, Book Club--but they either met infrequently or were too big for me to really feel like I fit in and like I belonged. The difference was Stage Crew; it met every day for almost the whole year and was only twenty to thirty people so it was easy to get to know everyone. This is when my belief that everyone needs a group of people that they belong to began to form. It was a safe place for me to retreat to and I felt like I could really open up around them, which led to me being more open around others. It also led to my first truly happy memories since moving to Colorado. That is not to say all my other memories were unhappy, but they couldn’t compare to the happiness I experienced in a group of people. That is the reason for my belief that everyone needs a group of people to be a part of.
Sierra C.
“Be somebody who makes everybody feel like a somebody” - Robby Novak. This is one of my core beliefs and I have focused on this way of thought in the last two years. I want to talk about my experience with Ignite Adaptive Sports to better support this quote.
Ignite Adaptive Sports is a adaptive skiing program located in the town of Nederland. If you have seen the giant trailers in the bunny hill parking lot, you have seen where everything begins for us. The trailer may not seem like a lot and we may only have 2 working microwaves and limited space, but the trailer is where I began my love of teaching others to ski. I absolutely love my job and it's something that I look forward to not only every weekend, but I hope that summer will pass more quickly so I can ski again!
Ignite can be challenging but I always keep thinking that I'm making others feel like they are somebody. Many people of the adaptive skiing community are trapped from feeling like they are not normal people. Almost every single lesson I have, someone has to ask me in some form “What’s wrong with him/her?” I feel the human race is quick to judge and point out other people that are different from normal. We want to know why they are different and what's wrong with them immediately. Even though it's important to know what condition our student has, it's not what I think about in the lesson. I focus on having fun and making the day the best I can with my student. Up at Ignite nobody stares when someone is an adaptive skier, everyone is different up in our trailer!
At Ignite, I have learned that all people do things differently. Your body may not work one way and your skiing form may not be great, but the best part is that we're having fun and teaching life skills. I have learned that life is something we should enjoy and I shouldn't constantly be trying to teach my students how to be a perfect skier. Life should be fun, not stressful! Being a high school senior is difficult and especially at the end of the year, we want to give up but we should focus on what we can do and focus on living life so it can be fun!
Ignite has also taught me how to integrate myself into communities that I love. I now have a community that will support me and teach me ways I can better myself. In my middle school years, I couldn't even talk to strangers or talk on the phone but I have blossomed! I can talk to others with my upbeat personality and not be afraid. Living in such a large world, we need communities to support us and Ignite has shown me their community. When I hurt my shoulder this past month, I felt scared but soon everyone rushed to help me to ski patrol and led me to the warm trailer. I learned how important it is to have a loving community in that moment. I’m so glad to have been introduced to Ignite; Ignite has helped me blossom and now I feel I'm ready to go to college and be a Buff!
Olivia Brown For as long as I remember, I have been a writer. A storyteller. It’s my way of parsing things, expressing the things I don’t care to say out loud to anyone. As I’ve grown (and taken year after year of language arts classes), I’ve found myself analyzing my own writing: that’s metaphor. Asyndeton. Synesthesia. That’s what makes the words work. And the words do work for me – most of the time. When I’m writing fiction, they’re lovely. Essays are competent, although they require me to obey all the grammar rules I absorbed from the books I read. The one time I cannot, for my life, make the words say what I want them to is when I try to write about myself. Writing about myself is tantamount to laying myself bare – it is setting myself out for all to see, all my quirks and my insecurities on full display. I can’t count how many teachers have told me to show rather than tell – this is telling at its most basic, the principles of showing thrown out to the curb with the recycling. I don’t care to tell. That’s not how I do things. That’s not how I communicate – not on this scale. Without characters and flowery prose to hide behind, I am left with nothing but my self – and my self is not made of words. It does not obey the rules of grammar or sentence structure, and I cannot exercise literary techniques on it. So here’s what makes this hard: I have no wish to misrepresent myself. If this is to be an expression of my beliefs, it must be honest. But if I am to lay out my soul, I must be able to protect it. It is not so tough that I trust it to be out on its own. In fact, I rarely let it wander at all – nothing good can come of that. To keep it safe, I ground it. I moor it. For the most part, I moor it to my friends – and for the most part, that works. And so it is that I have come to believe in mooring, in having an anchor – and, when necessary, in being that anchor for my friends.
I’m an only child, and when I was younger I spent a lot of time alone with my thoughts. It wasn’t that I didn’t have friends, but that my friends had better friends, or better ways to spend their recesses. It was then that the stories started, probably, if not before. Maybe, back then, they were my way of mooring myself – I suppose back then it didn’t matter that they were imaginary; all children have their quirks. As I grew, the writing faded to entertainment and my friends drifted to the other side of an intangible tinted window. We could hear each other, but the laughter was muted and the distance was set. Six years on a small and dysfunctional synchronized swimming team played no small part in this – I was the weakest link, I was a liability, and I was never allowed to forget it. By the end of sophomore year there was a hollow behind my ribs that felt like drowning, and my moorings had crumbled to nothing before my eyes.
I’ve rebuilt them now, whether or not the people who make them up know it. Because, as I mentioned, I don’t care to bare my soul, there are not many people with whom I talk about things like existence and purpose and that weird emptiness that feels like watching the world from the wrong side of a one-way mirror. Yes, those people and those conversations keep me sane, but so do all my friends, so does going to rowing practice every evening and putting everything I have behind my oar. When any one of those is removed – on vacation, for example, when practice doesn’t exist and my friends are out of town – I sometimes feel the knots that tie me to my moorings coming slowly unraveled.
I believe in having an anchor. I believe that having a constant – at least one constant – in one’s life is healthy and probably necessary. But it goes both ways. I have a standing offer to all my friends, whether they know about it or not: if they ever need to talk about anything, I will listen. I will be their anchor if they need it, because several of them have done the same for me in one capacity or another. I am not the sort of person who talks about my feelings, not usually, so it’s things like the kindness shown to me when I joined the rowing team, or the offer of chocolate on a day when I’m unusually tired, that ground me more than anything else. It’s those gestures that I try to return, because if I believe in having an anchor for myself I believe doubly in providing my friends with whatever mooring they may need.
Sonali Kamath
I wish I knew all That could cure the world An antidote, a remedy, A powerful word.
I say: If I ruled the world, I’d put all conflict to rest, But that statement’s absurd, It’s foolish at best.
It is not an “I” or a “one” That contributes the most. It is the “we,” the “all” That are justice’s host.
Still we wait For the solution to come, All the while snapping Our pink bubble gum. Filing our nails, Tossing our hair, “Oh it’s so horrible, What happened over there…”
“Miss America contestant, What do you wish will cease?” “Why, the conflict that divides us; I wish for world peace,” She says with a smile Through pearly white teeth. “Fabulous answer! Now please take a seat.”
But this I believe Is assuredly true: Lately it seems Sitting is all that we do. We cry and we mutter With sadness and guilt, That the world’s going under, The oil’s been spilled.
But this I believe With all the conviction I have: The world’s still a baby A bright-eyed young calf. Delicate yes, But it still has us all: The dreamers, believers, Willing to answer the call.
And this I believe With the utmost pride: That we who believe Can never divide.
For at the basic level, Our values are the same. We love to love love, And we hate what brings pain.
Apathy and ignorance Are our only foes, We must fear fear itself, As the phrase goes…
And this I believe, As the day comes to an end: We must try our hardest To become faithful friends. But if not good friends, our world can still stand strong, Put an end to our wars, And simply get along. And if we can’t get along, We can still lower our fists, For we must, at the minimum, Still coexist.
Why, Miss America contestant, Your answer was right! World peace is the solution To all our plight. But how to attain it? A tricky one, that. Only together. Get on it, stat!
Anonymous
I believe that photos and mirrors do not define your image. Inevitable of the whispers and internal shouts, your body is unique and beautiful no matter the shape or size. Short or tall, slim or thick, dark or light, you body is yours and the unique kisses of “different” that show through fully clothed or bare naked. The beauty of a human is not purely external, but the sexy, streaming idea of a beautiful life is also connected to the body. Beautiful personas and gorgeous humor is the way we connect. For when the thirteen year old girl looks in the mirror and thinks she is not beautiful, that was something that was taught by society and engraved by her peers, or when a twelve year old boy sees a photo of himself and does not see the gorgeous uniqueness of his own self, that is society and the influence of magazines and tv shows. Society and our own peers have killed the idea of pure beauty, and this i believe. Girls and boys deserve to have beauty in every self image, whether it is visually or from the heart, but everyone deserves to feel beautiful. This is believer, that every external body is gorgeous, and that every internal body is beautiful.