I believe in the power of human connections. I believe that one connection with a single other person truly has the power to alter the course of one’s life.
It was the second day of the dance convention, an early morning master class after a late night competition the night before. Exhausted and sore, we continued to fight to get noticed by the instructor. To push our boundaries, the instructor directed us to dance freely (improvise) with a partner—one who did not dance at our studio and to whom we had never spoken. I partnered with the girl next to me and we began to dance together, feeding off each other's energy and orchestrating our next move without words. Her fierce passion showed through each of her jetés as I countered her intensity with slow lunges and gentle pirouettes, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Moments like these are the real reason I love to dance. It's not the performances or even the self-expression that keeps me dancing until my feet bleed. It’s the deep human connections.
The connection dancers have with each other is like nothing else in the world. I have been lucky enough to walk into a studio full of complete strangers from all walks of life and have a moment to connect with them on a deeper level than with people I've known for years. Every connection is different and with each connection I walk away with new knowledge. Even though dance is usually done without words, every individual's life experience alters the dynamic. Each chassé offers something new; a unique perspective, traumatic experience, or certain reason why the dancer is there is that moment. Every interaction with another human is an opportunity to learn, but to truly appreciate and gain knowledge from these connections there needs to be understanding and awareness from those involved. I believe in the importance of putting myself in other people’s shoes to question my own understanding. Questioning my perspective has enabled me to live my life with significantly less conflict and in an increasingly caring and empathetic way. I believe that eighty percent of all problems, no matter the size, could be solved through trying to view the situation from the other party’s perspective. A variety of connections I’ve had with other human beings has changed who I am and the way I choose to live my life. It teaches me about the world in which I live and helps expand my personal view of that world. I have physically changed aspects of my life and the way I choose to approach my life because of specific human interactions. I became interested in spirituality because of a woman who introduced me to it while she was waiting for her food at my work. A child I played soccer with in Costa Rica reframed my view of happiness. I believe every single person on this planet person has the power to change another’s life, either for the better of the worse. I encourage whoever may be reading this to be open to learning something from every person they meet, even if it seems impossible. I believe in the immense, intense, life-changing power of human connections.
Anonymous
I believe in positivity. I believe that although every situation isn't perfect, just laughing can change the mood. I believe that just a smile can turn a bad day into a better one. I believe that the glass should always be half full, not half empty. Growing up, one of the many things my parents would say to me all the time is, “Life is what you make it.” When I was little and did not want to do something or go somewhere, that is not what I wanted to hear. I just knew that I didn’t want to do it because I was obviously going to be miserable if I did. But as I have grown up, I have realized not only how important this idea that my parents introduced to me is, but the impact it can make on your life. My mom is one of the most energetic and positive people I know. After a bad day at school, she would smile and start singing along to the song on the radio or say something like, “Well at least you get to go to gymnastics practice now!” Growing up with her as one of my parents really showed me that a “glass half full” perspective can make life more enjoyable. A huge part of my life is gymnastics. Gymnastics is both a physically and mentally taxing sport. There are some practices where you are pushed to your maximum physical ability, and others where you are extremely mentally tested. You can not stay physically and mentally sane if you are always serious and hard on yourself, and that is something I have learned over many years. I have learned that in order to stay motivated, happy, and in love with the sport, it is crucial to be positive. During hard practices, I would constantly remind myself that I was becoming a stronger and better gymnast. Or I would simply smile. Laughter and smiling could completely flip the mood of a very intense practice. I remember a specific, very difficult balance beam rotation where the environment was so intense and stressful that it was pushing all of us to our mental and physical capacity. Then, my teammate and I looked at eachother and smiled. For the remainder of the rotation we would just smile after completing a skill, and dance to the song playing on the radio while waiting for our turn. This helped us get through the day with a positive outlook, despite how difficult it was. This is just one example of how positivity, or just a simple smile, can change a whole situation. Something that may seem like the end of the world may not actually be all that bad. I always remind myself how fortunate I am, and that there is always someone who is in a much worse situation. Not only will positivity make your life better, but you could also brighten someone else’s day. Think of a situation where someone smiled at you and it ruined your day. That doesn’t happen! Just by smiling at someone, you could make their day. Another thing that my mom has always told me is, “Smile and the whole world will smile back”. This, I Believe.
Anonymous
From a young age I’ve always wanted to be like my father. I’ve always looked up to him with high respect and gratitude as he would come home late at night from work and get up early the next morning. It is because of this that I based my confidence on making my dad proud of me all during high school. Volleyball was my gateway towards being close with my father while also having his constant reassurance and praise. “Did you watch my game film?” I would ask eagerly awaiting his response. Every practice, every point, every match was for him. It took me four years to realize, I needed to be playing for myself. I believe in doing what makes you happy, I believe in being independent, and I believe in finding your own self-assurance. I quit volleyball because I realized I was playing for my dad, not myself and I wasn’t happy. Quitting was hard, but ultimately the best decision of my life. I found my own self-assurance doing things I actually want to do and although my father was upset, he still loves me because he’s still my father. Whether you do something as small as quitting a sport, or something bigger like quitting a job, Do it for yourself. Make yourself happy! Find your own self-assurance. In the end all you have is yourself, and your happiness and well-being should be solely based on yourself and no one else.
Anonymous
I believe in chasing freedom. Often, people don’t notice the small rights they give up in the pursuit of comfort. Marriages, houses, jobs, and children can be restricting. They force people to stay in one place and live a life of stifling regularity. Wake up, go to work, go to bed, dream of the weekend. I don’t want to be that comfortable, at least not for a long time. Slipping into the mediocrity of a life with a pattern seems like a great sacrifice to me. I feel that in order to grow and learn throughout my life, I will need to push myself constantly. This means trying everything and approaching failure without shame.
When I was younger, failure was my greatest fear. The possibility of it chased me away from new activities and back to old, safe ones. I didn’t understand that failure creates resilience and fosters growth. Once activities I had previously been successful at began to get harder, I realized that some form of failure was inevitable. Though the fear of it had trapped me for far too long, I resolved to break free of my self-imposed imprisonment.
Freeing myself from the nagging fear of failure felt wonderful. In the spirit of trying something new, I got a summer job doing trail work for the City of Boulder. As far as jobs go, it was not ideal. We sweated through hard hats and jeans while digging water bars (water drainage systems on trails) in 90 degree weather. However, at the age of 14, I took great pride in the fact that I already had a job. Earning money gave me some degree of freedom from my parents. I no longer had to inform them when I needed (or more likely, wanted) anything.
A life of mediocrity often sneaks up on people. I believe it can be avoided by doing something unexpected every once in awhile. Some of the hardest and most rewarding experiences in my life wouldn’t have happened if I allowed myself to stay trapped in an easy situation. One of these experiences was a three week backpacking trip in the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. I signed up for it without knowing what I was getting into. I’d always liked 3 day backpacking trips and thought I might as well extend one. I entered it knowing no one. I left three weeks later knowing some people a little too well. There were a few difficult people on that trip. 10 people started the trip, but we were down to 6 kids by the end. People left for reasons ranging from anorexia to depression to anger management (one boy punched another one). However, I also met some of my favorite people on that trip. Though it was a hard three weeks, I don't regret a second of them. They broke my normal pattern of summer activities and made me aware of the issues some people struggle with. I plan to continue exploring new atmospheres and pushing myself. This summer, I'm going to Israel for a couple of weeks. As a Jew, I was offered a free trip there as soon as I turned 18 by a program called Birthright Israel. Once college starts, I'm planning on doing a First Semester Away program. Through it, I will travel to Costa Rica and Belize to study Spanish, Forest Ecology, and Coral Reefs. I believe that these experiences will help me grow, as I continue to chase freedom.
Anonymous Belief is hard. I have always had to believe that life will get better, but to have to believe in the impossible is daunting. Ever since I was three years old I didn’t just believe that I was different, I knew it, and that I would never be able to change. I have never really believed in a God or in some higher being because each and every day I have had to believe in myself. In those darkest moments and times of doubt we have to turn to ourselves and the light within us. At this point in my life I don’t always believe in the road ahead, but I believe in today because life is never just about one person. Life is about having empathy and being thankful for what you have in the midst of your own struggles. I believe that each person should be able to honor his entire being and love whomever he wants and live a life that brings him joy no matter who he is. Sometimes it is truly impossible to believe that everything happens for a reason, and there are days when I feel like I am constantly moving backwards instead of forwards. I believe and I know that my happiness comes from the support in my life. There are people who have known my truth since the day I was born. There are also people who have entered my life who don’t know the truth, but in a way it is better because they only see who I truly am and not the trail that follows me. Life not only constantly measures your courage and will, but it measures the strength of your beliefs and values. If I have learned anything from my past it is that belief is just the first step to finding happiness. I believe that kindness and an open mind are the key to living an honest and fulfilling life. Every person has his own truth and even though you see the outside of people, you can’t always see what lies inside because inside is where the true belief lies.
Anonymous
I remember the day my mom walked into my room looking slightly disheartened and told me I had to get a job. This came as a slight surprise to me and at first I was reluctant to even consider it. I felt my whole life was centered around school and sports, how could there be room for a job? My mom then explained to me that it wasn't really an option, I would be paying for everything from then on, and eventually I would be paying for part of my college.
I quickly got over my doubts and went out looking. I found a job as a busboy at Parma Trattoria Restaurant. I had never worked in a restaurant before and when I began work I experienced an intense culture shock. My whole life I have been surrounded by people who have been fortunate enough to go through school and will eventually be going to college to receive a degree of their choosing. It seems foolish now to think that I didn't even consider the other side of things. I would ever have thought that I would be working alongside people who had dropped out of school, or those who were recovering from serious drug problems. Not everyone in the restaurant business is like this, however there is a very quick turnover so I had the opportunity to meet many people who were, and in what seemed like no time, they had moved on.
I remember walking into Parma completely randomly and asking for a job. I never imagined I would form relationships with the people there. Now two years later I have people in my life that I can't imagine not having met. It was just by chance that I walked into Parma two years ago and asked for a job. Now I have some of the strongest relationships that I know will last my lifetime. I still get calls from Matt, who is now 23 and working with a tech company, just to check in and catch up. Some of the most caring people I have ever met have not been wealthy educated students my age. In fact, one of my closest friends at the restaurant, one of the kindest people I have ever met, is a 33 year old illegal immigrant. He has told me the struggles he has had in his life, struggles that are incomparable to anything I or anyone I know has ever experienced.
Working at Parma has opened my eyes to the world that I otherwise would never have discovered. I feel that I was so sheltered living where I live and going to school where I go, however I didn't have to go far to find diversity and adversity. I believe my work has opened my eyes and made me a person who is not only accepting of others but is not too quick to judge them. Someone who is recovering from a drug addiction isn't a bad person. Someone who has come to this country illegally, searching for a better life is not a bad person. People deserve the opportunity to start anew and prove who they really are. I believe my work has taught me to be mindful of my own situation. Everyone has such different experiences and they have all come together in one place. I have learned to appreciate what I have, and I have learned to connect with others and to empathize with their situations. Working throughout high school was stressful. It can be difficult to maintain academics when you are getting home at 10:30 three or four nights a week. However, I believe it has made me a better person and I believe it has opened my eyes to the world and to many new kinds of people. I believe that, despite vastly different backgrounds, people are inherently good and we cannot count someone out just because we perceive them to be different from ourselves.
Drew Prinster New faces. So many new faces. Carefree boys playing soccer in the grass. Pretty girls sitting on the short brick wall. Basketball bounces, sounds of tetherball chains in the wind. And the talking. So much talking. The chatter is a wash, incomprehensible. And then there’s me.
I stand in the middle of the noise, anchored—no, paralyzed—under the schoolhouse overhang, my timid nine-year-old eyes darting unsettled between bustling students. I know I should talk to someone, but a voice inside me won’t allow it. You’re the new kid, it says. You don’t belong here unless they invite you.
A school-bell rings, saving me from my awkwardness, and I sigh in relief. Finally, a direction. Like ants, everyone funnels towards the fourth-grade door. I walk along too, and as I move I start to calm down. Even if I can’t fit in, maybe blending with the crowd will be enough.
My teacher is nice. It’s the first day for everyone so she doesn’t know that I’m new, but she notices when I don’t have anywhere to sit and guides me to a table. The people there are nice too. They smile, say hi, and introduce themselves. So kind. So welcoming. But so not home.
I zone out during the algebra and spelling lessons, my mind back with my friends in Colorado Springs. Why did we leave? I was so happy there. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that happy again.
Before I know it, another bell rings, and everyone rushes back outside. Recess, I realize. I’m the last one out the door, not because I want to be polite, but because I don’t want anyone to watch me slink aimlessly around.
And I do just that. As I walk, I glance inconspicuous yet jealous glances at the happy kids. Foursquare, jungle gyms, jump rope. Hop-scotch and tag. Finally I see kids playing soccer again, and I walk nervously towards them, but before I’m too close I stop and turn away. A slow tear rolls down my cheek, and my eyes go blurry. I’m not sure how long I stand there before I feel a touch on my shoulder. A boy with curly brown hair smiles at me, holding the soccer ball. “Want to play?”
I’m taken aback. Me? I thought, certain that he must have mistaken me for someone else. But he stayed put, welcoming, and my mouth warmed into a small, grateful smile.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” I say.
After the first couple passes of the game, something clicks in me and I start to let go, just a little bit. Soccer isn’t so different in Boulder than Colorado Springs, I realize. It had just been a small gesture and a leather ball, but I was already starting to feel connected.
***
It’s nine years later now, and I often go running on a path that takes me right by Eisenhower Elementary School. Whenever I see the playground, the classroom windows, the young kids playing pickup soccer, I can’t help but remember that first terrifying day of fourth grade and reflect on how far I’ve come since. At age eighteen and about to graduate high school, that day was half a lifetime ago. But it seems like yesterday and forever in the past at the same time.
Since that day, I’ve grown a remarkable amount (and I’m not just talking about the one foot, eight inch height difference). Although I wouldn’t say that I’m an entirely different person now, I do think it’s safe to say that I am far more experienced, far more confident, and far more self-aware than before. I’ve had opportunities to explore my interests from soccer to skiing, piano to saxophone, ecology to biochemistry, poetry to acting, service to leading, and much more. I’ve had opportunities to find parts of myself within different communities ranging from the soccer bros to the affectionately dubbed “nerd herd.” Perhaps most importantly, however, I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on what I believe.
I’ve come to believe in a number of ideals, such as compassion, optimism, and integrity. If I had to sum up all of my current beliefs in one word, however, that word would probably be interconnectedness. That is, I believe in—and I know this sounds grandiose, but bear with me—the concept that every individual, every living thing, and every inanimate particle is inherently and inextricably part of the much larger world.
Anyone can cognitively understand this argument. We—as in all humans—share the same sun, the same Earth and the same breathing air, among other forms of physical resources. To take it a step further, we are each composed of atoms that have found their way to us by late neanderthals, dinosaurs, and other long extinct creatures. However, I think that there is a difference between cognitive understanding and believing. Believing requires a level of emotional understanding that, together with the cognitive understanding, can produce a cohesive, articulate belief that becomes more of a life rule, perspective, or compass than a branding motto. This emotional understanding is what I began to develop that first day in fourth grade.
That day was the first time I can remember ever feeling completely out of place, completely sad, and completely lost. It forced me to realize that the background I had grown up in and the friends I had known were not fixed, guaranteed elements of my life, but rather they were simply minor side effects of my parents’ initial decision to raise me in Colorado Springs. It forced me to question who I could have been if I had been born in a different location, met different people, and was exposed to different thoughts. It forced me to confront the undeniable reality that I am, to some extent, simply the product of my experiences.
This simple insight is having profound implications for the way I see the world. It’s allowing me to be more understanding of abilities and disabilities, understanding of behaviors like self-consciousness and egoism, understanding of cultural biases and diverse worldviews and so much more because, if circumstances were different, every person I meet could represent what I would be like if born in their circumstances. This is the type of emotional understanding of interconnectedness that I’m referring to, and although I don’t think I’ll ever be able to perfect it, I constantly strive towards it nonetheless. I believe that regardless of where you come from, what language you speak, what color you are, what interests you have, or who you are, I can see a little bit of myself in you. And I believe that you can see a little bit of yourself in me too. If you look close enough.
Claire Jamison
A few days ago, in class, Ms. Nieb was talking about her grandmother. As she described her grandmother, and the mesh of many religions she had, Ms. Nieb said one phrase that caught me slightly off guard , “She was a woman who collected cultures and experiences.” And as I sat there, listening to the rest of her story, about the woman who influenced one of Ms. Nieb's core beliefs, I realized that that was what I wanted in my life, what I was essentially designing my entire life to do. All I’ve really wanted to do, since I was little, is to travel, explore, and collect cultures and experiences.
At three years old, I had an imaginary friend who could go anywhere she wanted through some sort of imagination-made, super high tech vehicle. She traveled the world, bringing me back stories and advice. At age five, my little sister was born and we started going on an annual mission trip to Mexico that allowed me to see and interact with a completely different culture, one that was made up of cardboard houses (literally), and hand gestures for when I couldn’t speak the language. As we went on that trip, year after year, twelve years in a row now, my memories of the trip blurred together, and my understanding of the culture, people, society and what it was like to live in poverty grew. My knowledge of interacting with strangers in a strange land, speaking a strange language grew with each year, as did my knowledge of basic carpentry and how to build a house.
When I was twelve, my uncle was stationed at the air force base in Germany and we got to visit him and my cousins, allowing me to experience another very different culture. It gave me a certain kind of confidence in traveling that only comes with being forced to navigate a foreign airport or train station by yourself. At fifteen, I went to Belize on an Educational Tour with Mr. Lewis, and learned that I never wanted to travel on a tour again because I didn’t have the freedom to do the things I wanted. At sixteen, I started looking at colleges and the thought of signing another four years of my life away to a classroom almost killed me, the need and desire to travel tinting almost every aspect of my life. At seventeen I started to design my life so that I could travel. I began telling people I wanted to go into computer science, a field I have absolutely no experience in, but knew that if my work was Wifi based, I could work remotely and that meant that I could work from anywhere in the world. I could work with my clients and be thousands of miles away, and that was so appealing that I convinced myself that I can do it, even though I might find that I can’t.
And as I was asked what I believe in, by teachers and students alike for assignments and even just for conversation, I began to realize that though there are many things I believe in, the most influential ideal that I have sought out the most throughout my life has been the need to travel, to collect cultures and experiences. While I may have been raised in hospitality, Christianity and a family-oriented house, this is the one ideal that I can call my own, the one thing that I have internalized to the point of considering not going to college at all. (Don’t worry; I am still going.)
Over the past few weeks, as I have thought more and more about the future, who I am, and what my core values are; I have realized that I am probably not who I think I am and I’m definitely not who I want to be, and that I want, desperately, to find those two things. I have determined that to find these things, I want to see how other people live, how other cultures work, and to discover a thousand things that I never thought that I could know. In these past few weeks, I have learned that I want nothing more than to travel, learn, smell, taste, explore and engage my senses and do new things and meet new people.
In these past few weeks, I have realized how much it saddens me that half of the people I know are going to CU next fall and that the other half are going to CSU. I do not wish to make another person’s decision and I recognize that everyone I know will have new experiences and meet new people next year and I would never try to dissuade a person away from a decision like that. It's just that, for me, CU and CSU feel safe, too safe. They feel so close it makes me slightly claustrophobic to think about going there. Over these past few weeks, the last of senior year, of safety and of someone else telling me what to do and of boredom, I have come to know that, for me, travelling and experiencing new things is what I want. I have discovered that to do the things I want to do will broaden my mind and open my heart and fill my soul and change me. And I want that. Desperately, I want that. This, I believe.
Ben Gelderloos
When everything around you is big, it is hard not to feel small. Whether I am perched on top of a mountain looking at distant ranges or far away cities or staring at tall rock walls that make you crane your head to fully see, I always feel as if my problems are miniscule. After all, how could some argument or bit of stress matter to a mountain. I believe in gaining an element of perspective so that I can appreciate that everything is so much larger than me.
As humans, we have developed a part of ourselves that makes us think we are great . We hustle around and compare our problems to others, but as soon as you step into the world , you see that there is so much more than the problems you created . The decisions that we make are not nearly as consequential as we think . With the pressures of school and life, I often find myself wrapped up in my own problems- It’s easy to get wrapped up in that test next period and all its potential consequences. But then I go climb a mountain or bike up a hill. As the plains get large and the horizons widen I can feel my worries float away. It is impossible to feel that anything that you will do will have a large impact of the world. It is the universe that has control over everything around me and as much as I hope to have control over the events in my life, seeing the incredibly spectacular world shows me there are forces much greater than me.
Unfortunately, gaining a little perspective doesn’t make you give up on your problems. Instead, I always find that I am able to approach what is bothering me with a fresh r perspective. I know that whatever happens, it is not as consequential as I previously thought. The stress evaporates and I feel the same calm that the mountains must feel knowing that the power of the earth is greater than them. I believe in perspective.
Carina Schmid Count Your Blessings
Everyone should be grateful for what he has. As an elementary school child, I wanted to be as much like the other kids as I could be. Other people were going on trips to Hawaii, so I wanted to also. They had a TV so I wanted a TV. They didn’t talk about going to Church, so I didn’t either. I didn’t want to go to Hawaii because I thought it would be fun, and I didn’t want a TV because I wanted to actually watch it; I wanted these things because that is what everyone else had. This I realized as a teenager when I expanded my horizons beyond the false elementary school reality of a stereotypical family.
As I got older I realized how much I really appreciate my family: my married parents and four younger siblings. Although every year we take a road trip instead of flying somewhere and we’re all squished in all seven seats of the old minivan, those are the memories that no amount of money can buy. I realized how broken some of my friends’ families were because of divorced parents or family members with drug and alcohol addictions. I came to the realization of just how blessed I am to live in a loving family. Having a picnic dinner in the minivan during a thunderstorm while camping is just one of the priceless lifelong memories I have of growing up. I no longer miss the fact that our family doesn’t fly seven people to exotic vacation destinations every summer. I’ve realized how much I’ve gotten to experience having the opportunity to grow up never owning or watching TV (besides the occasional movie). I’m lucky enough to have a healthy family, for which I could not be more grateful.
So, over the years I have realized it is not the big things in life that I need or even want. It is the small things with big meaning. It is important to be grateful for what one has, not always wanting more of what one doesn’t have. This I believe.
Lili Cushing-Quevli
One of my happiest moments in my life was when my good friend, who moved away to California in elementary school, came to surprise me at school. I was spending the lunch period doing homework, as I usually did. My other good friend, who also went to Fairview, came with her and surprised me. Our trio from elementary school was now complete. We spontaneously left school to go get a box of doughnuts and eat them in the car, catching up and laughing about superficial things. She could only stay with us for a couple hours before she had to leave again, though. Even so, that moment will always be special to me.
I’ve often wished I could be a person who could see into the future. I could fix all my mistakes and be happy and live a placid, successful life, before I even made them. I could see everything stretched out in front of me, clear as day. Of course, the future is never set in stone, and therefore cannot be seen as clearly as a I might wish it to be.
I’ve spent my days in high school thinking about the future, yet stuck in the past. All my skills that I’ve honed, the courses and tests I’ve forced myself to study for and take, were all for the sake of a distant future, in which I can hopefully be successful. But there are times that I rewind moments, things that I never wish would never end– small things like laying on the floor watching movies with my best friend, or the relaxing feeling of hugging a loved one, to big things like high school graduation and dances, to parties and meeting with friends I haven’t seen all together in a long time.
I spent a long time being anxious and regretful over things that I should not have worried as much about. For the longest time, even in freshman year, I was already worrying about the ACTs and SATs and my potential score. I spent a long time regretting past actions and worrying about the future and what it would bring. I spent a long time running away from my problems instead of facing them. While many of friends were uncertain of the future like I was, they took off running and found their passions and refined who they were. I had one foot stuck in the past and the other in the future, without much thought to what I was doing in the here and now. I spent so much time being anxious about the future, but never took action to get myself there.
I believe that while the past and future are important, sometimes the best course of action is just to experience that moment, because the best and happiest moments are often unplanned or unexpected. After all, in every story and adventure, there are bound to be hardships and anxiety, but there is also hope and happiness there as well, with the expectation that there will be more awaiting me in the future. Those moments that weave from thrilling to stressful to joyful that I’m drawn to, even while being terrified of them– I guess it’s something that I’ll just have to figure out for myself along the way.
Olivia Hays This I believe…….That I believe. What I believe. Who I believe….Do I believe? What do I believe? My mind is as blank as a fresh warm sheet of printer paper delivered from the device which has failed to complete its task. Instead, the cliches and annoying buzz of college essay topics and hardships litter the recycling complex that is my brain. I hope. But I do not find anything which my ever-so controlling brain will allow me to fully believe in. Thinking of the journey of life, its mystery, relative short duration, and insignificance, has given me utmost appreciation for written word or thought. The words of the poets, playwrights, and authors we read in class are transcendent over time, generations, and death. Their work, an expression of their thoughts, of themselves, is the only way in which they are remembered or influential post-passing. Afraid of grasping the concept of my own futility in the timeline of the Earth and humankind, I mitigated worry with wistful thoughts of becoming a terrifically revolutionary and relevant author thus ensuring my grasp on this world. However, upon my seventh stare down, the condescending sheet almost smirking, asks, “What do you believe, sweetheart? Try to write a paper about what your heart believes.” I’ve realized I am perhaps not destined to be the next Beckett. Regardless, I’ve given in to my conscience, and in spite of the taunting paper I will not write in accordance to this prompt, but in its direct contrast. I am no longer just the young unaware, side-walk-chalking, carefree, animal-loving girl I once had the luxury of being. I instead am the well-educated (young) adult, aware but unsure about life’s very real, gray as can be, questions. Comfortable in the very blessed, and happy blanket-like construct of my life- family, God, school, sports, friends- I am apprehensively well aware that the covers have been grasped and are about to be yanked off, never to return in quite the same way. As I begin to experience my first “lasts”, I realize that at this relative point of time things will not be the same for me again. This definitiveness is obviously overwhelming. I do not yet know where I fit in this large world and am struggling to define myself without the absurdly amazing friends and family to whom I will soon say goodbye and relate with in an entirely different and never reverting manner. Hopes, dreams, morals, and love sit cross-legged at the very center of my soul. As I am trying to navigate an environment changing before my eyes, say that of a Dali painting, I am confused. This I can say: I am unsure in what I believe, but this I also know: I will be sure sometime soon.
Zoe Stern
Sometimes there are memories that you’d rather just forget. Sometimes there’s memories that are so painful that your brain naturally losses fragments of it and you’re left with a hole-filled memory with a lot of missing pieces. Unfortunately though, those memories will stick with you and you can’t just leave them behind.
High school has honestly been the worst years of my life. I have experienced depression, anxiety, and just not being happy. Honestly freshman and sophomore year were probably the worst of the four years and I hardly remember any of those two years. I know that not one big terrible event happened but those years still were the worst I’ve been through so far. I honestly don’t want to redo those years though. I honestly do not want to go back and change anything or try to make them better. I believe that hard times make you stronger and shape who you are. Here’s why:
When something bad happens or you go through a bad time, a truly horrible time, you get a better understanding. People can say they understand how you’re feeling and what you’re going through but they can’t. They can be sympathetic and caring but they can’t truly understand what you’re going through unless they have themselves. Yes, it’s never easy going through hard times but you end up with a deeper understanding in the end.
You got through the hardship. You experienced a bad time and yet you’re still here and still going. You’re strong.
Your life isn’t going to be a breeze for all of it. You’re going to go through hard times again. Maybe a family member dies. You’re life can’t just be perfect. Knowing that you’ve been through hard times and knowing you made it out okay makes going through hard times again a little easier. At least you know things will actually get better instead of feeling helpless and out of control.
There’s definitely a lot of memories that I would never want to relive but I believe that they should not ever be erased or fixed. Horrible events, depressing times, they all make you stronger and shape who you are. I believe that you can’t just erase and reinvent the bad things. I believe that they make you stronger.
Teddy Lewitt
I believe in a world where we have peace. Where dog lovers and cat lovers coexist and see the merits in each other’s breed. Where burrito lovers and bowl lovers at Chipotle end the useless hostilities towards one another.
I believe in a world where science plays a part in political policy and we refund and over-fund NASA and other scientific research organizations.
I believe in a world where foreign aid given by the United States and other world powers goes to aid those in need instead of filling the pockets of the charities and local politicians for the areas that need the help.
I believe in a world where world hunger and thirst are brought to a swift end by a community of countries seeing that all humans deserve basic survival needs.
I believe in a world where there is a basic liveable wage for everyone so they can pursue their passion, whether it be art or athletics or science
I see a world where we will leave the earth behind and venture into our solar system, our galaxy and our universe and be prepared to make peaceful contact with other life forms.
I see a world where we forget our stigma against nuclear power and see it as the future of our existence and a clean, viable source of energy.
I believe in a world where there is no language barrier and everyone speaks a common global language. This is a language that needs to be created and not based on any current language. I believe in a world where religion is viewed as a guideline for kindness and morality and not used as an excuse to kill or steal.
Kate Snedeker
I don’t believe in Fate or a God or any higher power that influences my life or my path, I do however trust. For me it is not the lack of belief that fuels me, it is the presence of trust that everything will be okay eventually. The distinction between belief and trust is important to me because belief is based in blind faith of the unknown–I have great respect for people who are capable of this blind faith–whereas the trust that everything will be okay or work out surrounds what I have evidence of, even if it is anecdotal. This trust is what keeps me from going insane when my world is turned upside down.
When I was seven years old my brother got sick, really sick. His immune system practically shut down: he lost the ability to move his legs without being in extreme pain, he became extremely sensitive to light. He was wheelchair bound and unable to move below the waist, he had to wear light canceling glasses to assuage the migraines that would plague him. His condition became his existence, and he continued to deteriorate with no diagnosis in sight. My parents tried their best to shield me from the reality of nonstop depressing doctor appointments and my brother’s condition, but I still heard. I was living in a constant state of panic, unable to express my fear to my parents because I was afraid of getting in trouble for listening on to my parents’ conversations with Jon’s Doctor. The only ray of light that I could hang onto when I was younger, that I still cling to, is my mother’s voice telling me to “Trust that everything will be okay.” And it was; my brother got better, regained his ability to walk, run, and play.
My brother’s illness was the first monumental time where I have needed something to hang on to, but it certainly wasn’t the last. When my childhood pet died, I was okay. When I had to move away from my friends, I was okay. When I developed nerve damage resulting in a year long asymmetrical arm paralysis, I was okay. Trusting that whatever happens, you will be okay, provides comfort when the world feels cruel and chaotic.Trusting that everything will eventually be okay takes a patience that I don’t always have. However, I have learned that trusting that everything will be okay is infinitely better than drowning in fear. What doesn’t kill you forces you to adapt to a new and potentially terrifying life; it forces you to alter your perspective to look for the ever evasive silver lining. Throughout my life regardless of what happened, is happening, or inevitably will happen, I find a vast amount of comfort in trusting that life will be okay. It’s a matter of perspective.
Emma Prostko
I believe that vulnerability is empowering. Opening sides of yourself that show weaknesses is not only integral in personal growth, but also in building trusting and lasting relationships with people. Circumstance does not define who you are, it is simply a test to show your true colors and see how you react to adversity. I never used to believe in this. In fact I always thought that the things in my life that had held me back, whether financial or familial, were the determining factors in my future. However, I’ve learned that these are the exact things that have shaped who I am today. The most difficult aspects of my life are also the ones that prove to me that I am the person I believe to be.
Without tests in life there would be no accomplishments or realizations. If I had never failed a test or missed a shot I would never have learned about what it meant to really work hard. If I had only seen perfect relationships then I would have not known that they require effort and consideration of both people. These circumstances, whether voluntary or not, are what make us who we are. I believe that embracing the aspects of your life that are difficult to look at or work on are what allow us to live fully without regret. If you live your life always denying a part of yourself, either good or bad, then it will be impossible to ever live up to your full potential.
By reflecting on past mistakes and what needs improvement, you free yourself from the restrictions of trying to hide who you are. Instead, you make your life better in that if you ever want change you know where to go, and if not you can always remain how you are. Change is difficult, but with it comes a kind of growth that is rewarding. That knowledge you gain allows for a possible future willingness to try to keep improving. Addressing your own vulnerabilities not only creates a freedom within yourself, but it also opens doors between you and others. Everyone has their own weaknesses, and by accepting your own--whether it be your family, background, or common mistakes--we can see that there are many more connections between us all even if it seems as though we are all so different from each other. Doing this lets us make even deeper connections in our relationships with people, and provides us with the tools to combat any future adversity that we will face.
Miranda Lee-Foltz On Being Human I believe that fear is legitimate. I’ve often struggled with indecision. Picking a single ice cream flavor to have as a Sunday treat? Hard. Choosing what college to go to? Decidedly troublesome. And, well, selecting a topic for a “This I Believe” essay due at the end of senior year? Nearly impossible. But why? Why is it that I am seemingly unable to make any decision without weighing all the options, doubting myself, changing my mind, agonizing over the pros and cons, changing my mind again, and then finally making a choice that I will probably lie awake at night wondering about? The answer, I’ve found, comes down to one thing: fear. I am constantly afraid. Afraid of hurting myself or hurting others in the decisions I make. Afraid of making a mistake or making the “wrong” choice (whatever I may perceive that to be in the moment). In gymnastics, like in the rest of my life, I am constantly afraid. For the longest time, I felt that my fear was something that I had to hide. I was ashamed that before doing a standing backflip or back handspring on beam, I had to stamp down a rising sense of dread no matter how many times I’d done the skill. When I started learning Tsuks (a flipping vault), I was terrified before every single turn that I did the skill. Not saying to your teammates “oh I’m a bit scared” but full on hands shaking, sweaty feet, trying to breath steadily because your body wants to hyperventilate terrified. It wasn’t until I did my very first successful one of that skill that I confessed to my coach that I was scared. I expected her to tell me to ignore my fear, that what mattered was doing the skill. Instead she told me that my fear was natural. Because in gymnastics, like in life, there are so many mistakes that can be made and it’s okay to be afraid of them. A lot of times, fear is perceived as bad. It’s perceived as a lack of something: courage, bravery, call it what you want. If my confronting fear is celebrated in gymnastics, why should I not celebrate it in my everyday life as well? That’s why I propose that we revel in our fear, treating it not as a sign of weakness or even an obstacle to be overcome but as something normal. I’ve found that treating my fear as something human has allowed me to be kinder to myself. So, next time I’m facing a major decision in my life, I will absolutely agonize over the details, absolutely be terrified out of my mind, but, I won’t find it to be a fault within myself.
Michelle Fellows-Kofman
During his commencement address to Kenyon College, David Foster Wallace tells an anecdote of two younger fish swimming along one morning, when a much older and wiser fish comes along. The wiser fish says to the younger fish, “Morning boys! How’s the water?” The one fish looks to the other and says, “What the hell is water?”
I know it’s strange to think that a fish wouldn’t know what water is, but logically it makes sense why a fish wouldn’t be aware of something that has always been there. It has probably never been out of the water, never experienced air. So how are we, as current or past Fairview High School Students, the same as fish? What is our water?
David Foster Wallace speaks to the point that humans are naturally self centered because we legitimately see the world that revolves around us. Wallace recognizes the difficulty it takes to step out of our bubble of self interest to see and appreciate the things we might find annoying such as, bumper to bumper traffic or a slow moving line at the supermarket.
I want to take this one step farther. A lot has happened over my lifetime that has made me see our world much differently. Hate, racism, misogyny, violence, terror, and fear are a few of the divisive and painful plagues that have polluted the water of human existence we swim in every day. So the big question now is, how do we clean this mess up?
We have a responsibility to be aware of what’s going on around us and to be compassionate to ourselves and to others. I believe that many of the world’s ills have stemmed from our inability to step out of our bubble of self-interest and consider things from another perspective. When we pollute our waters, it affects us all. But, with awareness we can step out of our self-interest and realize that we are not separate from one another. We all share one water and one desire for happiness, and it is everyone’s responsibility to honor that.
Cammie Keel
Throughout my life, I have felt an almost magnetic pull to the power of communication. It started as a love of storytelling. My mother used to read Dr. Seuss's The Lorax to my sister and me, and my sister would light up, delighted (by the pictures most likely, as she was only two). But I took her joy to mean she loved the story, and I memorized it so I could tell it to her. My mom assumes the reason I remembered the book so well was because of the bond my sister and I shared through it. For me, communication has always been the foundation of powerful human connection and I have found comfort, excitement, intrigue, and inspiration in words.
Then I found spoken word, a medium in which each choice is deliberate and essential to the overall piece. I pulled myself through mental health complications by keeping the mindset that, like poetry, each event in my life was contributing to my greater story. Poetry became a tool for empowerment, and I learned of the great strength that communication holds. At its core, communication is about listening and responding to the needs of others. My goal is to take the lessons taught to me by those who have different obstacles and struggles than I and bring them onto the stage, and into the eye of my community, in a creative way.
Because of all that poetry has given me in my life, my core belief is in the power of communication. All my other passions are rooted in effective communication. Only through discussing threats to our environment will be able to work towards solutions that can mediate them. Only through publicizing the inner workings of our government will our citizens be able to participate in its operation. And only through rallying for what we believe in will we be able to make social change. It is so important to me that we continue to promote healthy discussion and collaboration in all aspects of our lives so that we can function in a world that is equitable for everyone in it. On all levels, from the personal to societal, I strive to communicate well with others. Of course, effective communication goes beyond expressing yourself: it takes into account careful listening and accommodation of the needs and feelings of others. It is so important that we relate to each other in a way that allows for different opinions to be discussed openly. Everything that is important to me is based on communicating with others, which is why I carry that as my core belief.
Ceal Willet I believe in the power of the unexpected.
I was recently reminded of this belief while left to my own devices— for the span of a day— in New York City. Although, for me, this was far from a new, riveting experience. In fact, it had become something of an expectation, a staple of my childhood as the daughter of a native Manhattanite, a Manhattanite who believed a moment idle was a moment wasted in The Big Apple. His nights were late and his mornings even later, and my grandmother’s apartment presented little but art that scared me almost as much as her stories did.
So, I’d go out.
And when you're a teenage girl in a city of strangers with nothing but a MetroCard and time to kill, you learn to keep yourself occupied. My occupation, having exhausted most museums, consisted of zipping around the city with a sketchbook and drawing strangers. New Yorkers, I found, are great subjects, so I’d find a park bench or a coffee shop and sketch covertly. Emphasis on the covertly, because I’d construct elaborate strategies and covers to ensure my subjects never knew that I was using them to practice crosshatching.
My favorite locale was the subway. There was no shortage of people, from all walks of life, and the position of sitting across from your subject is ideal for artistic subterfuge. I’d fill entire sketchbooks, with at least two thirds of the pages consisting of the plethora of characters you observe in any given subway car.
Rumbling away to Washington Square Park, I quickly noted that the man sitting across from me posed a challenge— baggy, formless clothes, hunched over, messy hair, strained hands. He was scribbling furiously in a notebook, his face stern. I could hear the wail of music in his headphones.
I began with his head, then scratched out the edges of his shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman next to me glance over… Then down at my paper, up to the man, and back to me with a wry smile. I shot her a pair of raised eyebrows and a nervous smile.
Don’t say anything!
For the next twenty-odd minutes, she watched. The little boy to her right climbed onto her lap, his eyes transfixed. The only hard thing was that my subject— the man— kept abruptly shifting and tensing without warning. His right hand, coiled around a pen, was impossible to pin down. But I finished, after a time. I outlined the bulk angles of the seats and the nondescript heads of the people behind them.
As I was about to turn the page, I felt a tap on my shoulder. The woman drew a manicured finger over my drawing, with two soft taps, and brought it up to jab at the man, still focused on his notebook. She jerked her head in his direction. Show him!
I bit my lip and my head shook furiously, almost of its own volition. I couldn’t.
Her eyes bore into mine, her tongue poking through the side of her cheek. A giggle burst out of her son, and their combined efforts made me cave.
I had hoped that the man would be too big of a space cadet to notice when I, rather stiffly, turned my book over to face him. Yet, just over the edge of the page, I saw his eyes widen. Where, a moment earlier, his face was all hard lines and sharp angles, a broad smile stretched open.
I couldn’t help but smile, too— despite the embarrassment— when he looked at me quizzically and pointed up at his own chest. Yes, I wanted to say, I’ve been staring you down and drawing your every contour. Please don’t press charges. Instead, he spoke, tugging off his headphones. “Can I look?” He asked. After I beckoned him over, he goaded me into showing him my other drawings. I explained that I’m not from here, that this is how I spend my days when my dad takes me out to visit, that it’s all just for practice. He laughed out loud when I flipped to a portrait of a shabby, older man in Central Park, who caught my eye with the four dogs he had leashed around him. His arm was resting on the head of a sleeping German Shepard. “I know it’s all for practice and you don’t mean anything by it,” the man began, scratching the back of his neck. “but you have no idea how much this means to me.”
He explained that what he was writing in that notebook was a letter to his closest friend, who had died a few days earlier. He was writing everything he wished he would have said to him, before their time ran out.
“He loved talking to strangers. And he loved crazy things like this, so I sorta feel like there was a reason, you know? Why you happened to draw me, I mean. So, thank you.”
I was at a loss for words. The man touched the page he was on, and asked me if he could keep it. I said only if I could take a picture first. The woman next to us, and her son, watched with grins I could tell they were trying to hide.
When we parted ways, after seven more stops and quite the conversation, my subject folded my sketch into the pages of his notebook and me into a hug. I believe in the power of the unexpected—for it’s when we least expect it that we find the moments most moving.
Ryan Tseng
This I believe. I’m usually very excited when it comes to these prompts given I do consider myself an individualist and this presents an opportunity for me to express my ‘unique perspective’ that I’m sure everyone would be dying to hear, but given the recent IB tests I just took... I can say I’m just not feeling it. So instead I’ll talk about something that makes me happy and doesn’t require much thought to talk about: motorcycling.
To be honest, I really did not see the appeal of a life on two wheels. A car really was much better. Heated steering wheels, cooled seats, stereo system, why would I give that up for a loud, uncomfortable ride which I can’t even carry a grocery’s with. Living so close to Fairview, my mom proposed I get a scooter. I thought this was the stupidest idea ever. Not only would I not be able to drive other people but what I had in my head at the time was: What type of guy would want to be seen on a moped? I’m perfectly happy with my car as is. It must be kept in mind that at the time, I wanted a huge lifted truck to roll coal in, with an unnatural sounding blow off valve. Well... as a result of an impulse buy, a blue Honda metropolitan showed up at my house. This could not be any more cliché of a scooter. It had round mirrors, round headlights and a blue polycarbonate body. The epitome of social suicide has showed up at my door. My first reaction can be symbolized with the ‘rolling eyes’ emoji’ or the recent ‘face palm’ emoji, but surly enough I was a tad interested and embarrassed to give it ago. I wasn’t sure what to expect. It seemed like a very heavy bicycle. I pressed the red start button and one can say that it was that second my love for motorcycles was ignited. It was a slow scooter. I barely pushed 25 going down NCAR but it was enough for me to change my opinions all together. I showed up the next day at school, no shame, on a blue scooter that seemed like would have been perfect as an accessory for a Ken doll.
A few weeks passed and I quickly traded up for a fast scooter. Still could not get a real motorcycle as I didn’t have a license yet. My Zuma 50 was still a little quirky at first sight with the two big head lights up in front, bit it defiantly was something I enjoyed riding every day. Rain, Snow, or Hail. It’s small enough to get away with the occasional hooligan-ism where I had fun sliding around on random dirt trails and dipping in mud, but at the same time just fast enough for me to have gotten multiple tickets from the speed van on Greenbrier, but psst, guess what? I don’t need a license plate so I remain the anonymous rider in an orange jacket and yellow gloves that can get his picture taken all day long by a dude in a minivan.
The natural next step was to get an actual motorcycle endorsement so I can get on an actual bike. I took the MSF course, and I have to admit, if I got a dollar for each time I stalled, I would be well on my way to a full ride scholarship. A week later, I had an ‘M” on my Colorado Drivers License and was ready to get on my first actual motorcycle, a CB500F. The start button looked exactly the same as my scooter but the second I pressed it, there was no resemblance. The experience is almost indescribable, where counter-intuitively you now have an angry parallel twin between your legs and 5 gallons of gasoline right in front of it. As I rode it around the neighborhood, I will admit, I was scared. My clutch operation was quite crude where the CB jerked and bucked similar to the first time I rode a horse, but once you even decide to manipulate the throttle slightly, you feel 8000 RPM unleashing utter hell beneath you.
Fast forward to today, the excitement roaring through the canons simply has not subsided. To my left, my AP Bio notes sit and to my right, my keys sit. It is hopelessly cancerous; my hand twitches to want to get on and ride, forgetting the upcoming testing that stares me down. Well who knows, like I said on my snapchat story, at least I’ve invested in the right gear that will protect me from the beat down from paper 2.