"Kindness in Action" - Every year, my high school cheer team hosts a Youth Clinic. At the clinic, high school cheerleaders teach the younger kids some gameday material. On Friday night, the Youth Clinic participants join the high schoolers to cheer the Robbinsville Ravens on to victory. This fall, I was assigned the role of a group leader for the second graders attending. When all the girls ran up to me, they were bundles of enthusiasm. Quickly, it became clear to me that, within my group, all but one of the girls were best friends. About halfway through the clinic, I noticed the girl sitting alone during one of our water breaks. I walked up to her and sat criss-cross on the floor beside her. I asked her how she was doing and if she was having fun. She shook her head and told me that the other girls weren’t including her. The hurt in her eyes broke my heart. Squeezing her hand, I said I was sorry they were doing that. At this moment, I figured there were two ways I could handle this situation: scold the other girls for their actions or become the best friend this girl needed. I chose the latter. During our first conversation, she had mentioned that she had just gotten a kitten. I asked her about the kitten and immediately her eyes lit up. The rest of the clinic, she remained glued to me. In life, you need one good friend. Being that one good friend for this girl completely changed her experience. While a cheer clinic may seem unimportant, the feeling of exclusion certainly isn’t. By the end of the clinic, this girl was a part of something bigger than a little friend group. She was a part of a team, a community. "Creating Connection" - The leadership role I’m the most proud of is serving on the Play Unified Executive Board for the past three years. As Activities Director, it’s my responsibility to come up with plans for our meetings that will foster peer relationships between Gen and Special Ed students. Being a Unified club, I go into every meeting with the ultimate goal of promoting inclusivity. Last April, one of the club members, Dylan, asked if we could work together to make a presentation for Autism Awareness Month. He wanted an opportunity to share his experience and to educate the other club members about Autism. Together, we created a presentation explaining common characteristics, treatments, and what makes Autism awesome in his experience. With patience and collaboration, the two of us were able to create something we both were very proud of. At our April meeting, I was amazed with Dylan’s confidence as he read through the presentation, remembering how shy he had been just the year prior. The loving community of Play Unified helped make that confidence possible. Dylan knew there would be no laughter and that there was no judgment happening inside our meeting room. Inclusivity doesn’t just happen overnight, it takes time. The security felt by all club members has been years in the making. It’s formed through countless games of Bingo and Pictionary. It's strengthened through the smiles shared in the hallways between club members. It’s spread through the school-wide corn hole tournament, where club members compete against anyone in the student body. Being Activities Director has been rewarding in so many ways. The beautiful relationships I’ve seen formed are ones I know will last long past high school and I’m grateful to have helped create a sense of belonging for so many.

Days before my freshman year would commence, I found myself staring at a class schedule that caused red panic alarms to go off in my brain. The rumors were true. Mr. Holub, an eight grade History teacher, would be moving up to teach at the high school. Although I hadn’t been taught by him the prior year, his reputation preceded him and the daunting stories of his high expectations caused my throat to tighten. History has long been my favorite course in school. But, “historically”, it’d also always been an easy class for me. With Mr. Holub as my teacher, I knew that was bound to change. My first day came and I soon found myself surrounded by whispers of fear from students who’d had him last year. As the bell rang, I walked in, anticipating the worst. When the bell rang again, I left the room with a shocking bout of determination. Mr. Holub set a no tolerance for slackers early on. However, more importantly, Mr. Holub made his faith in all of us abundantly clear. Never had I felt such an unwavering confidence from a teacher so quickly before. He was blunt and he was honest, treating his young students like adults. Right away, his workload left me stunned. I spent hours reading texts on forced Native American assimilation, John D. Rockefeller’s monopolization of the oil industry, and FDA regulation reform. I worked hard, wanting more than anything to impress my teacher. Mr. Holub’s praise was hard to come by, making me want it even more. Our first big assignment was to submit annotations about radical reconstruction following the Civil War. I turned it in, desperate for a rewarding grade. I was smacked in the face with the opposite. Feeling embarrassed more than anything, I’d never received feedback that critical before. This could have been a devastating defeat. Instead, I saw this as an opportunity to grow. I went up to Mr. Holub, asking him about how I could improve. With his guidance, I worked relentlessly the following weeks, not turning in any work until I was completely satisfied with it. My work ethic transformed, and I slowly started to see my hard work pay off, with my grade in the class improving. At the same time, I could feel my love for history growing even more. The challenging work allowed me to immerse myself more in the content. Mr. Holub’s passion for the subject rubbed off on me, and I found myself even watching documentaries on World War II in my free time. When freshman year ended, I was an entirely different student. Mr. Holub had spent the past year pushing me to think outside the box and encouraging me to work hard. I was fortunate enough to have Mr. Holub the following year for AP US History. This extra year with him as my teacher only fostered my love for history even more. When it came time to apply to college, I knew I wanted to do something that would incorporate my love for history. Political science was the perfect answer, as I found it to be a perfect blend of historical and current world affairs. Mr. Holub has provided me with skills that will last a lifetime. His heavy handed grading made me more confident in my writing and analytical skills. When I think back to how scared I was of him, I laugh. My biggest fear turned into my biggest inspiration, something I remind myself of constantly when I’m faced with the seemingly impossible.

“You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.” To me, this simple sentence sums up beautifully how diabetes has shaped me. Diabetes is a mountain I have spent the last six and a half years climbing. There have been days when I’ve reached its peak, briefly forgetting about counting carbs, insulin ratios, and correction doses. And there are days when I’ve come tumbling down this mountain, lying at its base, the top of it unattainable, entirely out of reach. It’s easy to get caught up in the stark contrast between good and bad days, but I’ve come to realize that it's the days in between that matter, not just my highs or lows. Diabetes has taught me patience. Any diabetic knows that insulin doesn’t start working instantly. We’re taught to dose twenty minutes before eating, allowing the insulin to take effect before enjoying delicious food. When I was first diagnosed, this was the part of diabetes that bothered me the most. An impatient eleven-year-old, I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to eat when my friends were eating, and the silly twenty-minute rule was just another reminder of how I was different. It wasn’t until I started consistently pre-bolusing that I appreciated the full benefits of patience. I was no longer hit with massive blood sugar spikes that left me with pounding headaches. As the months go by and I find myself further into my senior year, I see my patience paying off in other areas of my life. With time, my biggest dreams have come true. My acceptance letter into Villanova University is physical proof of that. Diabetes has taught me grace. There are days when diabetes management is so far out of your control. You could perfectly count your carbs and give the exact amount of insulin needed, and your blood sugar could still misbehave. As a chronic perfectionist, diabetes has, albeit slightly forced, shown me the beauty of giving myself grace. Just like my blood sugar isn’t expected to be perfect, I’m allowed to make mistakes. I’m allowed to take time to watch a show, read a book, or just lie in bed. Through my journey as a diabetic, I’ve adjusted my mindset to be more open and forgiving on the seemingly bad days. Most importantly, diabetes has taught me bravery. As a diabetic, you are different. This was a difficult pill for me to swallow, especially during the first few years following my diagnosis. As a middle school girl, all I wanted was to blend in. As the years have progressed, however, I have embraced this difference. I no longer hide my Dexcom or my Omnipod. I teach my friends about Type One, fighting against the thousands of incorrect stereotypes. I take pride in my ability to not let diabetes slow me down during my long dance rehearsals or physically demanding cheer practices. I’ve learned how to advocate for myself, reminding teachers of the accommodations I’m granted to make climbing this mountain easier. Diabetes has given me a new level of confidence, one that allows me to make difficult decisions regarding my diabetes management, think quickly in emergency situations, and feel sure of who I am as a person. My hope for the future is that I continue learning valuable lessons through my diabetes, and serve as an example for others on how to climb the mountains we face. Diabetes may not be a mountain that can be moved altogether, but it is one that we can move with.