Sophomore year, in a gym filled with hundreds of spectators, my coach pulled me aside and presented two options: varsity or JV. Fight for a chance at victory or end my season prematurely, grappling three mediocre wrestlers. Looking over his shoulder, I saw my potential varsity opponent, a rough, stocky senior ranked first in the league. Seeing him reminded me of our two previous encounters where he had overpowered me. Fearing a third loss, I chose to go JV, hoping to avoid the sting of another defeat. My matches wrapped up swiftly, giving me the rest of the day to spend enviously watching varsity matches: matches that had effort, stakes, and impact. Matches that mattered. I spent the next week processing my actions and emotions. Ultimately, I came to the realization that to achieve significant accomplishments and to avoid the disappointment I felt, I needed to embrace effort, not fear it. It is an obvious conclusion in hindsight, but it was a revelation to my younger self that helped shape my perspective dramatically. I began applying this principle to every part of my life. Athletically, physically, and academically, I sought out challenges I had previously feared and avoided. The newfound workload was rough to manage, especially at first, but I gradually became more adept at balancing it all. Each time I felt my perception of effort returning to baseline, I would amp up my intensity in the activities I pursued, pushing myself harder than I thought possible. Once summer came, I finally gained a moment of rest to look back on everything I had accomplished and all the effort I had put in. While I hadn't achieved anything extraordinary, I found deep satisfaction in my hard work. Wanting to continue this streak of meaningful pursuits my junior year, I committed to taking more challenging classes, actively seeking higher leadership roles in clubs, and giving it my all physically, in and out of practice. I gained satisfaction solely from my self-improvement, but unlike previous years, I began reaping the fruits of my labors: winning dozens of matches, podiuming at multiple reputable tournaments, earning MVP of the season, and leading the team as captain to one of the best seasons in the school's history. It seems so simple in hindsight, but understanding the fundamental truth of effort -that treading difficult paths in life feels rewarding and ultimately gets me further toward my goals- has changed my life. I have resolved to pursue every challenge and opportunity presented to me during college, in my future career, and in all aspects of life. Whether it's in academics, athletics, or personal growth, I am determined to face my fears head-on. I will begin doing so by wrestling at the collegiate level at UCLA this fall while pursuing a bachelor's in engineering.

Sophomore year, in a gym filled with hundreds of spectators, my coach pulled me aside and presented two options: varsity or JV. Fight for a chance at victory or end my season prematurely, grappling three mediocre wrestlers. Looking over his shoulder, I saw my potential varsity opponent, a rough, stocky senior ranked first in the league. Seeing him reminded me of our two previous encounters where he had overpowered me. Fearing a third loss, I chose to go JV, hoping to avoid the sting of another defeat. My matches wrapped up swiftly, giving me the rest of the day to spend enviously watching varsity matches: matches that had effort, stakes, and impact. Matches that mattered. I spent the next week processing my actions and emotions. Ultimately, I came to the realization that to achieve significant accomplishments and to avoid the disappointment I felt, I needed to embrace effort, not fear it. It is an obvious conclusion in hindsight, but it was a revelation to my younger self that helped shape my perspective dramatically. I began applying this principle to every part of my life. Athletically, physically, and academically, I sought out challenges I had previously feared and avoided. The newfound workload was rough to manage, especially at first, but I gradually became more adept at balancing it all. Each time I felt my perception of effort returning to baseline, I would amp up my intensity in the activities I pursued, pushing myself harder than I thought possible. Once summer came, I finally gained a moment of rest to look back on everything I had accomplished and all the effort I had put in. While I hadn't achieved anything extraordinary, I found deep satisfaction in my hard work. Wanting to continue this streak of meaningful pursuits my junior year, I committed to taking more challenging classes, actively seeking higher leadership roles in clubs, and giving it my all physically, in and out of practice. I gained satisfaction solely from my self-improvement, but unlike previous years, I began reaping the fruits of my labors: winning dozens of matches, podiuming at multiple reputable tournaments, earning MVP of the season, and leading the team to one of the best seasons in the school's history. It seems so simple in hindsight, but understanding the fundamental truth of effort -that treading difficult paths in life feels rewarding and ultimately gets me further toward my goals- has changed my life. I have resolved to pursue every challenge and opportunity presented to me during college, in my future career, and in all aspects of life. Whether it's in academics, athletics, or personal growth, I am determined to face my fears head-on. I will begin doing so by wrestling at the collegiate level at UCLA this fall while pursuing a bachelor's in engineering.

Sophomore year, in a gym filled with hundreds of spectators, my coach pulled me aside and presented two options: varsity or JV. Fight for a chance at victory or end my season prematurely, grappling three mediocre wrestlers. Looking over his shoulder, I saw my potential varsity opponent, a rough, stocky senior ranked first in the league. Seeing him reminded me of our two previous encounters where he had overpowered me. Fearing a third loss, I chose to go JV, hoping to avoid the sting of another defeat. My matches wrapped up swiftly, giving me the rest of the day to spend enviously watching varsity matches: matches that had effort, stakes, and impact. Matches that mattered. I spent the next week processing my actions and emotions. Ultimately, I came to the realization that to achieve significant accomplishments and to avoid the disappointment I felt, I needed to embrace effort, not fear it. It is an obvious conclusion in hindsight, but it was a revelation to my younger self that helped shape my perspective dramatically. I began applying this principle to every part of my life. Athletically, physically, and academically, I sought out challenges I had previously feared and avoided. The newfound workload was rough to manage, especially at first, but I gradually became more adept at balancing it all. Each time I felt my perception of effort returning to baseline, I would amp up my intensity in the activities I pursued, pushing myself harder than I thought possible. Once summer came, I finally gained a moment of rest to look back on everything I had accomplished and all the effort I had put in. While I hadn't achieved anything extraordinary, I found deep satisfaction in my hard work. Wanting to continue this streak of meaningful pursuits my junior year, I committed to taking more challenging classes, actively seeking higher leadership roles in clubs, and giving it my all physically, in and out of practice. I gained satisfaction solely from my self-improvement, but unlike previous years, I began reaping the fruits of my labors: winning dozens of matches, podiuming at multiple reputable tournaments, earning MVP of the season, and leading the team to one of the best seasons in the school's history. It seems so simple in hindsight, but understanding the fundamental truth of effort -that treading difficult paths in life feels rewarding and ultimately gets me further toward my goals- has changed my life. I have resolved to pursue every challenge and opportunity presented to me during college, in my future career, and in all aspects of life. Whether it's in academics, athletics, or personal growth, I am determined to face my fears head-on.

Books can impact people’s lives both for better or for worse depending on their message and a couple of other factors. For a book to impact everyone it needs to be enjoyable, easy to read, and simple to understand.  The enjoyability of a book comes mostly from personal preference but is mostly dependent on length, subject, or style. On average, people prefer a short book, focused on easy-to-understand topics, and is made up of clear, direct sentences. For a book to be understood all around the world it needs to be written at a low reading level and contain descriptive images. If a book contains these features it could be understood by the majority of readers, and be able to impact their lives. Lastly, a book’s range of impact is largely determined by the complexity of its message. Hiding a deeper meaning behind pages and paragraphs might make it more profound to readers who understand it, but the majority of readers will likely miss it, minimizing the book’s impact. So the ideal book must be clear and concise with its message to benefit most readers.  Now that the criteria needed for a book to impact the world the most have been established a short, elementary-level, picture book with a clear message- all that is left to be chosen is the topic of the book. I believe that this topic should be something simple and mutually beneficial: kindness. If everyone read a book about kindness, the world would become safer, better, and more peaceful. One without as much conflict, war, and discourse as there is currently.  When thinking about books that matched the criteria I stated above, one in particular came to mind: “What Does it Mean to be Kind” by Rana DiOrio. I remembered it as a book my little sister had brought home from school one day and read out loud to the family. I remember thinking about how simple the actions described in the book were, and how despite their simplicity, hardly anyone does them in real life. Actions such as “picking up trash... complimenting others,” and “celebrating differences in others.” Actions that everyone ought to do more often than they currently do. So, while it may seem like a silly answer, I believe that the book that would positively impact the world the most would be a simple kid's book: “What Does it Mean to be Kind.”