It was 4:45 AM and I had no clue where I was. "GET UP! IT'S TIME FOR MORNING PT!" My eyes adjusted to the suddenly bright room and the barracks came into focus. I was at military camp. Jumping off my bunk I made eye contact with the two girls, Kaela and Kaycee, I had just met at orientation. "Delaney said this wasn't going to happen!" Kaycee cried. Delaney, our counselor, was a boom operator in the National Guard; she had denied the rumor of morning PT. The voice continued to shout as we scrambled to throw on our shoes. In no time, we were marching down Camp Williams. By 10 AM on the first day at Freedom Academy, we had run a mile, done one hour of PT and spent hours at the Leadership Reaction Course. We carried our squadron over walls and caught each other at the bottom, solved strategy situations, and somewhere along the way, became a family. Ten of us, completely different, now united. We had one final challenge. A fifteen-foot pool of murky water, and only a pole across to aid in our task of making it to the other side. I was the first to go. Kaycee lifted me up and I straddled the pole, slowly moving to the other side. Suddenly, I hit a wet patch and flipped upside down. I was the first to go, and I knew I would be the first to fall. The consequences of slipping were only the bruising of my ego and the misery of wearing wet clothes the bus ride home but it seemed worth it. My biceps were screaming, and I could feel the skin start to tear from the pressure of the pole. "Bridgette, you got it! Don't let go!" Delaney yelled. Her military voice scared me into believing in myself more than the message itself did. Following her lead, my new family started their own cheers. I realized falling wouldn't just affect me. Everyone would be nervous for their turn; the bar would be wet from my splash and morale would be low. This was more than just a soggy drive back to the barracks. I thought of all the people in my life who encourage me. The teachers who help me understand the Pythagorean Theorem on their lunch breaks, the coaches who gave me a bag of balls to practice soccer or the friends who check up on me after a hard day. Failure is more than just myself and my ego. Giving up is failing all the people who have believed in me. I made it to the end, alone physically, everyone on the other side, but knowing that I would never truly be alone. As long as I surround myself with people as amazing as my squadron, my new family, or even my true family, friends, and teachers. The people who would never let me fall into the water even if they couldn't physically catch me. That first day taught me everything. I wanted to give up and drop into the water, but somehow, I managed to cross the pool, dry but bruised, muscles aching, biceps burning. I became a stronger version of myself, and the girl who would've quit was gone. Nothing had physically changed. My arms are still weak, I can't do a pullup, but the strength of those around me helps carry the weight. That’s what motivates me, what drives me to excel in school. It's why I want a successful career or why I'm even attending college. I want to prove them all right.

I’ve had the opportunity to gaze wide-eyed at the mural painted across the ceiling in the Utah State Capitol. I’ve trekked through the catacombs and wandered through the cherry blossom trees. I sat on the couch in the Lieutenant Governor's office and leaned against the marble columns supporting the rotunda. I’ve been immersed in the physical representation of our democracy. I’ve slept in the barracks at Camp Williams, and I’ve skipped through the playgrounds on Hill Air Force Base. I’ve watched my dad march in the Governor's Parade, and I’ve run into his arms as he returns home from military deployments. I’ve watched my grandfather struggle with his memory of Vietnam and avoid the conversation. I’ve played dress up in his old uniform, drowning in cameo and polyester. I’ve grown up with a truly intrinsic love and faith in my country and the understanding of faults turning to solutions. I could learn political science for the rest of my life and never get bored because knowledge is how I prepare myself to fight for the change I wish to see. I’ve read of my forefathers fighting against a system that did not work for them and building one that did. America is founded on the idea of progress, unity, and freedom. My dad and grandfather dedicated their lives to fighting for those ideas. Exploring political science and later attending law school will allow me to defend the legality of those American freedoms I have had the blessing of enjoying. We need leaders willing to advocate and to research. We need senators who listen to their constituents, who don't vote blindly on bills passing the House floor. More than anything, we need leaders who care. Leaders who see the promise our great country has when we are consistent with our founding beliefs. When I sit through AP U.S History learning about the foundation of our political system, I see hope and promise. When I travel across the U.S, I am reminded of those feelings again. Seeing the great green statue in New York Harbor engraved with "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free". With my right hand over my heart as the national anthem is sung before I take the field for a lacrosse game, I'm again reminded of this hope. Knowledge is power, but education is empathy. My pursuit of a degree is a combination of both. I see the mistakes we have made, but, again, I see hope. I see the hope that one day, this relentless pursuit of greatness, of success, of education will lead to our country becoming a better place.