Gooning—a form of legal kidnapping in which parents hire trained staff to seize minors who are considered “troubled” and transport them against their will. 1/30/23—The first thing the goons said to me was, “Don't get aggressive,” as I tried to follow my mom and dad out of my room. They stood firm in front of the doorway. The second thing they said to me was, “The power in the house is cut off, and your parents are driving away with your phone.” I knew two things at that moment: 1) this time I messed up really badly, and 2) I was not going to be back for a long, long time. What I didn’t know was that when I did come back, I would never be the same. I slept the entire drive because the feeling of leaving the only life I’d ever known was too painful to bear. If you’re wondering what life was like before this moment, I’ll tell you. I was avoidant, I relied on substances and self-harm to avoid my feelings. I partied to escape my home life, which consisted of screaming matches, usually about my declining grades, concerning attendance, missing money, or my general disrespect. I thought I wasn’t worthy of love. I gave energy to people who treated me like garbage, and I was okay with it. I ignored people who wanted to help me because I didn’t trust that they had pure intentions, and I simply didn’t want to get better. I talked about dying in front of my friends enough that they said something to my parents. One day, when my mom and I were in one of our daily arguments, I decided to walk out and leave. I walked away from my house crying until a police officer asked me if I was Danny. I have never wanted to be Danny less. The only other thing I remember her saying was, “You are going to the hospital. You can come with us willingly or unwillingly.” I did a lot of irresponsible things, but running from cops was not one of them, so I went. Being in a mental hospital is a whole essay in itself, but to sum it up, I was there for one week, and it was much more damaging than helpful. My parents wanted to send me straight to a long-term residential treatment program, but I talked them down, and they decided on an outpatient hospitalization program. Though my parents made it clear that if they didn’t see a significant change, they would not hesitate to send me where they had originally planned. After three more months of declining behavior, my parents went through with the residential route, giving me the pleasure of meeting the goons I mentioned at the beginning. Being in a mental health program, you meet many therapists, psychiatrists, and students studying psychology. My therapist and mentors saw me through the scariest and darkest times of my life—from the day I was gooned, through my first year sober, and finally my homecoming celebration. I met so many kids who have been through similar and also different things, and it inspires me to help others who are struggling, using the knowledge I’ve gained from my own pain. During my stay at Solstice, we took trips to Warren Wilson for various activities, and I immediately felt that I was where I was meant to be. The environment, the people, and the family-like feeling radiated just being on the campus. I was sure that I wanted to continue my academic and personal journey at Warren Wilson, studying psychology. Having the opportunity to attend Warren Wilson will allow me to use my wisdom and past experiences to make the world a better place, by helping one person at a time.

Throughout my life, I have become increasingly aware of the importance of mental health and the impact it has on individuals. My own experiences have shaped my understanding of emotional struggles, and I’ve made it a priority to help others facing similar challenges. I often lend an ear to friends who need someone to talk to, offering them a safe space to express their feelings without judgment. By sharing my own story of overcoming difficulties, I create an environment where they feel understood and less alone. One way I’ve supported others is by organizing informal support groups among my peers. We gather to discuss our mental health openly, share coping strategies, and offer encouragement. This initiative has fostered a sense of community and belonging, allowing participants to realize they are not isolated in their experiences. I also volunteer at local mental health events, where I engage with individuals who may be struggling, providing them with resources and information about available support services. As I pursue my studies in psychology, I aim to deepen my understanding of mental health issues and effective intervention strategies. I plan to focus on therapeutic techniques that can be applied in real-world settings, such as cognitive-behavioral therapy and mindfulness practices. By gaining knowledge in these areas, I will be better equipped to provide emotional support to those in need. In the future, I envision using my education to work in schools or community centers, where I can implement programs that promote mental wellness and resilience among young people. I want to create workshops that teach coping skills, stress management, and emotional regulation, empowering individuals to take charge of their mental health. My goal is to be a source of support and guidance, helping others navigate their emotional challenges while fostering a culture of openness and acceptance around mental health. In summary, my commitment to helping others with their mental health stems from my personal journey and experiences. Through my studies, I will gain the tools necessary to provide effective emotional support and create positive change in my community.

Gooning—a form of legal kidnapping in which parents hire trained staff to seize minors who are considered “troubled” and transport them against their will. 1/30/23—The first thing the goons said to me was, “Don't get aggressive,” as I tried to follow my mom and dad out of my room. They stood firm in front of the doorway. The second thing they said to me was, “The power in the house is cut off, and your parents are driving away with your phone.” I knew two things at that moment: 1) this time I messed up really badly, and 2) I was not going to be back for a long, long time. What I didn’t know was that when I did come back, I would never be the same. I slept the entire drive because the feeling of leaving the only life I’d ever known was too painful to bear. If you’re wondering what life was like before this moment, I’ll tell you. I was avoidant, I relied on substances and self-harm to avoid my feelings. I partied to escape my home life, which consisted of screaming matches, usually about my declining grades, concerning attendance, missing money, or my general disrespect. I thought I wasn’t worthy of love. I gave energy to people who treated me like garbage, and I was okay with it. I ignored people who wanted to help me because I didn’t trust that they had pure intentions, and I simply didn’t want to get better. I talked about dying in front of my friends enough that they said something to my parents. One day, when my mom and I were in one of our daily arguments, I decided to walk out and leave. I walked away from my house crying until a police officer asked me if I was Danny. I have never wanted to be Danny less. The only other thing I remember her saying was, “You are going to the hospital. You can come with us willingly or unwillingly.” I did a lot of irresponsible things, but running from cops was not one of them, so I went. Being in a mental hospital is a whole essay in itself, but to sum it up, I was there for one week, and it was much more damaging than helpful. My parents wanted to send me straight to a long-term residential treatment program, but I talked them down, and they decided on an outpatient hospitalization program. Though my parents made it clear that if they didn’t see a significant change, they would not hesitate to send me where they had originally planned. After three more months of declining behavior, my parents went through with the residential route, giving me the pleasure of meeting the goons I mentioned at the beginning. Being in a mental health program, you meet many therapists, psychiatrists, and students studying psychology. My therapist and mentors saw me through the scariest and darkest times of my life—from the day I was gooned, through my first year sober, and finally my homecoming celebration. I met so many kids who have been through similar and also different things, and it inspires me to help others who are struggling, using the knowledge I’ve gained from my own pain. During my stay at Solstice, we took trips to Warren Wilson for various activities, and I immediately felt that I was where I was meant to be. pus. I was sure that I wanted to continue my academic and personal journey at Warren Wilson, studying psychology. Having the opportunity to attend Warren Wilson will allow me to use my wisdom and past experiences to make the world a better place, by helping one person at a time.The environment, the people, and the family-like feeling radiated just being on the campus. I was sure that I wanted to continue my academic and personal journey at Warren Wilson, studying psychology. Having the opportunity to attend Warren Wilson will allow me to use my wisdom and past experiences to make the world a better place, by helping one person at a time.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I intend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 1/1625 The Change I'll Be In The World As children, we are taught how to behave in various situations. At meals, we keep our elbows and knees below the table, don’t eat with our fingers, and avoid touching our hair. In school, we sit in our seats, raise our hands before speaking, and never talk back. At job interviews, we give a firm handshake, and eye contact is key. What we aren’t taught is how to adapt when we are torn from everything we’ve ever known. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were forcibly taken to a place we didn’t even know existed until we arrived. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But no matter the label, it boils down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home and brace yourself for a long list of rules. You must remain at least an arm’s length from staff. You must ask permission to talk to peers, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You can’t go to your room alone. A staff member must be present when you get food or water, available only at certain hours. Break any of these rules, and consequences range from writing apology letters to being forbidden from going outside, not being allowed to talk, or even not being able to close the door while using the restroom. We were even rated on our competency, with a score between 1 and 100 every week. As you can imagine, this was not a welcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. Naturally, we resisted the immense pressure and change we were suddenly thrust into, but the program didn’t accept that. After four months of adjusting to this strange and suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with the other kids. Since I had no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I rebuilt myself, and they became a key part of my healing. I started addressing the root of my pain and made progress through the program. Some of my friends still struggled deeply, facing neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. The program, touted as the last hope for these kids, failed us by not providing the support we needed to stand back up and rebuild ourselves. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for kids but ultimately fails, robbing hundreds of thousands of families due to its profit-driven motives. The industry lacks people who have experienced mental health struggles or been in similar programs. These programs lack empathy from staff; students feel trapped physically and emotionally, and they want to run—literally or mentally. When forced into a box, we feel the urge to resist. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. Everyone deserves to feel safe, cared for, and accepted in order to open up, let alone heal. The name “troubled teen industry” reflects how the field’s corporate workings see us as less than, sending a message of belittlement and lack of empathy. This is exactly what I want to emphasize when I create my own program. I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and personalized, trauma-informed care with properly trained staff who understand how past abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a supportive therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios to ensure personalized care, build trust, and provide a safe space for healing. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or provide support when needed. Most importantly, we will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and an aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives. They deserve what I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand why people behave the way they do, how decisions are shaped, and where harmful patterns stem from. By learning the roots of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process for individuals as they rebuild and grow in their new world.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I intend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.

Jack Terry’s story is one of the most powerful testaments to resilience I've heard in my short life. His ability to overcome unspeakable challenges and torture. His journey teaches the value of determination, and shows that no obstacle is insurmountable with the power of the human mind. Jack's life is incomparable to anything I could experience today, but this is my story. The first thing the goons said to me was, “Don't get aggressive,” as I tried to follow my parents out of my room. They stood firm in front of the doorway. The second thing they said was, “The power in the house is cut off, and your parents are driving away with your phone.” I knew two things at that moment: 1) I had messed up badly, and 2) I was not going to be back for a long time. What I didn’t know was that when I did come back, I would never be the same. I slept the entire drive because leaving the only life I’d ever known was too painful to bear. Before this moment, I was avoidant, relying on substances and self-harm to numb my feelings. I partied to escape a home filled with screaming matches over my grades, attendance, and disrespect. I thought I wasn’t worthy of love. I gave energy to people who treated me poorly and ignored those who wanted to help, unable to trust their intentions. I talked about dying in front of my friends enough that they told my parents. One day, during an argument with my mom, I decided to leave home. I walked until a police officer stopped me and said, “You are going to the hospital. You can come with us willingly or unwillingly.” I went, and after a week in the mental hospital—more damaging than helpful—my parents planned to send me to a long-term treatment program. I talked them down to outpatient hospitalization, but after three more months of declining behavior, they sent me to the residential program like they originally planned. In a mental health program, you meet many therapists, psychiatrists, and students studying psychology. My therapist and mentors saw me through the darkest times of my life—from being gooned, through my first year sober, and eventually to my homecoming celebration. I met so many kids who had been through similar struggles, and it inspired me to help others using the knowledge I gained from my own pain. During my stay at Solstice, we took trips to Warren Wilson for various activities, and I immediately felt I was where I was meant to be. The environment, the people, and the family-like feeling on campus radiated a sense of belonging. I knew then that I wanted to continue my academic and personal journey at Warren Wilson, studying psychology. Having the opportunity to attend Warren Wilson would allow me to use my wisdom and past experiences to make the world a better place, one person at a time. In order to accomplish my dreams I need a profound college education. Programs like Solstice East (Magnolia Mill school) cost unimaginable amounts of money. Over $500 every day. My single mom was not wealthy before I was sent away let alone after spending such large amounts of money that only get larger over time. I know I will make the world a better place, and I can make it even better with a degree in psychology.

Danielle Zeff 3/20/25 The Change I’ll Be As children, we’re taught how to behave in various situations: elbows off the table, raising our hands before speaking in school, and giving a firm handshake during job interviews. But what we’re not taught is how to adapt when everything we know is taken away. That’s exactly what I, along with hundreds of thousands of others, had to do when we were sent to a place we never knew existed. Some call it the troubled teen industry; others call it a treatment center. But despite the label, it comes down to this: Your mom is not coming to get you. Say goodbye to holidays at home, and prepare for a long list of rules. In this environment, we were required to maintain strict boundaries. You had to remain at least an arm’s length from staff, ask permission to talk, use the restroom, or even move from one chair to another. You couldn’t go to your room alone, and a staff member had to be present when you got food or water, available only at certain hours. Breaking any rules could lead to consequences such as writing apology letters, being forbidden from going outside, or even being denied the ability to close the door when using the restroom. We were also rated on our competency, receiving a score from 1 to 100 every week. Naturally, this was an unwelcoming environment, especially for kids brought there against their will. We resisted the intense pressure and sudden change, but the program did not tolerate that. After months of adjusting to this suffocating reality, I began to form bonds with fellow residents. With no family or friends from home, these new friends became everything to me. They supported me as I began to address the root of my pain and make progress through the program. Some of my friends, however, faced neglect, physical restraint, and abandonment. Despite being touted as the last hope for troubled teens, the program failed to provide the support needed for kids to heal. I want to be the change in this industry, which falsely claims to ensure safety for children while profiting from families’ struggles. The troubled teen industry lacks staff with lived experience in mental health or familiarity with similar programs. It’s run by people who often lack empathy, leading students feeling trapped physically and emotionally. I experienced this firsthand and witnessed it for 19 months. When forced into such an environment, there’s an overwhelming urge to resist. Everyone deserves to feel safe and accepted to open up, let alone heal. The term "troubled teen industry" reflects the corporate nature of the field, seeing kids as inferior and fueling a lack of empathy. This is what I indend to change. In my own program, I will focus on empathy, empowerment, and trauma-informed care, with staff who understand how abuse or instability can affect behavior. I will create a therapeutic environment with small staff-to-student ratios, ensuring personalized care, trust, and safety. A licensed therapist will always be available to lead groups or offer individual support. Lastly, I will focus on natural consequences, respectful discipline, positive reinforcement, and a sustainable aftercare plan. I know I can be the change in this industry. Everyone deserves proper care during the most vulnerable times in their lives—care that I never received. At Warren Wilson, I will study psychology to better understand human behavior, decision-making, and the roots of harmful patterns. By learning the causes of pain, I hope to be part of the healing process as individuals rebuild and grow in their new world.