Though some people believe homeschoolers don't have social skills, that's not quite true. I was homeschooled through the end of middle school, and I can tell you, many of us have great social skills. I, however, am the exception. On the first day of freshman year, I showed up to public school for the first time. Lugging a backpack that wouldn't fit in my locker, a pack strapped to my waist to hold my EpiPens, and the weight of my anxiety at this unfamiliar situation, I knew a total of one person in the school. One person who, coincidentally, was not in any of my classes. I found a few sophomores who adopted me as their pet freshman - or, technically, they found me, wandering the halls at lunch because I had nobody to sit with. Even with a pretty stable friend group, I felt a little lost. Bullying is an issue at Chequamegon, and with my 1900s-psychiatry obsession and inability to stay quiet, I made a wonderful target. It was subtle enough I could never prove I wasn't just overreacting, so instead of getting help, I withdrew from my own life. I stopped answering questions in class, ignoring my annoyance at the silence left when nobody knew an obvious answer. I sat in the back even though my 504 plan says I need to be in the front, just because I didn't want people looking at the back of my head. I even got too nervous to walk across a room, because what if I somehow did it wrong? I've never gotten an official diagnosis. My therapist had me take an unofficial screening, and it was obvious. I didn't want to get diagnosed because that therapist left me with no trust in the mental health field, and it would be far from affordable to get diagnoses for all the conditions she said I have. Therapy didn't help me, so I've learned to deal with this on my own. My need to take every possible opportunity constantly battles my social anxiety, and sometimes it wins. As a member of FBLA, Forensics, Quiz Bowl, the Leo Club, 4-H, Choir, Student Council and more, I've been forced to do the things that scare me. They don't scare me any less yet. I keep going anyway. College will be as much of a fresh start as a multi disabled Wisconsinite can get. I know a new scene won't magically cure my social anxiety, but without the cliques and petty drama of a high school where everyone's either your cousin or your ex, I'll have more room to push myself and find my voice. I want to be a lawyer someday, following in the footsteps of some of my heroes. In the words of Maggie Kuhn, "Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes." Those words were not made for me, but their message is one I try to live by. My anxiety will not stop me from creating change.

My first day of ninth grade was also my first day of public school ever. I only had one friend in the school, and I knew that most of the people who knew me didn't exactly love me. I was always the odd one out: shy, homeschooled, a grade ahead, that kid who came into their school just to beat them all in the spelling bee. As I stepped in the door and the smell of school breakfast hit me for the first time ever, I realized being a public schooler was going to be harder than I'd expected. I could handle the academics; I knew that. But I had to socialize with kids a year older than me in a town I'd lived in my whole life, where everyone knew me and I knew nobody. It was a rocky start to the year. I made friends, but my initial participation in class discussions soon halted as I heard the things people said about me. I did my best to ignore the rumors, but I got quiet. My inability to speak to teachers frustrated me. The people I adored the most suddenly became people I feared. What if they tried to speak to me and I couldn't get a reply to come out? When I did manage to speak, it was usually in a whisper, barely audible above the chaotic background of classroom noise. I felt that I couldn't tell anybody how I was feeling -- after all, I couldn't tell anybody anything. Toward the end of freshman year, I became very depressed. I passed my classes with all A's, but I did very little besides going to school and sleeping. I was very grateful for my friends as I was struggling with social anxiety. My new best friend got me out of my shell, even making me try out for the school play. By April, I was working with them at McDonald's, where I learned how to speak without preparation -- when you work in fast food, you need to learn how to go off the script. I'm still working on getting over my fear of misspeaking and the embarrassment that comes with it, but I've come a long way. I still freeze up when I'm talking to my teachers, but I'm finally starting to understand: nobody's perfect. I have started a podcast, which is completely unscripted. It's a natural way for me to practice speaking without any rules, as well as getting my thoughts out into the world, even if nobody listens. It can also be a comfort to know that if something goes wrong, I can delete it and try again. My point is, my social anxiety will never go away. I don't think I want it to. It isn't my favourite part of me, but it's still a part of me that affects the way I see the world and lets me empathize with others' experiences. Yes, I am still anxious, but... I'm not scared anymore.

If I could have everyone in the world read one book, that book would be The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. I tried thinking of a book with a powerful message to write about here, one that might make someone understand, cry, or at least change their opinion on something that matters, but really, there are a million books that were written to do that. I love those books, but I don't think the world needs to read another book about all the things that aren't right. We all know about those already, and while it's great to learn more and get a better understanding of them, that's not always what we need. Sometimes I need to read a book so I can slow my brain down a little bit and focus on the things that are most important in life, like depressed robots, annoyingly cheerful computers, and a confused man named Arthur Dent. I also want the world to read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy because I reference it in most of my jokes, and very few people understand what I'm saying or why the number 42 has so much significance. I doubt everybody who read it would love it the way I do, but at least they'd have a higher chance of understanding the references that I can't stop making because it's such an amazing book. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has always been my favourite book, and I think everybody should at least get the chance to appreciate it.

My favorite song from 1989 is Welcome to New York. That was my favorite Taylor Swift song when I was seven years old. My best friend and I used to dance to it as she played the CD on her Littlest Pet Shop CD player. We never remembered all the words, but we'd try to sing along anyway. When we turned 12, we had a plan to go to New York City together. We wanted to go to an actual American Girl Doll place, and her mom gave us both striped notebooks to write down all our plans and ideas in. I still have mine, but now I use it to write notes for history class. I don't know if she has hers anymore. I doubt it. For months, every time I went to her house we would sit up in her room or down at her kitchen table with Welcome to New York on repeat as she brainstormed and I researched all the things we could do while we were there. It was just something to do for a while, like when we tried to build a robot out of salt because I read somewhere that salt conducted electricity. Eventually, though, we were almost 12 years old. Our parents were going along with our plans, to some extent. They weren't convinced on the American Girl Doll idea. Still. This was the most exciting thing in the world. We had a plan. We were finally going to get on a plane, which I hadn't done before, and go to New York City! Maybe it was never going to happen anyway, but we'll never know. As soon as we started getting excited and realizing that this could happen, this could be real... the pandemic hit. The coronavirus not only shut down almost all flights and ways to get anywhere from our tiny hometown, but it also shut down New York City as much as anything can shut down a city. Our trip wasn't going to happen. Today, neither of us have been to New York City. I still wonder if someday we'll be able to take that trip we dreamed of, but I doubt it. I still love Welcome to New York, though. It reminds me of all the things I used to think I could do, and it brings me back to the days before the pandemic when everything seemed easier. I might not be able to get that back, but Welcome to New York is a song about possibilities and starting your new journey in a new place. It makes me think that maybe I can still do the things six-year-old me dreamed of.