Nursing is such a versatile word. It evokes feelings of comfort, responsiveness, a kind face, and the annoying person who barges into your room at 2 a.m. to check your vitals. While all of those impressions are what the patient sees, they also inspired me to dig deeper and discover what it truly means to be a nurse. What interests me most about becoming a nurse is the idea that one person can have a profound impact on the lives of many around them. One 12-hour shift can have a profound impact on the RNs in the med-surg unit, as they hand out ice chips to labor and delivery nurses cradling new life in their arms. Those moments, both big and small, are what drew me to study nursing and continue to fuel my drive to complete my education. My ultimate goal is to become a pediatric psychiatric nurse, which, of course, requires more schooling than a traditional bachelor’s degree. So, my short-term goal is to become a general pediatric nurse in a hospital setting. The path to that goal has helped me realize how much it would mean to support every child who walks through the hospital doors. I’ve worked in childcare for over four years, including at the YMCA, as a special needs paraprofessional, a summer camp counselor, and most recently as a manager at a school district childcare program. It was through those final two roles that I discovered how much I love working with children in a medical setting. At summer camp, I served on the medical team, administering medication, assisting with asthma inhalers, and applying endless Band-Aids. As a manager at the childcare program, I was responsible for medication distribution and supporting a newly diagnosed diabetic girl. Seeing the light in her eyes as she began to understand how her body uses insulin and learned to count the carbs in her Sunchips was truly one of the most rewarding moments of my life, and a key motivator in pursuing my goal. While my personal medical experiences have been fairly uneventful, my working exposure to a hospital setting has been through housekeeping at the hospital where I am doing my clinicals. It’s not the most glamorous job, but it has shown me how every role in a hospital is vital. Without maintenance, the trash chutes and compactors wouldn’t function, housekeepers couldn’t properly remove waste, and hallways and rooms would become cluttered, taking up the time of PCAs, CNAs, and RNs. I’ve come to genuinely enjoy working in the hospital, even if it means scrubbing toilets, because I know my work contributes to helping someone, like the man recovering from back surgery, get better. To me, nursing is so much more than a job. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a mission to make those around me feel happy, safe, and secure. It’s what drives me to finish school and to return later for more education after gaining experience. Nursing is the career I can’t wait to begin, and one I never want to leave, so long as there’s one more person I can help smile again after becoming pain-free.

Nursing is such a versatile word. It evokes feelings of comfort, responsiveness, a kind face, and the annoying person who barges into your room at 2 a.m. to check your vitals. While all of those impressions are what the patient sees, they also inspired me to dig deeper and discover what it truly means to be a nurse. What interests me most about becoming a nurse is how one person can impact so many lives around them. One 12-hour shift can have a dramatic effect from the RNs in the med-surg unit, handing out ice chips to the labor and delivery nurses cradling new life in their arms, the impact is profound. Those moments, both big and small, are what drew me to study nursing and continue to fuel my drive to complete my education. My ultimate goal is to become a pediatric psychiatric nurse, which, of course, requires more schooling than a traditional bachelor’s degree. So, my short-term goal is to become a general pediatric nurse in a hospital setting. The path to that goal has helped me realize how much it would mean to support every child who walks through the hospital doors. I’ve worked in childcare for over four years, including at the YMCA, as a special needs paraprofessional, a summer camp counselor, and most recently as a manager at a school district childcare program. It was through those final two roles that I discovered how much I love working with children in a medical setting. At summer camp, I served on the medical team, administering medication, assisting with asthma inhalers, and applying endless Band-Aids. As a manager at the childcare program, I was responsible for medication distribution and supporting a newly diagnosed diabetic girl. Seeing the light in her eyes as she began to understand how her body uses insulin and learned to count the carbs in her Sunchips was truly one of the most rewarding moments of my life, and a key motivator in pursuing my goal. While my personal medical experiences have been fairly uneventful (thank goodness), my working exposure to a hospital setting has been through housekeeping at the hospital where I’ll be doing my clinicals. It’s not the most glamorous job, but it has shown me how every role in a hospital is vital. Without maintenance, the trash chutes and compactors wouldn’t function; housekeepers couldn’t properly remove waste; hallways and rooms would become cluttered, taking up the time of PCAs, CNAs, and RNs. I’ve come to genuinely enjoy working in the hospital, even if it means scrubbing toilets, because I know my work contributes to helping someone, like the man recovering from back surgery, get better. To me, nursing is so much more than a job. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a mission to make those around me feel happy, safe, and secure. It’s what drives me to finish school and to return later for more education after gaining experience. Nursing is the career I can’t wait to begin, and one I never want to leave, so long as there’s one more person I can help smile again after becoming pain-free.

Watching the nurses work around my mom, whose blood pressure had fallen to 62/46, I could see they knew what they were doing. One nurse became two, then three, then finally four. They were on all the equipment, hanging shiny bags that looked like they had food dye in them, and plugging more big machines into the wall. My mom's eyelids fluttered open and shut as one of the nurses shouted out a color—purple, maybe? I wish it were pink—that’s my favorite color. A man whisked into the room, and I scrunched further into my corner. So many adults, but not Dad. Where was he? Mom didn’t look good and always felt better when Dad was around. I glanced at her again. Her hand was tightening on the blue blanket, and I went to reach for it, but a bigger hand grabbed me and yanked me out of the room. My dad scooped me into his arms and sprinted down the hall. Dad never ran, so something must have gone wrong. Was I in trouble? He dropped me into a beanbag chair in the play area down the hall. “Stay there. Don’t move,” he half-yelled, pointing at me. I shrank back into the chair, convinced I’d done something bad, something that had hurt Mom. I wanted to ask, but my child’s voice was no match for the thundering sound of a big machine rolling down the hall toward her room. Pursuing nursing has never seemed like just a goal, with a checklist and a plan. Instead, it feels fitting, like it was meant to be. I want to help people at their lowest points, whether at the bedside, behind a desk, or traveling to meet them where they are. It’s not just about physical strength but about building the mental and emotional resilience to rise after the hardest moments and pass that strength on to the next patient. Anatomy, pharmaceuticals, and endless studying are important, but they don’t compare to the patience, kindness, and compassion it takes to become a nurse. I want to grow into someone with deeper empathy, someone who can understand struggles, find strengths, and help others rise again. I want to get my hands dirty if it means someone can leave the hospital or clinic with a smile and feel better physically, emotionally, and mentally. Nursing will make that dream a reality. I sat in the beanbag for hours, crying and chewing my nails, waiting for Dad. Finally, after it was dark outside, he came back. He knelt and hugged me, quietly apologizing for yelling. Then he scooped me up and carried me back to Mom’s room. There were more machines, more shiny bags, and a beeping noise. But Mom was awake. I climbed off Dad and reached for her hand. She looked so tired, with dark circles under her eyes, but she smiled weakly and said a sentence that shaped me for the next twelve years: “Don’t worry, honey. The nurses are superheroes and can save anyone.”

Watching the nurses work around my mom, whose blood pressure had fallen to 62/46, I could see they knew what they were doing. One nurse became two, then three, then finally four. They were on all the equipment, hanging shiny bags that looked like they had food dye in them, and plugging more big machines into the wall. My mom's eyelids fluttered open and shut as one of the nurses shouted out a color, purple maybe? I wish it were pink that’s my favorite color! A man whisked into the room, and I scrunched further into my corner. So many adults, but not Dad. Where was he? Mom didn’t look good, and she always felt better when Dad was around. I glanced at her again. Her hand was tightening on the blue blanket, and I went to reach for it, but a bigger hand grabbed me and yanked me out of the room. My dad scooped me into his arms and sprinted down the hall. Dad never ran, so something must have gone wrong. Was I in trouble? He dropped me into a beanbag chair in the play area down the hall. “Stay there. Don’t move,” he half-yelled, pointing at me. I shrank back into the chair, convinced I’d done something bad, something that had hurt Mom. I wanted to ask, but my child’s voice was no match for the thundering sound of a big machine rolling down the hall toward her room. Pursuing nursing has never seemed like just a goal, with a checklist and a plan. Instead, it feels fitting, like it was meant to be. I want to help people at their lowest points, whether at the bedside, behind a desk, or traveling to meet them where they are. It’s not just about physical strength but about building the mental and emotional resilience to rise after the hardest moments and pass that strength on to the next patient. The anatomy, pharmaceuticals, and endless studying are important, but they don’t compare to the patience, kindness, and compassion it takes to become a nurse. I want to grow into someone with deeper empathy, someone who can understand struggles, find strengths, and help others rise again. I want to get my hands dirty if it means someone can leave the hospital or clinic with a smile, feeling better physically, emotionally, and mentally. Nursing will make that dream a reality. I sat in the beanbag for hours, crying and chewing my nails, waiting for Dad. Finally, after it was dark outside, he came back. He knelt and hugged me, quietly apologizing for yelling. Then he scooped me up and carried me back to Mom’s room. There were more machines, more shiny bags, and a beeping noise. But Mom was awake. I climbed off Dad and reached for her hand. She looked so tired, with dark circles under her eyes, but she smiled weakly and said a sentence that shaped me for the next twelve years: “Don’t worry, honey. The nurses are superheroes and can save anyone.”

Watching the nurses work around my mom, whose blood pressure had fallen to 62/46, I could see they knew what they were doing. One nurse became two, then three, then finally four. They were on all the equipment, hanging shiny bags that looked like they had food dye in them, and plugging more big machines into the wall. My mom's eyelids fluttered open and shut as one of the nurses shouted out a color—purple, maybe? I wish it were pink. That’s my favorite color! A man whisked into the room, and I scrunched further into my corner. So many adults, but not Dad. Where was he? Mom didn’t look good, and she always felt better when Dad was around. I glanced at her again. Her hand was tightening on the blue blanket, and I went to reach for it, but a bigger hand grabbed me and yanked me out of the room. My dad scooped me into his arms and sprinted down the hall. Dad never ran, so something must have gone wrong. Was I in trouble? He dropped me into a beanbag chair in the play area down the hall. “Stay there. Don’t move,” he half-yelled, pointing at me. I shrank back into the chair, convinced I’d done something bad, something that had hurt Mom. I wanted to ask, but my child’s voice was no match for the thundering sound of a big machine rolling down the hall toward her room. Pursuing nursing has never seemed like just a goal, with a checklist and a plan. Instead, it feels fitting, like it was meant to be. I want to help people at their lowest points, whether at the bedside, behind a desk, or traveling to meet them where they are. It’s not just about physical strength but about building the mental and emotional resilience to rise after the hardest moments and pass that strength on to the next patient. The anatomy, pharmaceuticals, and endless studying are important, but they don’t compare to the patience, kindness, and compassion it takes to become a nurse. I want to grow into someone with deeper empathy, someone who can understand struggles, find strengths, and help others rise again. I want to get my hands dirty if it means someone can leave the hospital or clinic with a smile, feeling better physically, emotionally, and mentally. Nursing will make that dream a reality. I sat in the beanbag for hours, crying and chewing my nails, waiting for Dad. Finally, after it was dark outside, he came back. He knelt and hugged me, quietly apologizing for yelling. Then he scooped me up and carried me back to Mom’s room. There were more machines, more shiny bags, and a beeping noise. But Mom was awake. I climbed off Dad and reached for her hand. She looked so tired, with dark circles under her eyes, but she smiled weakly and said a sentence that shaped me for the next twelve years. “Don’t worry, honey. The nurses are superheroes and can save anyone.”

The hazy glow from the old fluorescent lights stationed above the starting ramp changed the snow from pure white to a pale yellow, dousing the course with light and shadow where the bulbs didn't quite reach the trees. Navy, red, black, yellow, and every spectrum of the rainbow surrounded the ramp, the coats created a patchwork of teams cheering their teammates down the hill. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, this was my mantra as I slid into my start position. I position myself into my starting stance, leaning hard on my back legs as I prepared to launch. I heard my teammates screaming, but the only thing that mattered was the few words the person next to me whispered. "Go get them, Auntie Em." My coach patted me on my back and stepped back as the starting ramp stationed signaled to me that it was my moment. Breathe in and out, I looked down at my first gate and sprung out of the start, the starting beep and cheers fading behind, changing into the swish of my skis on the snow. Alpine ski racing has my dream sport for many years. It wasn't until high school I made it my reality. The ability to push yourself to get down the hill in the fastest time was both terrifying and astonishing to me. I told myself I wasn't good enough for the team as I signed up. I would be the slowest on the team, the worst one, and the most invaluable player. I thought I was walking into a sport where you had to be skiing your whole life to become good. I was thankfully proven wrong incredibly fast. I quickly became passionate about encouraging and cheering on my team, while watching their techniques on how they started, turned, and created their name in our conference. I threw myself into the deep end, becoming immersed in the ski racing culture, which was so wonderfully supportive of those starting. As I encouraged more, my technique became more refined and my times decreased, first by seconds, then by minutes. This improvement led to an All-Conference Title in my junior year. If you told my younger self at the beginning of the journey that she was ranked one of the best in the conference, she would have cried from the accomplishments knowing that all the pain, sweat, and tears were worth it. I strive from being able to help those first starting, who are scared to click into their skis for the first time, and the ability to drive themselves to become a better racer, both as an athlete and a teammate. I am passionate through and through about ski racing because it is the first sport I've done where I felt like I had a support system within the team. Being able to create that sense of community and belonging is what I strive to achieve. It's played a tremendous part in my life because I know I have people to lean on when I have reached levels of exhaustion, and in turn I want to help others have that support system. Times and standings come second to nil when someone on the team is struggling personally, creating a family bond that is unmatched. Teaching others to push through that burning struggle, and to see them come out stronger and more than ready to take on life's challenges with their skis pointed downhill and in racer position is what I long to see in every person who steps out onto the hill.

What started as a cough and a runny nose during a graduation party, turned into an emergency room visit as I could barely breathe. The nurses on duty immediately ensured I was stable, got me into a room, and could effectively diagnose me with an extreme case of tonsilitis in almost ten minutes, well before the doctor came in to give the official diagnosis. Those nurses were my guardian angels and have since sparked the journey I am on. Becoming a nurse has been a dream of mine since the emergency room visit, not just because they help treat me, but because they are such incredible front-line workers. I want the ability to help others the same way they helped me. While that time in May of 2023 changed my perspective on where I wanted my life to go, another event that happened later that year shaped me more dramatically. In the summer of 2023, my then-at-the-time boyfriend sexually assaulted me. It scarred me in more ways than one, but because of that, it solidified what I wanted my future to look like. I dove into research to find out more about ways I can help those who went through the same unjust action done against them. My end goal is to become a forensic nurse to help others who went through the same experience I went through to understand the power they have inside of them and to help them through the darkest moments of their lives. During that time I felt completely isolated, and I want those who come into the clinic, hospital, or emergency center to understand what happened to them doesn't make them the bad person, it helps them become stronger. I know I can make the largest impact by standing on those front lines at the hospitals to help. To become a forensic nurse, I will need a master's degree in nursing emphasizing forensics. My current plan is to attend Michigan Technology University to obtain my BSN. After that, I plan on spending a few years as an ER nurse to gain experience and have a few years under my belt. Once that stage of life is done, I plan on returning to school at Oakland University to gain my master's in forensic nursing. My grandfather was a massive influence on my life growing up. When, my sister, cousin, and I were in elementary school, every summer was spent on my grandparents' property in the Wisconsin countryside. When we would have our late-night bonfires (with of course some beer drinking and pants being accidentally lit on fire) with all of our family members during the family reunion, me and my cousin would sit fascinated by the old stories my grandfather would tell us about Korea. We would hear stories about how being stationed along one of the most closely guarded borders in the world following the aftermath of the war, as well as living, breathing, and seeing the effects of the Domino Theory playing out before his eyes was fascinating to the history nerd inside of me at fourteen years old. However looking back at these stories, I see bravery and the ability to overcome any obstacle that he was faced against. My grandpa had to leave his newlywed life to face something that would scare any person half to death, but he did it out of honor for our country. The effects on my life have taught me to value the time we have now and to be appreciative of what we have because of the bravery of people like him.

My name is Emily Kehoe, I am a senior at Blaine High School, as well as a PSEO student at the University of Minnesota Crookston. I love being at my high school because it enables me to have connections and friendships that will last a lifetime and learn leadership skills. My leadership skills from being an alpine ski captain as well as a yearbook editor enable me to go out into the community and try to make a difference in multiple different ways. I am a regular blood donor through the American Red Cross, and I have gone in every two months regularly whether or not I know if I am eligible to donate or not, to see if I can. I often participate in blood donations at my high school since I know that donating blood can be the reason someone lives or passes. Even if it doesn't directly impact my community, I still enjoy doing it immensely. I also volunteer regularly through service projects that the National Honor Society chapter at my school does. I have done food drives throughout the Halloween season that directly benefit the Anoka Hennepin food shelf, as well as the NACE food shelf in my local area. I have also done countless volunteer hours at local middle and elementary schools in my area to help the students on special days and events. One of my personal favorites was helping a classroom of 3rd graders create tie blankets for the children's hospital downtown, they were so excited to have a high schooler taking the day to help them and create fun memories. The tie blankets were enough to renew the hospital's supply since they were starting to run low by that time of the year. I also help out with reading programs at my old middle school by helping the kids pick out books that would interest them. I want to be able to give back to the Minnesota community by becoming a nurse and coming back to work in a Minnesota hospital to make the largest impact. My goal is to be able to help people through the worst moments of their lives with kindness and gentleness, just like nurses did for me when I was in the hospital. They treated me with smiles and a complete understanding of my situation and ensured that I was comfortable throughout the entire stay. It was after that hospital stay that I realized that I wanted to be able to help others, and I knew the greatest way I could do that was to become a nurse. I have been striving towards that goal by enrolling in nursing electives through PSEO and high school, as well as finishing my generals in order to fast track my way to nursing as fast as possible. I want to be able to give back to my community who did so much for me, through skiing, relationships, and the general love and respect that we have for each other. Afterall, were all Minnesota nice.

Music is a universal language, one that can drive emotions through the gut like a punch. The butterfly-like lightness that can come from a dainty orchestra to the booming stormtrooper march that drums and trumpets create a spectrum of emotions that affects every person, from the newborn to the 98-year-old. Music has shaped my worldview through the ability how music can unite and divide people's emotions, all through lyrics, crescendos, and decrescendos to name a few. A video I remember seeing recently shows a French man playing the piano in a French airport, he was playing a beautifully haunting piece, and all of a sudden an Asian woman came up and started to sing the opera part to the piece. It was a stunning reminder that music creates bridges through different cultures, how we may look so different on the outside, but on the inside, we are all similar. In my band, we have an extraordinary patchwork of different backgrounds, walks of life, ethnicity, and goals. Yet the one uniting factor we all have is our love for creating music together. We would have never crossed paths if it wasn't for the staff, the notes, and the drive to create something that invokes the emotion of the audience. I have always been a fan of musical theater, the songs, and the lyrics to me have always stood out against the sea of pop or rap music that is often associated with people my age. The songs that are sung, along with the pit orchestra create an entire story from nothing. Where songs bleed into the next to create a narrative that can remind the audience of a certain point that the entire production is trying to drive across. While the songs in musicals are the best example of how music weaves stories, each song does have its own story, whether it is about losing your true love, (almost every pop song today) to the shock of a rapidly changing world (Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire") has taught me that music is a tool to tell someone's past, present and future. Rather than writing down in a memoir, they create a melody to match the feeling they are trying to replicate. The music can invocate a greater response than a book through the instruments and the voice that is being used to express how the musician is trying to express.

The hazy glow from the old fluorescent lights stationed above the starting ramp changed the snow from pure white to a pale yellow, dousing the course with light and shadow where the bulbs didn't quite reach the trees. Navy, red, black, yellow, and every spectrum of the rainbow surrounded the ramp, these coats created a patchwork of teams cheering their teammates down the hill. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, this was my mantra as I slid into my start position. I position myself into my starting position, leaning hard on my back legs as I prepared to launch. I heard my teammates screaming, but the only thing that mattered was the few words the person next to me whispered. "Go get them, Auntie Em." My coach patted me on my back and stepped back as the starting instructor signaled to me that it was my moment. Breathe in and out, I looked down at my first gate and sprung out of the start, the starting beep and cheers fading behind, changing into the swish of my skis on the snow. Alpine ski racing has my dream sport for many years. It wasn't until high school I made it my reality. The ability to push yourself to get down the hill in the fastest time was both terrifying and astonishing to me. I told myself I wasn't good enough for the team as I signed up. I would be the slowest on the team, the worst one, and the most invaluable player. I thought I was walking into a sport where you had to be skiing your whole life to become good. I was thankfully proven wrong incredibly fast. I quickly became passionate about encouraging and cheering on my team, while watching their techniques on how they started, turned, and created their name in our conference. I threw myself into the deep end, becoming immersed in the ski racing culture, which was so wonderfully supportive of those starting. As I encouraged more, my technique became more refined and my times decreased, first by seconds, then by minutes. This improvement led to an All-Conference Title in my junior year. If you told my younger self at the beginning of the journey that she was ranked one of the best in the conference, she would have cried from the accomplishments knowing that all the pain, sweat, and tears were worth it. My passion stems from being able to help those first starting, who are scared to click into their skis for the first time, and the ability to drive myself to become a better racer, both as an athlete and a teammate. I am passionate through and through about ski racing because it is the first sport I've done where I felt like I had a support system within the team. It's played a tremendous part in my life because I know I have people to lean on when I have reached levels of exhaustion. Times and standings come second to nil when someone on the team is struggling personally, creating a family bond that is unmatched. It's taught me that even when you reach the wit's end, you want to collapse in exhaustion, or just give up if you can't understand the skill being taught, the ability to push through that pain, that feeling of wanting to scream in frustration is one of life's most important skill. Because once you push through that burning struggle, you will come out stronger and more than ready to take on life's challenges with your skis pointed downhill and in racer position.