For most of my life, I was used to being good at everything I tried. If I wasn't, I would quit. I had done the persuasive category of Speech in the past with relative success. I'm the co-chair of Youth in Government, won most matches on my golf team, and usually got the lead in theatre, which I did locally and professionally. I was never D1 or Broadway-bound, but I was perfectly comfortable with my above-average success. However, as my love for theatre diminished, and Youth in Government ended; I grew antsy toward the middle of my junior year. I wanted more of a challenge in Speech and a more dynamic team sport. So, I switched to extemporaneous speaking and quit golf for softball. And even though on the outside, I remained humble, internally, I secretly expected great success. In Extemporaneous speaking, you pull a current events question and have thirty minutes to write a seven-minute speech. It was tough. Although I was comfortable with public speaking and politics, my first attempts were marked by nervousness and stumbling over words. The judge's gaze felt intimidating, and every mistake seemed magnified. I never finaled, honor-finaled, or got an honorable mention. The whole junior year. Then, when it came to starting softball, I was struck with an even harsher reality check, joining a sport I hadn't played since elementary school. My lack of prowess on the field became evident during practices and games, and the frustration of not meeting my expectations began to set in. But as cheesy as it sounds, they were both so fun. I was amazed at how much more stimulating real challenge is. By stepping out of my comfort zone, I didn't have to do those long golf matches or the same boring Speech over and over. I was finally doing what I loved. My joy from my extracurriculars was no longer from the success I was garnering but from the activities themselves. I was an underdog; people rooted for me. And that was enough to reinspire the competitive part of my brain. Sure, I had fun, but I sucked. Instead of retreating, I decided to confront the adversity head-on. I played for my school's summer and fall teams, developed deeper connections with fellow players, and even went to Nebraska to practice with a D1 softball player. I worked relentlessly to bridge the gap between my initial struggles and the player I aspired to become. And you know what? It started paying off. I led my fall ball team in batting average. I was getting hits. I got a double; I was leadoff hitter. All those little achievements were infinitely more rewarding because I tried something new and worked hard to be good at it. As senior year began, so did speech competitions. The nervousness dissipated and was replaced by confidence and a newfound ability to articulate my thoughts effectively. I started getting better scores and an honorable mention. I even got fourth place at a recent meet. I was in a category no one else dared try, and I had a great attitude about failing, and I finally had something to show for it. Softball has yet to start, and if they put me on Varsity, I won't get much playing time. But I fundraised like crazy; I was called up to manage at sections last year, and everyone roots for me extra because I am new, positive, and a team player. The triumph over adversity in these endeavors shaped my final years and laid the foundation for a mindset that embraces challenges as avenues for growth.

For most of my life, I was used to being good at everything I tried. If I wasn't, I would quit. I had done the persuasive category of Speech in the past with relative success. I'm the co-chair of Youth in Government, won most matches on my golf team, and usually got the lead in theatre, which I did locally and professionally. I was never D1 or Broadway-bound, but I was perfectly comfortable with my above-average success. However, as my love for theatre diminished, and Youth in Government ended; I grew antsy toward the middle of my junior year. I wanted more of a challenge in Speech and a more dynamic team sport. So, I switched to extemporaneous speaking and quit golf for softball. And even though on the outside, I remained humble, internally, I secretly expected great success. In Extemporaneous speaking, you pull a current events question and have thirty minutes to write a seven-minute speech. It was tough. Although I was comfortable with public speaking and politics, my first attempts were marked by nervousness and stumbling over words. The judge's gaze felt intimidating, and every mistake seemed magnified. I never finaled, honor-finaled, or got an honorable mention. The whole junior year. Then, when it came to starting softball, I was struck with an even harsher reality check, joining a sport I hadn't played since elementary school. My lack of prowess on the field became evident during practices and games, and the frustration of not meeting my expectations began to set in. But as cheesy as it sounds, they were both so fun. I was amazed at how much more stimulating real challenge is. By stepping out of my comfort zone, I didn't have to do those long golf matches or the same boring Speech over and over. I was finally doing what I loved. My joy from my extracurriculars was no longer from the success I was garnering but from the activities themselves. I was an underdog; people rooted for me. And that was enough to reinspire the competitive part of my brain. Sure, I had fun, but I sucked. Instead of retreating, I decided to confront the adversity head-on. I played for my school's summer and fall teams, developed deeper connections with fellow players, and even went to Nebraska to practice with a D1 softball player. I worked relentlessly to bridge the gap between my initial struggles and the player I aspired to become. And you know what? It started paying off. I led my fall ball team in batting average. I was getting hits. I got a double; I was leadoff hitter. All those little achievements were infinitely more rewarding because I tried something new and worked hard to be good at it. As senior year began, so did speech competitions. The nervousness dissipated and was replaced by confidence and a newfound ability to articulate my thoughts effectively. I started getting better scores and an honorable mention. I even got fourth place at a recent meet. I was in a category no one else dared try, and I had a great attitude about failing, and I finally had something to show for it. Softball has yet to start, and if they put me on Varsity, I won't get much playing time. But I fundraised like crazy; I was called up to manage at sections last year, and everyone roots for me extra because I am new, positive, and a team player. The triumph over adversity in these endeavors shaped my final years and laid the foundation for a mindset that embraces challenges as avenues for growth.

High school is notoriously a whirlwind of emotions and self-discovery and is a pivotal chapter in one's life. Like many kids, I turned to music to cope with these rapid changes. It shaped my identity and provided an outlet for expression. Amid teenage angst, drama, and constantly changing relationship dynamics, Spotify playlists became the constant outlet that mirrored my emotions. From "Stand By Me," a collection of songs my friends and I made to feel like the classic 1950s journey, to "New Year, New Me," a playlist of songs describing how it feels not being friends with them anymore, each carefully curated song resonated with the complexities of my high school journey. Music became a way to encapsulate the essence of my adolescent experience. As my love for music deepened, I found myself drawn not just to listening but to creating. The realization that I could channel my emotions into something sparked a newfound passion. My dad bought me a Hello Kitty guitar, and I began to spend hours in my room, writing songs about anything from my dad's cancer to an imaginary bride leaving her fiance at the altar. During this time, I was working as a resident companion in the memory care unit of a nursing home. All my musical ventures and experiences with dementia and death culminated in an even bigger project: writing a musical. I wrote a script inspired by my job, with characters, conflicts, and an original score. I entered it into the Minnesota Fringe Festival, and it was accepted! The road to creating a musical was challenging. I found a whole cast and crew of friends my age to be a part of it. I wanted to give opportunities to other high schoolers. Overcoming self-doubt and navigating the complexities of storytelling presented hurdles that demanded resilience. However, each obstacle was a stepping stone, leading to a more profound understanding of the creative process and my capabilities. The musical was called She's Already Gone. The story goes like this: a young girl in 1940s Europe suddenly realizes everything around her is unfamiliar and believes it might be related to World War Two. In the end, it was a depiction of how dementia can make you think you are younger than you are, and the one friend she had was actually a resident companion (you know, like I was). The culmination of months of dedication and artistic exploration led to the eagerly anticipated moment—the unveiling of the musical. The only thing more remarkable than witnessing my creation come to life was hearing from the people who saw it. People would leave the show crying, and we got countless reviews from people we'd never even met- even an article written by "single white fringe geek". The sentiment was, "I'm not giving this a good review simply because of the youth of the company. I'm giving it a great review because it was a damn good show." That's a real review we got. It was amazing. We even sold out the last show. This was the most rewarding experience of my life, and I have music to thank for it. In retrospect, my high school years weren't just a period of academics and social mishaps but a time of self-discovery. Writing a musical became more than a creative endeavor; it was a way to share a perspective I care about in a way that I love. As the curtain is falling on my high school days, music serves as a perpetual reminder of the transformative journey through the ever-evolving soundtrack of life.

"Golf: Gentleman only, ladies forbidden" is a joke I've heard often. While clever, it's rooted in a real-life idea that golf is a man's sport. Luckily, in my life, golf has transcended traditional gender norms, welcoming women with open arms. As a female golfer, even though I've faced unique hurdles in a male-dominated activity, I've found immense joy in this sport, a passion that has provided recreation, my favorite summer job, and a way to bond with my dad. I've been playing golf my whole life, for as long as I can remember; my dad and I were on par three courses, driving ranges, in First Tee classes. My father built a mini model of Augusta holes 11, 12, and 13 in our backyard where you can putt and chip little foam balls. Golf's been a significant hobby for me and my dad to share, and I admire him for still encouraging me to do the sport he loves even though I was a girl. I love golf with its serene landscapes, strategic gameplay, and emphasis on precision. Especially as someone who has to deal with the harsh Minnesota winters, I relish when the snow melts. The sheer pleasure of spending time outdoors, surrounded by lush greens and under the vast sky, contributes to the unique tranquility of this sport. Golf is a game that demands discipline, focus, and perseverance. The sport has been pivotal in my growth. I learned about building character when I took First Tee classes in my youth. For the last three years, I've been fortunate enough to coach the little class I loved so much. I play games like "Poison," "Pool," and "Who can hit the guy driving the golf ball picker," and I give the children candy at the end of every lesson. I love instilling a love of golf and tenacity. Especially since this dedication was required to refine my own skills. The patience to endure challenging rounds and the ability to maintain composure in the face of setbacks have all contributed to my character development. Historically, golf has been associated with male players, which can lead to biased expectations and unequal opportunities. Overcoming these stereotypes, I've found empowerment in demonstrating that skill, passion, and dedication aren't confined by gender. In my coaching job, I always tell the girls' parents to keep them in golf since they'll have more opportunities, and they're starting so young. I love being a coach with two other women and seeing the ratio of young girls golfing grow and grow. One of my fellow coaches, Ingrid Gallo, is such an inspiration: she's a Former Big Ten Champion and previous Golf Digest's Top 15 Instructor in Minnesota; it's incredible to see a woman from an older generation be such a skilled golfer, better than most men. I believe that in high school, it should be more common for golf programs to be combined. Golf isn't a contact sport, and a method already exists to equalize gender differences (separate tees for women). This would improve the experience for many girls in golf, giving them access to more coaches and funding. My experience as a female golfer has been joy, personal growth, and triumph over challenges. My love for the sport, coupled with the determination to break through gender barriers, has fueled my commitment to golf. The narrative is shifting as women continue to make strides in the golfing community. Once considered a bastion of male exclusivity, golf is now witnessing the emergence of a new era where the greens are open to all, regardless of gender.

Mr. Nowlin was everyone's favorite teacher in my elementary school, Wilshire Park. He taught in the last classroom in the third-grade hallway, a tall man of unparalleled enthusiasm for education. Mr. Nowlin made learning fun for every lucky student in his class. He was not my homeroom teacher, but he taught me math and economics, and we had the same birthday. However, I remember finding it very odd when he started walking with a cane and missing many school days. I would later find out he had been diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, ALS. Mr. Nowlin's diagnosis sent ripples through our close-knit school community, and I remember not being too worried. He was young, tall, and happy. I always wondered why my parents seemed so worried. However, ALS, with its relentless, quick progression, began to rob Mr. Nowlin of his physical abilities. Still, his determination to continue teaching remained unwavering. Eventually, Mr. Nowlin was only able to come in on Fridays. He continued to impart valuable life lessons, not just in math, but life lessons. He had a saying, "Think Strong, Be Strong," which is now plastered around our school. It was a beautiful, simple mantra about the power of a growth mindset. And he was strong. I am amazed at how he was always able to look on the bright side. He would come into school, unable to speak, and would type words to us on his computer with his eyeballs, and he would still seem chipper. I read in a news story about him that he even did stand-up comedy in the late stages of ALS, which is inspiring. He was so sick he could not speak, and he still found a way to impart joy to others, just as he always had. Mr. Nowlin's eventual passing left a hole in our hearts, but his legacy endured in the countless lives he touched. The experience shaped my perspective on resilience, empathy, and the fragility of life. It instilled in me a drive to positively impact and live each day to the fullest. In retrospect, Mr. Nowlin's battle with ALS was a poignant lesson in my formative years that people do not live forever. You can do nothing wrong and be perfectly healthy and still die young, A lesson that would rear its ugly head again in my father. ALS is horrifying, and I hope I never have to see it again. I hope we can further our research so it may one day be cured. He taught me that you can still find joy even in your darkest hour.

I love golf. I always have. For as long as I can remember, my dad and I were on par three courses, driving ranges, putting greens. My father and his friend built a mini model of Augusta holes 11, 12, and 13 in our backyard where you can putt and chip little foam balls. The girl's golf program at my school allowed free and unlimited access to our local golf course. So, every day after school, you could find me playing at least nine holes, trying to etch down my score. Rain or shine, hot or cold, I was there. So, although our golf program could have been more robust, I was always proud to sport the best score at every match. Along with golf, I love school. Like, I really do. Something about the traditional high school experience is so enjoyable to me. When waiting for my tee time, I have often sat in the lobby finishing up homework, maintaining my above 3.9 GPA. I believe there is a correlation between playing golf and being proficient in school. Golf is undoubtedly a game of adapting to unforeseen obstacles. These values translate very well into academics. Staying calm under pressure and overcoming challenges are supremely undervalued life skills. My dad always tells me the importance of being calm and relaxed in your golf swing. Golf's connections and sportsmanlike behavior have bred many valuable relationships and friends in my life- for instance, my golf coach, Mike Sholl. Mike Sholl is a shining example of a model community member- hosting several nonprofit fundraisers in his neighborhood for various causes. I always attend fundraisers or volunteer even now that I am not on his golf team anymore. Whether it is handing out tickets at school events or painting faces for hours in his backyard carnival, I am ever appreciative of the charitable opportunities given to me by my old coach. Or, Coach Ken- a man who volunteered in First Tee with me. I was always so amazed that he spent his morning teaching kids about the sport he loved for free. We would have impassioned discussions about the Minnesota Twins and about whatever remarkable improvement a student in the class had made that day at the range. I've also gained valuable leadership skills I can make use of on or off the golf course. My main work is coaching youth golf with First Tee MN. Little Chippers is a summer class that I once was a part of. Now, I am fortunate to be a coach for that organization. I pride myself on being very good at holding the attention and being able to entertain these young kids- I use games like "poison" and "pool" and give out rewards and candies all with the primary intention of sparking the lifelong passion for golf that I have. The leadership and dedication I have acquired also serve me as I am a co-chair for my school's Youth in Government. I carry the etiquette and level-headedness I learned in golf there and wherever I go. So, as I look at law or business as potential careers, those paths are long and arduous. I work three jobs to ensure the least amount of debt possible and have begun dedicating a lot of my free time to building my future. However, in all the uncertainty, I know that golf will follow whichever way my life goes. The beauty of the sport is its longevity. I know that I will continue to hone my craft, forge meaningful connections, exhibit leadership, and have fun for many years.

When I was a little girl, my friends and I loved the Star Wars franchise. We would "play" Star Wars. Acting out different scenes from the movies or unique scenes of our own as different characters. I really love the original trilogy more than anything, watching and rewatching them on my old VHR when I was little. But one movie stands above all the rest: The Empire Strikes Back. Considering this was the only movie I watched when I was young, I am confident I could be content with only this movie for the rest of my life. A few significant reasons stick out to me: First, it would never get old because of all the foreshadowing. The most famous is Luke seeing himself in a vision under Darth Vader's mask. Or the part where Vader doesn't want the Emporer to kill Luke, presumably because he still has a shred of empathy and doesn't want his son to die. And who knows what else? Well, I would, since I would be watching it for the rest of my life. It's one of the few examples where the sequel is better than the original. "A New Hope" was kind of a campy science fiction film, possibly doomed to be more of a cult classic. But this sequel movie secured "Star Wars" as the time-honored franchise it is with intricate and exciting storylines, unexpected plot twists, and a darker tone that adds depth to the overall narrative. The exceptional character development allows the audience to connect with the heroes and villains more profoundly by introducing iconic characters like Yoda, Lando Calrissian, and Boba Fett. Moreover, the film showcases groundbreaking special effects for its time, which I find more enjoyable than the heartless CGI of today, particularly in the thrilling battle scenes and the visually stunning landscapes of the planets. The music is fantastic and iconic. John Williams' score further enhances the emotional impact, creating a memorable and immersive experience. I'm not the big Star Wars super fan I used to be. But when I sat down to really think about what movie had the story elements, foreshadowing, charm, and visuals to keep me entertained daily for the rest of my life, "The Empire Strikes Back" jumped to the front of my mind right away. I still remember watching that movie on the static-y VHR screen, which still brings me child-like joy to watch today.

I have been into golf since I was a kid, hitting the greens with my dad and taking classes with First Tee to improve my game. We had a driving net and a mini golf course in my backyard, and many weekends have been spent at the range or on a course. My dad has spent so much time recording me in slow motion and critiquing my swing that I eventually learned how to offer tips of my own. All these years later, I now teach the First Tee classes I used to take. I still love to tell him about the students, and on hot days, he drops off ice cream at the end of class. Golf is not just a sport for me; it is a shared experience with my dad that goes beyond the course. Another thing I can share with my dad is our love of watching sports. We spend hours discussing football, analyzing each other's fantasy teams, and attending Minnesota Twins games. I love professional sports, and my passion and history of coaching have me considering a career in sports management or media. I recently switched from golf to softball because I wanted something more athletic and team-based. Golf began to feel too individual. I noticed how I would root against my best friend in golf while I would cheer for my worst enemy in softball. I craved the fast-paced group dynamics of softball. Hitting the ball, running the bases, and celebrating wins with a team brought excitement and camaraderie that I did not get from golf. It has been a refreshing change that aligns better with my desire for a more active and team-oriented sport. Another hobby of mine that involves camaraderie is politics. I am the leader of my school's Youth in Government, and every year, we go to a conference where you write and debate bills. It is so rewarding to share ideas and try to create practical solutions for social issues. I recently have been considering a career in law or politics. Being a student-athlete has shown me how to balance two important but conflicting ideals. It is crucial to bring the character and care taught in golf. You need to be able to think on your feet and remain calm under pressure. However, you also must have the teamwork I learned in softball- most careers are not individual or a zero-sum game. So whether I work on a court or in a court (see what I did there), I will be collaborative and respectful.

Ever since I was little, my dad placed me in the Minneapolis First Tee program. So, between that, and the driving net and homemade mini golf course in our yard, I've been golfing my whole life. The First Tee program always meant so much to me; the little games they had us play to stay engaged, the core values they taught us throughout the session: social, physical, behavioral, mental, and academic health. This was instilled with practices ranging from as formal as "STAR: stop, think, anticipate, respond" to as simple as reminding us to shake each other's hands and say thank you for the match. So I learned respect and character. Now that I'm eighteen, I of course no longer participate in "Little Chippers". I coach it! For the last three years, I have been fortunate enough to get to continue the teachings of the little class I loved so much. I play games like "poison" "pool" and "who can hit the guy driving the golf ball picker" and I give the kids candy at the end of every lesson. Now, some of the older kids even go to the middle school connected to my high school and still call me "candy lady". With the help of coach Ingrid (who probably instills more of the technique), I consider it my job to make golf fun. So I learned to let loose and enjoy myself. The biggest lesson I've learned in my whole golf career, though, is the importance of fostering meaningful connections; whether its for a couple hour golf match, or for a lifetime. The bonds I've made with kids is really important, from kids on the autism spectrum who I slowly learn how to effectively reach, to siblings in the class who I have to learn how to keep from bickering. I remember one girl in particular went to the Chinese immersion school nearby and was so shy she didn't speak for the whole first day. By the end of the month, she had completely broken out of her shell and would even come to class early. Golf's connections and sportsmanlike behavior have bred many valuable relationships and friends in my life- like my high school golf coach, Mike Sholl. Mike Sholl is a shining example of a model community member- hosting several nonprofit fundraisers in his neighborhood for various causes. Fundraisers I always attend or volunteer even now that I am not on his golf team anymore. Whether it's handing out tickets at school events or painting faces for hours in his backyard carnival, I am ever appreciative of the charitable opportunities given to me by my old coach. Or Coach Ken- a man who volunteered in First Tee with me. I was always so amazed that he spent his morning teaching kids about the sport he loved for FREE. We would have impassioned discussions about the Minnesota Twins and about whatever amazing improvement a student in the class had made that day at the range. So, whether it's lifelong friends, kids you coach, or just a fellow golfer you share a match with, I am happy golf has showed me the value in shaking hands, tipping your cap, and appreciating those around you. There is always something different about golfers though. They are sportsmanlike, generous, and happy. So, whether it's on the course or not, I will go out into life cherishing my friends and colleagues.

Ever since I was little, my dad placed me in the Minneapolis First Tee program. So, between that, and the driving net and homemade mini golf course in our yard, I've been golfing my whole life. The First Tee program always meant so much to me; the little games they had us play to stay engaged, the core values they taught us throughout the session: social, physical, behavioral, mental, and academic health. This was instilled with practices ranging from as formal as "STAR: stop, think, anticipate, respond" to as simple as reminding us to shake each other's hands and say thank you for the match. Now that I'm eighteen, I of course no longer participate in "Little Chippers". I coach it! For the last three years, I have been fortunate enough to get to continue the teachings of the little class I loved so much. I play games like "poison" "pool" and "who can hit the guy driving the golf ball picker" and I give the kids candy at the end of every lesson. Now, some of the older kids even go to the middle school connected to my high school and still call me "candy lady". With the help of coach Ingrid (who probably instills more of the technique), I consider it my job to make golf fun. The connections I've made with kids is really important, from kids on the autism spectrum who I slowly learn how to effectively reach, to siblings in the class who I have to learn how to keep from bickering. I remember one girl in particular went to the Chinese immersion school nearby and was so shy she didn't speak for the whole first day. By the end of the month, she had completely broken out of her shell and would even come to class early. I especially like to highlight to the parents of young girls just how beneficial golf can be. It is a fabulous opportunity for scholarships since the demographic is so small and the kids are starting so young. My favorite tradition is ending every session with an increasingly more elaborate mini golf course, decked with homemade flags and ramps and traps. The real purpose of it all, though, is to build character. First Tee conducted a study that found that 85 percent of parents think that "character is a lost value that needs to be emphasized in today's society". They call it a "character gap". So yes, I want to instill a love of golf, and help girls get scholarships, and make sure kids have fun in the day camp their parents signed them up for. But above all of that, I want to see them grow. I still say 'hi' to all the kids in the middle school who I've taught, I get to tell them about "STAR" and shaking hands at the end of every match, and if I'm lucky, one of them will grow up and take my place.

Mr. Patrek was always my favorite teacher. He taught my Global Studies class freshman year and was teaching my AP US History class the following year. That winter however, although we were back at school after COVID, my school was about to take a month-long hiatus due to an outbreak. I was devastated. I had already learned about myself from the previous bought of distance learning that I did not fare well. I was depressed and unable to focus. On the very first day of that break my 2 friends and I went to the school to clear out our lockers and walked by Mr Patrek in his empty room. To make a long story short, we began going there every day to spend our "break" with him. He would teach Zoom classes while we did work and in the breaks, he helped us with our math and planted flowers with us in his room. Since quarantine, there have been many psychological observations about the damages of requiring kids to stay home all day instead of speaking face-to-face with educators and peers. I will never forget the privilege it was to get to remain in school for the duration of that bitter Minnesota January, but it was only the beginning of the countless ways Mr. Patrek was able to influence me. What is important to note about Mr. Patrek is that he would set aside time for just about anyone if they needed help in school. In my study halls spent in his room, I've seen struggling student after struggling student sit at his desk while he went through their grades pointing out what they were failing and drawing out Lewis dot structures on the board. I began to notice a shift within myself, where I would usually give out answers to my peers I began sitting down with them, offering my notes, explaining the content embracing the concept of teaching a man to fish rather than giving him one. My friend and I are co-chairs for our school's Youth in Government- and when the previous teacher quit of course Mr. Patrek was the first person we came to, to which he gave a resounding no. But after we came to him upset at our lack of a head teacher to run our club, he simply said, "Oh come on you knew I was gonna do it. I just won't do any work." To his credit- he didn't do much work. But that was just what we were looking for. He got us a bus and a place to hold meetings, and we knew he secretly cared about the outcome of our efforts. The remarkable thing about Mr. Patrek though, is that even though I feel like we're his favorite students, you would have yourself a hard time finding anyone else at our school who didn't have at least one story about him saving their grade, writing them a letter of recommendation, noticing when something was wrong. He is the nicest man I've ever met and I strive to be like him in countless facets of my life. Except for- as he reminds me- "somehow ending up teaching in the same place he went to school and lived his whole life". But I know he secretly loves it. He's the teacher we needed, but do not deserve.

After my sophomore year of being in my school’s Youth in Government, my friend and I were chosen to be the next year’s co-chairs. Partly due to our stunning charisma and passion for the club, but more likely it was since I was the only member of the club who had more than a year of experience. This was a daunting task as I was the only remaining student left from the five person group I had joined a year ago. The club was small, unknown, and largely unrecognized by the school. We couldn’t get a bus, we weren’t in the yearbook, and we numbered a measly 10. But my good friend Josie and I took on the challenge: presenting to every class and dotting the halls with hand made posters all with the promise of being the most fun club at our highschool, and it worked. The study hall meeting meant to gauge interest had to be moved out of a classroom and into the lunchroom because it had an astounding 90 people signed up to attend. That was almost the size of our grade! In the end, our delegation had a modest 25. But we worked tirelessly researching every program area, editing people’s bills, proceedings, and arguments. We made slideshows explaining objections, procedure, opening statements, closing statements. Whatever we could do to ensure the success of our members. The conference came and everyone did great. We had kids from other schools approach us saying they wished their delegation’s chair had done an “objections game”, because one of our freshmen was so good at objections they won an award for their excellency in mock trial courts for their age group. Another freshman was recognized for their excellent bill on animal testing. I remember looking back and not believing this was the same club I joined in ninth grade. I had built what it is today. Without me, it likely would have disbanded. As for the future, I am looking to harness these leadership skills not only for my final year as delegation leader for the St. Anthony Youth in Government, but also by using that passion for a possible career in politics. I’d like to bring about positive changes in my community, country, and even on a global scale. Rather than drafting and debating mock bills, I could actually implement policies that address pressing issues and improve the overall well-being of the people I’d serve. Especially in such a politically divided world, I think my leadership skills could aim to bridge gaps and foster unity among diverse groups. Building consensus and finding common ground that can lead to more effective governance and societal harmony. My main interest politically being to promote economic growth, create job opportunities, and ensure financial stability. I intend to support businesses, encourage entrepreneurship, and enact policies that stimulate economic development. I hope that my ability to command a room and my strong leadership qualities can translate into improving the world I live in one way or another. If not politics as a career, then continuing to inspire and educate young people on the importance of moral, productive civic conversations.

Middle school is hard for any teen girl, both academically and socially. But for me, middle school with undiagnosed attention deficit disorder was excruciating. ADHD is seen as a disorder for hyperactive young boys, so it is underdiagnosed and misunderstood in its female population. It took me and my family four long years of speech pathologists, neuro-psych evaluations, and assessments to receive a diagnosis. It's since been explained to me that this is because ADHD manifests itself very differently in women. Generally this means struggling with executive functioning skills, difficulty regulating emotions, impulsivity, and lack of organization. Personally, this led to many self-esteem issues. I’d compare myself to my peers, who appeared to be handling tasks effortlessly, and I felt utterly useless. My inability to remain organized and tidy was in such stark contrast to the girls around me with planners and gel pens. I felt messy and stupid and obnoxious. However, in my long journey to receiving a medical diagnosis I did develop systems to overcome academic challenges. I had to work so much harder than my peers to maintain good grades, and those good grades made me ineligible for learning plans at my school. Once I finally had evidence of my disorder to provide for my highschool in hopes of a “504 plan”, my mother and I were discouraged to find I didn’t qualify since I was a good student. Now maybe this is fair, I’d never want advantages over other people I don’t deserve. But this whole time it’s felt like I’ve been overcoming a severe disadvantage to keep up. How do I manage? Well, I learned I had trouble reading long pieces of text unless I could hear them, so I search for online audiobooks and go so far as to copy and paste text into Google Translate so I can grasp the content. I learned over quarantine I can’t adequately follow along with lessons that are online or do worksheets on my computer, so many of my study halls are spent in the library printing out handouts and articles or begging my teacher to let me write essays by hand. My lack of attention and difficulty with particularly math and science has only been remedied by making use of my “hyperfocus”, where I am sometimes able to direct all my energy to one thing and tune out everything else, even if this means I come off as rude or I completely lose track of time. As debilitating as this has felt at times, my passion for learning and starting a career has grown exponentially. I really like school and am looking to major in Spanish and/or business- but someday I’d like to be some kind of teacher since I think my ADHD would make me great at working with different types of minds and catering to them so every kid I encounter can be set on a better road for their academics going forward. I look to secondary education to provide a platform for networking and building social connections with peers, professors, and professionals. These connections could be valuable for my future collaborations, mentorship, and career opportunities. Pursuing higher education as a girl with ADHD can be a form of self-empowerment. By successfully navigating the academic environment, I can become an advocate for others with ADHD, challenging stereotypes and promoting greater understanding and acceptance. I can use all of the unique ways my brain works to stand out and exemplify my distinctive qualities, which will serve as an asset rather than a burden.

I love golf. I always have. For as long as I can remember my dad and I were out on par three courses, driving ranges, putting greens. to the extent that my father and his friend built a mini model of Augusta holes 11, 12, and 13 in our backyard where you can putt and chip little foam balls. The girl's golf program at my school allowed free and unlimited access to our local golf course. So every day after school you could find me playing at least nine holes trying to etch down my score. Rain or shine, hot or cold, I was there. So although our golf program was not so robust, I was always proud to sport the best score at every match. And along with golf, I love school. Like I really do. Something about the traditional high school experience is so enjoyable to me. When waiting for my tee time I've often sat in the lobby finishing up homework maintaining my above 3.9 GPA. I think there is a correlation between playing golf and being proficient in school. My dad always tells me about the importance of being calm and relaxed in your golf swing. And beyond that golf is certainly a game of adapting to unforeseen obstacles. these values translate very well into academics I believe. Staying cool under pressure and overcoming challenges are supremely undervalued life skills. Golf's connections and sportsmanlike behavior have bred many valuable relationships and friends in my life- though specifically that is my golf coach, Mike Sholl. Mike Sholl is a shining example of a model community member- hosting several nonprofit fundraisers in his neighborhood for various causes. Fundraisers I always attend or volunteer even now that I am not on his golf team anymore. Whether it's handing out tickets at school events or painting faces for hours in his backyard carnival, I am ever appreciative of the charitable opportunities given to me by my old coach. I have also gained valuable leadership skills I can make use of on or off the golf course. Mainly, my work coaching youth golf with First Tee MN. Little Chippers is a summer class that I once was a part of. Now I am so fortunate to be a coach for that very organization. I pride myself on being very good at holding the attention and being able to entertain these young kids- I use games like "poison" and "pool" and give out rewards and candies all with the primary intention of sparking the lifelong passion for golf that I have. The leadership and dedication I've acquired also serve me as I am a co-chair for my school's Youth in Government. I carry the etiquette and level-headedness I've learned in golf with me there, and wherever I go. So as I look at law or business as potential careers, those paths are long and arduous. I work three jobs to ensure the least amount of debt possible and have begun dedicating a lot of my free time to building my future. However, in all the uncertainty, I know whichever way my life goes; golf will follow. The beauty of the sport is its longevity. I know that I will continue to hone my craft, forge meaningful connections, exhibit leadership, and just have fun for many years to come.