I often tell my friends that when I grow up, I want to be just like our AP environmental science teacher. Between her captivating lessons about aquatic ecosystems and clean energy sources, Dr. MacGregor recounts the stories of her life’s most marvelous adventures. From working on Alaskan expedition boats to developing coyote birth control, she has no shortage of amazing experiences. I’m envious of her ability to turn imagination into reality; anything she dreamed of, she did. Thus, when I grow up, I want to be just like Dr. MacGregor; I want my life to be an ongoing stream of adventure flowing from the lake of my imagination. Truthfully, my dream life includes a long backstory in which I realize I’m a descendant of a Greek Deity or another magical lineage and embark on constant quests to save the world. I’m well aware that I probably won’t be joining Percy Jackson at Camp Halfblood anytime soon, though. Fortunately, reality affords the same beautiful landscapes of fantasy novels, and unfortunately, there are ample issues facing modern society that I may journey to solve. After attending Cornell University for a bachelor's degree in Environment & Sustainability and graduate school for a dual master’s degree in Environmental Science and Creative Writing, I hope to similarly my working time. I’ll spend half of the year working on conservation research and the other half writing young adult fantasy novels about the environment. In every aspect of my life and career, I want to be living for the grander purpose of fighting climate change. I may end up writing a New York Times Bestseller or remain an unsung hero for my contributions to the battle. Regardless, my biggest dream is to say at the end of my life that I was part of a grander adventure.

Every Sunday afternoon, I arrive at the Roasterie Cafe ready to rejuvenate with coffee and people-watching. After a week’s worth of hard work, my mind feels drained and barren, but my motivation is renewed by the stories I create for the people around me. I take note of the facial expressions staring back at screens of textbooks and assignments. I collect memories of pastry orders like stamps. These tiny insights into the grander lives of strangers help me understand them as whole people. The imagined lives of the Roasterie regulars may stray far from their realities, but they live on in the land of my imagination. As a writer, creating these characters sparks my mind’s electrical circuits; understanding more about real people allows me to craft more realistic characters. Oftentimes, my best stories are inspired by observations of real people around me; understanding the needs of others allows me to better portray such needs in writing, which makes readers feel seen. I pride myself on living compassionately; I’ll always keep listening to a friend whose story was interrupted and often keep a stash of snacks in the car in case I see someone who needs them at an intersection. I care deeply for the people around me, and my emotional intelligence allows me to express it. Without this trait, it would be difficult to recognize when a friend is feeling uncomfortable but trying to tough it out. My life feels more meaningful when I can brighten the day of someone who secretly needed it. Unlike the characters in my stories, I have no idea what the people around me are truly experiencing, but I can identify what they feel and act accordingly.

1. This is my dog Behr! He is an English Cream Retriever, but don't be fooled by the name! He still doesn't understand fetch; his favorite game is begging for treats. 2. This is my best buddy! My cat Po Panda is missing his front teeth, so his tongue sticks out sometimes. 3. This is my cat Lily, but we call her KitKat. She may look terrified in this photo, but I swear, she loves me! 4. This energy fluffball is known to our family as Mulvaney. This Bernedoodle may be huge, but he still thinks he's a lapdog.

On every trek to snag an Orange Crush from my grandparents’ chilly garage, I stop shortly after sneaking past my siblings with a sippy cup in hand. On the refrigerator door, my Nana documents her most beloved treasures. My eyes trail the familiar path from my second grade picture day photo with double braids to her dogs’ annual visit with Santa until they finally land on the postcard from her favorite children: her adopted wolves from Wolf Park in Indiana. I share with my Nana my humble strength, ambition, compassion, and mostly, my love for animals. Every Christmas, the greatest under-the-tree joy came from discovering which endangered animal my Nana symbolically adopted for me from the World Wildlife Foundation. Largely inspired by my Nana’s compassion, I’ve always felt connected to endangered species conservation. On a mid-September morning, my AP Environmental Science teacher solidified my passion for the issue. The air was far too warm for the time of year, and the sweat of global warming ironically dampened my neck as I walked to APES. The stains on my shirt only darkened as I remembered my friends’ warnings of class time that day. On Monday, we started a documentary entitled Racing Extinction, which details the heartbreaking pace at which humans are causing extinction. “It only gets sadder,” Kirsten said. Oh no, I thought, this won’t be good. I’m a sucker for animals. I was right; as I watched hunters violently murder manta rays, my second favorite animal, and sell their body parts, I cried enough tears to start an ocean animal hospital. My teacher’s goal, though, was not to make us cry but to introduce us to endangered species legislation. The documentary's creators, namely Louis Psihoyos and Shawn Heinrichs, spent years researching and documenting the manta ray trade, fought their way to the CITES convention, presented their studies, and convinced the organization to add manta rays to the list of protected species. Watching the progress of their journey, from underground investigation to eloquently presenting at an international convention, lit a fire within me. The chair below me burned my skin like a trail of fire ants; I wanted to get up and do something to help solve this issue. I knew, though, that my path to help would take longer than that shown in the film. I have already begun my journey to health the Earth, as I’ve interned at a local composting non-profit and made personal attempts to lessen my ecological footprint. In August, though, I will embark on a larger conservation trek; I will begin studying Environment and Sustainability at Cornell University with a plan to pursue environmental law. I want to replicate the amazing work I saw in the documentary, convincing committees to care about critical creatures. One day, I hope to work at the World Wildlife Foundation as a project leader, and I hope to guide others to leave a loving impact on the Earth’s species.

While teaching an international social justice zoom class, the genuine compassion of my young students reached through the distance and screen to touch my heart. After discussing topics like human oneness, I often ended the call confounded by the emotional capacity of middle schoolers. Thinking of their early wisdom and optimism instills within me hope for the future of humanity. I was raised surrounded by strong women, so by the time I knew my ABCs, I also knew the ins and outs of women's empowerment. Thus, I was raised to care deeply about the fight for gender equality, and I quickly found my passion for all social justice. However, when the fight feels like me against the structural inequality governing the world, my efforts sometimes feel futile. The memory of the kind children I taught, though, guides me out of that dark place and reminds me that I'm not crusading alone. The resiliency of the new generation, through astoundingly challenging times, inspires me to keep going. Every night, I dream of trailblazing through the historically male-dominated field of STEM and making discoveries that inspire young girls to pursue science. The potential of youth constantly pushes me to achieve, and I hope that my achievements can inspire them to do the same.

Tears streamed down my face as I cried out to my uncle, "Please stop killing that tree! It can feel what you're doing, and you're hurting it!" Only seven years old, I saw no reason to trim tree branches. In hindsight, my uncle was actually helping the tree by removing dead branches, but at the time, I found the act barbaric. As far back as I can remember, I have felt an incredible connection to nature. As a child, I would insist that I connected with the soul of every animal, plant, and rock that I saw. Years later, I hold the same belief. Nature is the connecting force of all beings on the Earth, and so, I have always felt the drive to protect it. At this point in my life, though, crying to my uncle does not get me very far. In the face of climate change and the overconsumption of natural resources, my methods of conservation have grown. My family began to cultivate a bee farm after reading about the current bee crisis; without the important pollinators, every ecosystem will fall apart. We currently maintain seven beehives, and I have even conducted lessons on beekeeping at school. To supplement the diet of our bees, we supply them with a plethora of pollinator-friendly flowers and plants in our garden. Additionally, I am an intern at a local composting non-profit that allows me to expand the reach of my conservation. Throughout my internship, I have drafted and edited proposals for new clients, developed youth outreach via social media and summer camp programs, and designed an exhibit for a local nature sanctuary. Diverting food waste from landfills is essential for preventing further damage to nature from climate change. The best way to appreciate nature is to protect it.