I've been following Sabrina Carpenter's career since she was on Sofia the First and I was a little girl who was more obsessed with the idea of a pet dragon than a magic amulet. When her Thumbs music video started running on Disney Channel in between episodes of Jesse, I fell in love with the cinematography and the lyrics were constantly stuck in my head. The first time I ever visited my aunt and uncle upstate, they asked me what kind of music I listened to, and I played them her Eyes Wide Open album. Needless to say, when she finally started blowing up with Espresso, I was ecstatic. I cheered for her at the last two Grammy awards and have patiently waited for new releases and music videos. To watch someone grow up - who, by all means, is not that much older than you are - and become more of their own person while, at the same time, earning more of what they deserve is a wonderful experience. At the expense of sounding incredibly parasocial, I feel immensely proud of her. And, in one way in particular, it gives me hope for myself. The music that I listen to isn't actually primarily pop music. Rock and punk make up most of my playlists at this point. The music that I desire to create also falls under those umbrellas. So, if you will please excuse an extreme comparison, Disney limiting her creative visions earlier on feels similar to how I currently feel with my parents not exactly enjoying the music that I enjoy. I hope to one day grow away from them and have the freedom to create what I want to create just like she did. Sabrina Carpenter is a wonderful artist and I can't wait to see her and her career continue to grow - especially while I finally get to start mine.

My motivation to start mock trial and my motivation to continue with mock trial were, admittedly, two separate things. The teacher that ran the team, Mr. Crowley, visited elective classes to convince students to join the team. My elective was an acting class. So when my acting teacher also endorsed it, saying that participating as a witness counts as documented acting experience, my only thought was "Why not?" So I auditioned, met the criteria, and got a spot on the team as a witness. In the beginning, I started to regret it. The team was mostly comprised of law students, so I was very out of my element. To make matters worse, the only friend I had on the team and I were opposing councils, so in the early stages, we wouldn't interact that much. But Mr. Crowley liked me. I ended up being the only person from an acting class to try out for the team, so he immediately liked my go-getter attitude. Additionally, my experience from theatre bled into mock trial in more ways than one. Playing a realistic witness that went beyond memorization is a clear impact, but I ended up leading the entire time in vocal warm-ups numerous times in order to help with articulation and projection. To be blunt, my motivation to continue with mock trial was simple - I wanted to continue to make Mr. Crowley proud. Thank goodness I did because the experiences that came with competing taught me a lot about myself both in and out of the courtroom. Experimenting with dressing more masculinely in a professional setting was phenomenal, and knowing more about what goes into conducting a court of law gave me a lot of respect for the professionals that do it everyday. Plus, the sense of family that came from the team and the sportsmanship from other schools will stick with me for a long time. A piece of trivia that I learned through mock trail is what the title "esquire" means. In a conversation with my school librarian, I had asked what that add-on to the end of Mr. Crowley's name meant. It was then that I found out he was, in fact, a licensed attorney himself. My mind was blown. It made some pieces fall into place - the way that he talked always seemed to come from experience - but it also astounded me. To do all of the work to become a licensed attorney, but still make the sacrifice to become a high school teacher moved me. For the first time, I fully understood why people become teachers. Sometimes, when you learn and experience all that you desire to, all you wish to do is pass that on to those who wish to learn and experience the same things. I want to be an actor, which is very different from an attorney, but Mr. Crowley inspired me to pursue further education in a way that previous teachers within the arts hadn't: Learn all that you can, experience all that you can, take every opportunity that comes your way, but don't forget to give back to where you once came. I have the sincere hope that further education will give me what it takes to succeed. But beyond that, I hope that all I gain from further education allows me to one day pass it on to those like me. More than anything, I hope to one day give back to Mr. Crowley for the unexpected life lesson that he taught me through mock trial.

What going to college means to me is not a simple question, nor does it have a simple answer. From the moment I was old enough to understand how the school system worked, the idea of college was put in front of me. When I was really young, I didn't entirely understand just how impossible of a goal that is for some - it was always presented as the next step after high school. And I loved school! So of course I made it a goal to go to college. As I got older, college became less of a goal in mind and more of a "someday". I had middle school applications to take care of, and then high school applications, and then making sure that my transcript would look good on college applications. College existed as a concept for "someday". "Someday" is coming pretty soon, and now I'm not quite sure what that means. I know what it means for my elders. Across the two generations that came before me, as well as the four older half-siblings who weren't as lucky, I would be the first person in the family to graduate college. I know what it means for my juniors, too. My little brother and little sister would finally have that standard set for them, and I know that they doubt that it's possible. I also doubt that it's possible. Generally, I know that college means education. And I know that, historically, the right to education was used to oppress. In terms of my history, college means accessing something that had been denied to my family and others like us time and time again. It also means making myself stronger in an era of constant misinformation and propaganda - even today, it makes me harder to oppress. So, in that vein, I guess what college means to me isn't a hard question: it's the next step. What I'm trying to accomplish, on the other hand, is hard to figure out. What exactly does the next step mean if I don't know where I'm going? Of course I have dreams. Of course I fantasize about accepting Tony awards and seeing the world. Of course I fantasize about red carpets and press tours. Of course I fantasize about being larger than life. But, more than that, I want to be able to take a day off without having to worry about whether or not I'll still have enough money to cover the bills by the end of the month. I want to enter a store and not make a beeline for the clearance rack. I want to be able to look in the eyes of my future kids and not see guilt in their eyes when they ask for money to go out with friends. I could tell a story about how I want to headline Broadway and win Pulitzers, and I could tell that story well. At the end of the day, I can't say that those are things I seriously hope to accomplish. I can work towards them, and they would be nice. But what I really want to accomplish is a life. If I can live without worrying about surviving the way my parents have, and my grandparents have, and I've learned to thus far, I know I will be satisfied. College gives me a chance at life.

The first time I acted, I was 15 years old. Auditioning on a whim meant that I didn't have any expectations. In fact, a named role was so far above said expectations, I almost didn't accept it when I saw my name on the cast list. Prince Escalus in William Shakespeare's "Romeo & Juliet". It was interesting, to say the least. I felt empty inside when the show was over. Three months came and went, and I ultimately felt nothing about my performance. When the anxiety that was strong enough to make my hands shake as I struggled to read a letter on stage finally dissipated, there was nothing. Not pride, not disappointment, but nothing. Being backstage was a riot, though. Students were incredibly involved, so even though I was a freshman and supporting cast, I helped with fight choreography. Listening to an audience react to something I choreographed was the height of the experience. I didn't feel like an actor, I didn't like acting, but I did like theatre. The teachers involved with the production knew me, and I knew them, and I liked theatre, so with what I can only describe as "YOLO" attitude, I auditioned again next year. This time, I was the second female lead: Elizabeth Proctor in Arthur Miller's "The Crucible". With less anxiety around performing, I was able to get into the acting part more. Researching real life events in order to pick and choose what I wanted to influence my performance, speaking in the first person when talking about the character even outside of rehearsal spaces, and even running lines in my dreams all became key parts of the experience. I liked being an actor. However, between peers never really talking to me like someone on their level, since to them, I was already better than them, even though I definitely didn't feel that way, and the belief that I owed it to my teachers to be outstanding - just good wasn't good enough, it had to be outstanding - I only ever continued out of fear. The anxiety from Romeo & Juliet didn't dissipate, but rather, took a new form. I liked theatre, and I liked being an actor, but I didn't like acting. That summer, for a reason I cannot pinpoint, I participated in a theatre program. Free from the expectations and comments from people I knew, I was able to look at acting for what it was: an art form. The focus was on honing my craft, but in the process, I grew as a person and stepped into my role as an artist. Acting was something that I finally learned to love, and while surrounded by others who were learning that same thing, my passion exploded. This past year, I played Dracula in my school's production of Steven Dietz's "Dracula". There is never going to be a high school production that changes the world, but regardless of the level of theatre, every production is guaranteed to change someone's life. I know this because every single one I stumbled into changed mine, to the point where I am no longer stumbling. Instead, I am chasing. I love theatre. I love being an actor. I love acting. I want to continue that pattern. Now that I know what the arts can do for someone, I want to be a part of that same exact impact on someone else. It would be impossible for me to do anything else knowing the opportunities for others I could be creating, and as such, the time in my own life that I would be wasting.