My mom and I lost my dad when I was only seven years old. Ever since the day he went to heaven, my mom has pushed me to be the best I can be. She worked every single day I was at school and sent me to private school even though she was the only source of income coming in. We didn't go on vacation much after he died because money was tight, but she still found a way to scrimp and save and send me to a private school my whole school career. I've always been a pretty good student, getting straight A's without much effort. However, all of that changed this year, when I went to high school. My workload is way more than it was in middle school, and it's a little overwhelming. Despite that, my mom is always there to encourage me when I get stressed out about work, and gently nudges me back to finish my homework. A few years back, I got interested in language learning using the language learning app Duolingo. I started a journey with Spanish that, over eleven hundred days later, I'm still practicing every day. And that would not have been possible without her help, especially since I can't do my daily lesson on church or school trips. My mom had a friend who taught Spanish at a local university, and she set up a system where we went over to her house twice a week during the summer to practice my skills with her. All of that combined made it possible for me to become fluent in Spanish, and a few months ago, I reached that point while on yet another mission trip with my church. I could not have done anything even close to that had she not been there to support me every step of the way. During elementary and middle school, my school offered the opportunity to compete in a smaller, private-school version of UIL called PSIA. A teacher recommended that I try out for the geography competition, and I agreed to do it, even though I'd never even looked at an atlas or seemed vaguely interested in geography. My mom reminded me to practice every day, and it paid off when I made the team and became the reigning state champion from fourth to eighth grade when the competition ended. Especially in my eighth-grade year, when the pressure was palpable for me to win again and finish the competition as never-beaten state champion, she helped me get prepared. I had switched schools that year, and my new school did not offer the competition. Therefore, we registered as a homeschool and my mom coordinated everything for me. The whole thing stressed her out a ton, but she still did it so I could compete and possibly win again. And win I did. I could list all the other times she's supported me on my educational journey, but I would run out of space before I could finish this essay. I love her and the way she's helped me with everything I'm interested in academically, and I hope I can pay forward everything she's done for me to my kids one day later on in my life.

If I could have everyone in the world read just one book, that book would be The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. The book offers a picture of a post-apocalyptic world that seems like it could be just around the corner in these uncertain times. It gives readers a look at modern discussion topics brought about in a novel fashion. Obviously, we are not Katniss, Peeta, and Gale, involved in a love triangle and also caught in a game of death and misery. However, we can still take valuable lessons from their actions and decisions throughout the book. And, most importantly, we can talk about these relatable characters, and how their decisions and actions compare to our fat, happy, Westernized ones. Katniss is not always right, and certainly not someone you want your child to idolize, but she is an example of humanity overcoming adversity. For the sake of love, she defies the standards. And over the arc of the trilogy, she pays dearly for it. But in the end, it turns out to be worth it as she lives "happily ever after" with Peeta. Katniss shows bravery that is remarkable and admirable, which is near-impossible to find in our modern, "civilized" world. Peeta is likely the most psychologically interesting character in the story. His feelings for Katniss motivate him to be punished yet inadvertently save her life. And while he cares deeply for her, his care does not always manifest itself helpfully. He wants to protect the woman he loves but ends up making life so much harder for her by doing so. Katniss, he fails to realize, does not need protection. This draws a stark contrast to our modern world, where men abandon their families and abuse them because they feel powerless and unable to help themselves. Gale is unreliable. There is no in-depth analysis you can make of his unpredictable actions throughout the book. He is just a tortured man who cares, but not enough to strive for what he wants. He is a stark contrast to Peeta, who cares too much. We can all breathe a sigh of relief at the end of the book when Katniss and Peeta get together. But the story doesn't end there. We need to take Katniss's courage and Peeta's love and reliability and use their imperfect but admirable examples to change our imperfect, lazy, self-involved world.

What would you think if I told you I barely knew my dad? I know I seem like a regular ninth grader, kind of popular, kind of funny, and very athletic. Most people wouldn't associate me with tragedy. Yet I lost my dad to cardiac arrest when I was seven, and it's impacted my life more than I could ever express in words. There's a hole there that can't and won't ever be filled by anyone else, and, sadly, I'm used to it. I don't remember much about my dad. At all. Most of what I know are things I've been told by my grandparents or my mom. I can't picture his face, don't remember his voice too well. The memories have been warped by time, like water-damaged wood. I have these brief glimpses into the past, this memory that can't be pieced back together. I'm left with thousands of tiny shards of glass that can never be repaired back to the beautiful vase it once was. It's strange trying to think about the day he had the heart attack because I can't see it in my head. Can't see him, can't see the pool we had been swimming in although I have been there many times since. It's this confusing mess of us swimming, of his body acting uncontrollably, of him saying he didn't know what he was doing. It skips over me pulling him out of the pool water and onto the pavement. Then it's me not knowing how to call 911. It skips past me crossing the street for the first time by myself and goes straight to the sirens. Then a dark kitchen with green walls and a fruit bowl, which my mom says is in a neighbor's house. Then nothing. My dad had always had poor health, was a type one diabetic, and was often out of work. When he was taken off of life support in the hospital, my mom took on the financial burden of paying for countless visits to the courthouse [they had gotten divorced a week before his heart attack] as well as paying for counseling for me. And her. And the cost of raising a child as a single parent and trying to send him to private school while being self-employed. I don't know how she did it. I found my track talent almost accidentally. I had been mediocre at cross country in my seventh- and eighth-grade years, but everyone at my school said I would be good at track. Eventually, I caved and tried track in the spring of eighth grade. Of course, I was the overachiever and juggled both running track and going to practice every day for my school's play. I barely got to go to track practice because the practice times were the same. Despite that, I got better and better throughout the season. I love to run now. I know some of the high school runners help out the middle schoolers, and I think I'd love to try that this season. My life is a story of taking bad and turning it into good. It's not the tragedy that defines you, but rather the way you cope and overcome it. I want people to know that. I want to make an impact with my life.