When my family and I moved from San Antonio, Texas, to Ramstein, Germany, my world collapsed. I lost my home, my friends, and everything I knew to live in a new country. My parents told me, “You'll get used to it,” but that felt further than the truth. The streets I walked down were unfamiliar to the eye, and the language I spoke was now foreign to the general population. The blueprint of my life was changing, and I did not have the tools to prevent it from happening. I was eleven years old when we first moved to Germany, and it was a nightmare. I faced going to school two weeks late with no friends. My family’s constant complaints lingered like an unwanted scent, weighing on me and making it harder to feel at home. I hated going anywhere because of the unfamiliar voices that sounded harsh and unfriendly. I didn't feel at home, and I would cry myself to sleep every night, hoping to wake up to a dream. Beyond the unfamiliar walls and designs, I stepped up to the challenge and looked for something to hold onto. In this mindset, I found architecture. I remember traveling around Europe for the first time and realizing my love for it. The streets of France, the historic structures of Amsterdam, and the majestic mountains of Switzerland showed me how each country represents its culture through architecture. One of my favorite trips was when I went to a German Christmas market in Munich. It was cold, about 30 degrees, and I was shivering as snow fell from the sky. Looking up, I recalled how astonishing each building looked, especially one in particular. Marienplatz was the name of this building, designed by Georg von Hauberrisser, a German architect who believed architecture should carry history and meaning through detail and Gothic expression. This building had surreal, detailed carvings, spires, and statues along with a clock. I wondered how one structure could tell a story through its curves and designs. In that moment, I was truly inspired, and it made me realize architecture was something I wanted to do in life. Since that moment, I’ve never desired to be anything more. I took four years of architecture in high school and made countless models and sketches. One of my favorites was building a cabin near a lake in Texas. I enjoyed it because it helped challenge my improvisation in working with small square footage requirements. In addition, I recently received my Revit certification, a software that is used in many professional businesses to create real-world structures. These experiences have taught me the reality of architecture and have shown me it’s something I want to pursue in life. Moving to Germany gave me experiences and lessons that many individuals don't get in a lifetime. It taught a little girl that you don't have to look in the same direction for happiness. It's okay to get out of your comfort zone and look past things that are considered “different” and challenging. The transition of moving to another country was difficult, but in the long run, it has been one of the most unforgettable experiences and has shaped who I want to become in the future.

Imagine you're on the start line of a cross-country meet. Your hands are sweaty. Butterflies are in your stomach. You look into the crowd and find all eyes on you. A man with a gun comes and yells, “On your marks, set,” and he fires into the air. The crowd immediately cheers as you run through the course. Time passes. You hit the first mile. Your legs are warmed up, and you tell yourself to control your breathing and keep pace. Minutes later, you are drenched, and other runners start to slow down. The thought of stopping crosses your mind, but you refuse because your teammates are depending on you. Now the finish line is in sight. Your legs are numb, and you're drained. You think about the effort you put into this race, so you push through, running as fast as you can. You see your teammates and parents cheer for you as you run toward victory and realize, "I've done it." Cross country is a sport that takes dedication, perseverance, and determination. When I run through the course, everything is dependent on my thoughts, and I have to push myself to make it across the finish line. Although it may sound easy to others, the preparation behind the scenes proves otherwise, especially with academics. For example, every morning before school, my teammates and I are up and moving by 6:45 a.m., doing aerobic or endurance-based workouts. We finish at about 8:30, with four to five miles down. Then we shower and head straight to class. When the school day ends, I go to club meetings that usually last about an hour and a half, then head straight home to do my work until about eleven or twelve at night. This cycle repeats almost every day and becomes exhausting, especially with Saturday competitions. However, it eventually becomes a routine, and in time, you get used to it. I remember the first time I went to practice and encountered the hassle of academic work and intense workouts all in one. It was the first day of school my sophomore year, and I had just finished practice. I walked to the showers, and it was about 8:50 a.m., and my teacher stated, “You have until 9:15 to get ready.” I never moved so fast in my life. Looking back now, it’s funny how unprepared I was for the amount of time and effort I was in for. And I honestly never realized it until I was already in that situation. Cross country has definitely been an activity that has taken up a lot of my time and energy. Although sometimes I do complain about staying up late to do homework and then waking up in the morning to go work out, it’s all worth it. I have learned the value of hard work, determination, and teamwork. I have created memories with my friends and teammates. I have built accountability, responsibility, and perseverance. And I have, most importantly, learned lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

When my family and I moved from San Antonio, Texas, to Ramstein, Germany, my world collapsed. I lost my home, my friends, and everything I knew to live in a new country. My parents told me, “You'll get used to it,” but that felt far from the truth. The streets I walked down were unfamiliar, and the language I spoke was now foreign. The blueprint of my life was changing, and I did not have the tools to prevent it from happening. I was eleven years old when we first moved to Germany, and it was a nightmare. I faced going to school two weeks late with no friends. My family’s constant complaints lingered like an unwanted scent, making it harder to feel at home. I hated going anywhere because the unfamiliar voices sounded harsh. I didn't feel at home, and I would cry myself to sleep every night hoping to wake up to a dream. Beyond the unfamiliar walls and designs, I stepped up to the challenge and looked for something to hold onto. In this mindset, I found architecture. I remember traveling around Europe for the first time and realizing my love for it. The streets of France, historic structures of Amsterdam, and majestic mountains of Switzerland showed me how each country represents their culture through architecture. One of my favorite trips was when I went to a German Christmas market in Munich. It was freezing cold, about 30 degrees, and I was shivering as snow fell from the sky. Looking up, I recalled how astonishing each building looked, especially one in particular. Marienplatz was the name of this building, designed by Georg von Hauberrisser, a German architect who believed architecture should carry history and meaning through detail and Gothic expression. This building had surreal detailed carvings, spires, and statues along with a clock. I wondered how one structure could tell a story through its curves and designs. In that moment, I was inspired and realized architecture was something I wanted to pursue. Since that moment, I’ve never desired to be anything more. I took four years of architecture in high school and made countless models and sketches. One of my favorites was building a cabin near a lake in Texas. I enjoyed it because it helped challenge my improvisation in working with small square footage requirements. In addition, I recently received my Revit certification, a software that is used in many professional businesses to create real-world structures. These experiences have taught me the reality of architecture and have shown me it’s something I want to pursue in life. Moving to Germany gave me lessons many individuals don't get in a lifetime. It taught a little girl that you don't have to look in the same direction for happiness and that it's okay to step outside of your comfort zone and embrace challenges. The transition of moving to another country was difficult, but in the long run, it has been one of the most unforgettable experiences and has shaped who I am today. As a future architect, I plan to bring my experiences into my designs and build structures that are unique and out of my comfort zone. I want to create foundations that make people feel comfortable in their environment and tell stories that make an impact. I am no longer the little girl who wanted to prevent new experiences from coming into her life. I have become a future architect who seeks opportunities to positively shape my life and the lives of others.

A coach is defined as a trainer who helps individuals on a team develop skills through feedback, accountability, and guidance. They push their athletes to a limit they know they are capable of, leading them to success and waking up every morning with a mindset to help their students reach victory. This job is unlike any other; it requires putting others before yourself and building a strong, motivated team. Although often overlooked, being a coach takes more than just leadership and guidance. It includes the essentials of being supportive, respectful, empathetic, encouraging, and challenging. Holding this title of a coach comes with great value and is not easy to live up to. Coach Ortiz was one of the few people whom many loved and looked up to. He was a ray of sunshine, always motivating and encouraging his athletes. Although I never had the opportunity to meet him, his presence is something that never fades. Each morning before school, when we go to practice, Coach Strickland and my teammates always recognize him in the sunrise, remembering how much he was fascinated by the view. Even seeing a bike brings a sudden quiet among us, as if we are collectively transported to memories of Coach Ortiz and the ways he inspired others. While I never saw him coaching, the stories people share and the emotions that arise during practice create a sense of connection, as if his spirit still guides us. Although Coach Ortiz is not physically here, his presence still lies with us. His influence persists in the motivation and unity we feel as a team, revealing the true effect he had as a coach on his students, athletes, and the people who surrounded him. Even though the word "coach" has a dictionary definition, it means nothing until you put a name next to it—someone whose actions, dedication, and impact truly bring the word to life. For us, that name is Coach Ortiz. His legacy is embedded in every practice, every competition, and every victory we celebrate. A coach is not just someone who teaches skills; they build character, inspire perseverance, and help build our strengths and weaknesses. Through the stories and memories shared by those who knew him, Coach Ortiz continues to set the standard for what it truly means to lead. His example reminds us that a great coach leaves behind more than trophies and records but an imprint on athletes' lives. To me, a coach is more than a title— it’s about the lives they have impacted, the lessons they have taught, and the spirit left behind. For our team at William J. Brennan High School, Coach Ortiz embodies all of this, revealing the true definition of a coach.