My name is Paige Colquhoun, and I have loved dance my entire life. It has been my dependable outlet since I began dancing at three years old, and now I have the opportunity to teach young dancers and inspire a similar love of dance by teaching classes at a local studio. By teaching these classes, I have begun to see a new side of my passion for dance by helping others. There is nothing like seeing a dancer's progress from the beginning of the year to the end. What brings me the most joy is the warm feeling that envelops me when I realize I am a small stepping stone in someone else’s growth. It is truly fulfilling to witness their journey, from tentative beginnings to confident strides, knowing that my support and encouragement have played a part in their development. Each milestone they achieve feels like a shared victory, highlighting the importance of our connection and the impact of the guidance I offered along the way. This experience has led me to become a dance coach by studying Kinesiology, with a focus on Education, at the University of the Incarnate Word in San Antonio, Texas. Using this degree, I want to inspire a new generation of dancers to be more than physically skilled. I want to use compassion and love while teaching, creating a safe space for the dancers in the room. Dancers should feel loved, heard, and respected while they're on my team or in my class. Positive motivation and constructive criticism are crucial to me becoming this person, but also a good education. Unfortunately, this has become more difficult for my family due to the death of my father. In November of 2024, my father, John Colquhoun, was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia but only had to fight until December 10th, when he was reunited with the Lord. Since then, my mom, sister, and I have experienced severe adjustment. He was the sole provider of our family, so we have taken a financial and emotional hit in the past few months as we try to navigate our new lives. Starting college without the support of my father will not be easy, but I know I have his determination, kind heart, and fear of God to help me achieve all my goals. He knew I could be an inspiring teacher and believed in me more than I ever could myself, so it is with his pride that I will continue with my education to become the coach he knew I could be.

My name is Paige Colquhoun, and cancer is no stranger to me and my family. All four of my grandparents passed after their battles with cancer by the time I turned twelve years old. Dance has always been an outlet for me, and I've found myself more in love and passionate about dance after each family member I've lost, until this year, when my father was diagnosed with Leukemia on November 1st, 2024. Dancing made me anxious, as I thought about the time I should be spending with my father, how I could help my mother and the responsibilities I needed to take on to help pick up the slack. Dance was pointless when my world was spiraling out of control. I reassured myself this was just for a time, and I would find joy in dance like I had before, until December 10th, 2024. Though my father's battle was a short one, it sent me into complete shock. Dance was the one thing I thought would bring me joy since it hadn't failed in the past, but this time it left me feeling empty. For the first time in my life, nothing could bring me out of my mourning funk. Until the people around me stepped up in unimaginable ways. However, I quickly learned how different a real support system and self-serving support were. As a dancer, I've had two coaches to confide in as I've worked through the past few months of uncertainty. One has shown me love, compassion, and understanding by praying with me when I need peace of mind, taking time out of her day to attend my father's funeral, and leaving an open door whenever I need a break. However, the other has not made me feel comfortable taking breaks when needed, coming to her when I need someone to talk to, and not following up on her promise to be in attendance at my father's funeral. The differences in my coaches have shown me a clear distinction in the type of educator I want to be. I want students to be able to come to me in confidence, knowing they'll have someone willing and able to meet their needs during hardship. The grace, love, mercy, and compassion provided to me are what I want to emulate in the future, and I want to be conscious to not behave in a manner of empty promises for my students in the future. As I study Kinesiology with a focus on Education, I am going to motivate myself to be the most compassionate and understanding student, student teacher, and classmate during my time in college. I want my love of the Lord to be the first thing people notice about me and my teaching style. I want to use my time in college to learn how to be an impactful and supportive coach who can be there for her students with a sound mind to provide advice and prayer. However, I also want to be a welcoming and approachable confidante with an open mind and heart. Living through tragedy is no easy feat, and as someone who was cared for by one coach and neglected by another, I want to be the right kind of support system for my students in the future.

As a lifelong listener of Taylor Swift, choosing a favorite song from an arsenal of incredible imagery and storytelling tends to be quite a feat. Despite this, my favorite song from her fifth studio album, '1989', comes as an easy task. Though the intent was to relate "I Wish You Would" to a romantic relationship, this song resonates with me and the emotional turmoil I faced after the passing of my late grandmother. As the last of my grandparents showed signs of nearing the end of her life, I confided in music to help me express my feelings. At twelve years old, my obvious choice for music was more upbeat pop music to drown the inevitable elephant in the bedroom next door. "I Wish You Would" became a quick favorite of mine as I did homework, hosted friends, or even had solo dance parties in my bedroom. This song became my anthem and a personal favorite no matter the scenario. Even on the day my grandmother passed, I found my go-to song being from Taylor Swift's '1989' album. At the time, I just assumed the song was fun to listen to and had easy enough lyrics to understand. Several months later, I began to see the parallelisms in my experience with my grandmother and Taylor Swift and her previous partner. Both Swift and I had behaved in ways we regretted upon reflection and wished we could retract these actions to get the other person back. My grandmother had cancer, and, after many rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, was told the best she could do was make herself comfortable. This meant the once vibrant woman who I admired deeply would be moving into my home to make her deathbed. I was discouraged that she was dying, but I was angry more than I was devasted. In my prepubescent mind, a grown woman should not be taking time away from a mother and her daughter as she was relying on my mother more than I could. I acted out of frustration by not speaking to her, avoiding her in groups of people, and behaving irrationally when she extended a hand of kindness. Similar behavior to this can be seen in the first few verses of "I Wish You Would", when Swift sings, "You're thinking that I hate you now 'cause you still don't know what I never said,". We both made the other person feel unloved and hated when we were the ones who were so focused on our disdain for the other person. During the chorus of the song, Swift explains the reality of regret and wishing that the other person would come back. I take this deeply to heart, as I wish I had more time with my late grandmother and could apologize for the way I treated her in her final days. Regret is an icky and horrible feeling, but listening to this song helps me feel seen and comforted in knowing it's okay to wish you had treated others with more kindness than you did. As the master of putting feelings to music, Taylor Swift has helped me rationalize and forgive myself, making "I Wish You Would" my favorite song from her fifth studio album, '1989'.