Being a kid is one of the scariest things we go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing while expectations pile up faster than you can process them. Before I was ten, I was expected to read and write fluently, navigate friendships, take standardized tests, learn two additional languages, and even question my religious beliefs at just six years old. By fourteen, the pressure only intensified: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, and somehow decide your entire future. Admitting that I don’t drive, don’t have a job, and don’t know how to “get ahead” in college often feels like admitting failure. When your goals don’t align with what’s considered “secure,” the response is usually discouragement. I’ve always been drawn to careers in the arts, education, and childcare—paths often labeled as impractical. I understand my parents’ concerns; they grew up with far less and struggled financially. Other adults echo the same warning: “You’ll be poor, so choose something else.” Even teachers I admire have laughed when I said I wanted to teach. Seeing people feel trapped in careers they once loved has made me afraid of losing purpose, so I’ve tried to pivot, even when it doesn’t feel right. Still, I can’t let go of the idea of helping others learn and grow. Though my faith has wavered, I still believe there’s a plan for me—and this feels like it. I’ve changed what I want to study, but not who I want to become. I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means deciding which voices to listen to and having the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring it out, but I know I want a future that reflects who I am, not just what others expect

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always gravitated toward careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Being a kid is one of the scariest things we all go through. Your body and mind are constantly changing, and at the same time, the world throws expectations at you faster than you can keep up. Before the age of ten, you're expected to read and write fluently, make friends, navigate social rules, and take standardized tests that might hold you back. For me, all of this came alongside learning two additional languages and changing my religious beliefs at the age of six. By the time you hit fourteen, the expectations only grow: learn to drive, get a job, prepare for college, get into college, and somehow decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. And if what you want doesn’t align with what’s considered "secure," you're often met with silence—or worse, discouragement. Telling people I don't drive, don't have a job, and don’t have a single clue about how to “get ahead” in college feels like admitting failure. I’ve always been drawn to careers in the arts, education, and childcare. Unfortunately, those careers have been labeled as the “wrong path” for me. I understand why my parents feel this way. Both of them grew up with much less than I have, and even then, they were living paycheck to paycheck. Other adults in my life, with good intentions, give me the same talk: “You’re going to be poor, so pick something else.” Even teachers—people whose jobs I admire—have laughed when I’ve said I wanted to teach. I assumed they were in it for the passion and the love of learning, and while some are, many just feel stuck. I don’t want to feel stuck, so I’ve tried to pivot to something I still enjoy.. It’s hard not to feel like dreams are only valid if they come with a high paycheck. Still, I’ve never stopped imagining myself helping others learn, grow, and discover their potential. There’s always that saying that “god has a plan for all of us,” and even as I've wavered in my faith as I've grown up, I still believe that if he did have this would be it. I’ve changed what I wanted to learn because of others’ opinions, but not who I want to become. I’m not naive about the challenges that come with a path in education or the arts, but I value purpose over prestige. Growing up means learning how to navigate pressure, deciding which voices to listen to, and finding the courage to follow your own. I’m still figuring that out, but I know this much: I want to build a future that reflects who I am, not just who others expect me to be. And if that means breaking away from what’s “normal” or “practical,” then that’s exactly what I plan to do.