My photos may not seem related at first glance, but I believe they all represent something unexpected, a small twist on an otherwise unremarkable photograph that makes it unique. My first photograph is of my mother holding out her glasses in front of her after using our sprinkler. I chose this photo because it looks like dew has formed on her glasses, and they are framed perfectly in front of her eyes. I find this image quite humorous because it makes my mom's glasses look oversized. The second photo is of my sister singing a song while she's swinging. I wanted to capture the movement of her swing and her facial expressions but ended up capturing something else: her hair. In the moment where her hair enters the shaft of late afternoon sun, it seems to catch on fire and resembles a halo around her. It accentuates her emotion and the brightness of her hair contrasts nicely with the shade. I took my next photograph in the woods, and I like it because it's not just an ordinary picture of a plant but represents conflict: the plant seems to be struggling against the thick cobwebs that are holding it back. The way that the plant is bent back suggests tension, potential energy that makes this photograph suspenseful. In my fourth photograph, I tried playing with perspective and framing. I have a glass cabinet at home with crystal goblets in it. The cabinet is mirrored in the back and creates the impression of a long line of goblets. I liked the way that this seemed to create a shining glass forest, with the stems of the goblets resembling tree trunks. My final photo is a silhouette of crows that I took on an overcast day in late fall. I chose this photo because it creates a distinctly spooky, eerie mood. The lighting causes branches and crows alike to flatten, to become cut-outs of themselves. I like this picture because it says more with less; devoid of color and depth, the photograph becomes muted, frozen, completely still. Through my photographs, I tried to see familiar things in a new light, a new angle, a new perspective. The ordinary becomes peculiar, amusing, jumps out in an unusual way. I hope to convey a sense of surprise or contemplation through my photos.

Faces in profile, from the front, in ¾ view. Hands in interesting positions. Eyes—one eye, a pair, angry, sad, tired, happy. Since a young age, my drawings have focused almost exclusively on these subjects. In elementary school, I drew my classmates’ faces in profile. I had an interest in minutiae—a tiny plant growing between pebbles, empty snail shells, small purple flowers. I would build “sculptures” out of twigs and pine needles, balancing or fitting them together to make a structure that would stand up. When I was thirteen, I received a little magnifying glass which allowed me to see objects in 4x magnification. On family hikes, I would borrow my mom’s phone, stick the magnifying glass to its camera lens, and take pictures of flowers or moss covered with little droplets of dew. Towards the beginning of high school, I took to doodling eyes in the margins of my notebooks. Depending on the level of boredom/free time I experienced in each class, I could draw anywhere from a few to a dozen eyes per page. I always received sketchbooks on my birthday because people knew I was “artistic,” to the point that I had to ask them not to buy me any more. However, my sketches were often skeletal or half-finished—I open my sketchbooks now and find a nose with a pair of lips or eyes, or a few fingers of a hand, almost always minutiae and extremely realistic. My books were like collages or studies: an image, a moment captured and then dropped. A few years ago, I realized that I can reproduce exactly what I see. For a while I thought it was normal, that everyone could do it if they just applied themselves. My mother had a similar experience growing up. As a violinist, she developed perfect pitch, but it wasn’t until high school that she realized that others couldn’t do the same. For her, hearing a note was like identifying a color—wasn’t that something that everyone could do? I’m just starting to realize that all those sketchbooks of noses and eyes and images have trained me to be able to reproduce exactly what I see, like a visual version of perfect pitch. Two years ago, a family I know well asked me to do a family portrait. I was initially reluctant but I accepted—and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I made. I had an objective, a purpose. I took a couple months to finish the drawing, working meticulously in moments of free time, and I finished it proud of what I had accomplished. Our friends hang it still in a picture frame in their house. Then, this school year, I decided to take an “independent study” class in 2D art to work on my drawing skills. I drew a portrait of my 12-year old sister which took me six weeks. Every day, I worked slowly but steadily towards completion, entering a state of deep focus. That one hour every day became special, a time where I could develop patience and technical skills as I honed my craft. And it paid off, too: in my county’s high school art competition, I won three awards including First Place and Best in Show, which surprised me and enabled me to gain confidence in my work. My experience growing up has provided me with a solid base from which I can extend into new, uncharted areas. This is why I intend to pursue art in college. I want to push my limits and to see how far I can go.

Last year, I took a dual enrollment class called “Philosophy and Film.” After watching Inception, The Matrix, and a really bizarre film called eXistenZ, my teacher asked: “Do you think it is possible to definitively distinguish between virtual reality and the real world, between dreaming and waking life?” I started overanalyzing. All of these movies involved levels within levels of reality. In Inception, there are several dream levels that go deeper and deeper into the characters’ subconscious. But we also never really knew whether the characters were in reality or illusion. There were personal “tokens” that only work in the real world, but the main character broke his own rule because he used his deceased wife’s token. So, the entire movie could have been a dream. In eXistenZ, this went even further—the characters literally acquired fake memories and identities! This blew my mind: what if I’m in a dream right now??? Aghh! I could just be a “brain in a vat,” being fed information that it deciphers as sound, touch, hearing, smell, taste. Maybe I was just a computer algorithm convinced that it was alive! Even my friends and family could just be algorithms like me (an increasing possibility, considering how good AI has become). But reality feels so, well, real. It still seems impossible that a simulation or a dream could capture the level of detail that we experience every second of our lives. But we could be living far in the future where technology has improved exponentially… I had entered the point of no return in a black hole: that’s how bad my spiraling existential crisis became. So, I decided to ask my siblings what their take was on this whole question—“Is there a way to prove that we are living in real life and not an illusion?” And my twelve-year-old sister gave an answer that I will never forget: “No, because I had a dream one time that I went to the bathroom, and I peed in my pants in real life.” There you go. She solved it. All of my anxiety vanished when I heard such a simple, such a concisely and clearly put sentence. It was basically the new answer to “life, the universe, and everything”. So I slept like a baby that night, all my fears assuaged, comforted in the knowledge that the world around me could be completely fake and that every time I go to the bathroom, there’s a chance that I’ll wake up in actual reality having wet my bed.

I have spent much of my education within the French system, and to tell my story I have to explain this: after the first year of high school in France, students must choose two classes they focus on the most during high school (similar to majors). Because I liked all my classes, I really felt stuck and I didn’t know which ones to choose. One of the specialties was called “history-geography, geopolitics and political science”. Before high school, I had been interested in politics and loved having discussions (okay, sometimes arguments) with people of different political leanings, so I thought, why not, I’ll try it. I had no idea what I was getting into, but I decided to go for it anyways. It was probably the best decision I’ve ever made in high school. Let me tell you something about my teacher in that class, Mr. Breton: he was old, he was grumpy, he was strict, but he was incredibly knowledgeable. Before him, I had never thought to question the system. I hadn’t thought about how countries’ politics influence their education, how biases could enter the way that history was taught. Mr. Breton, though, completely changed how I saw history. The way that he taught was not to sugarcoat anything whatsoever. He criticized many countries, including his own, for not living up to their own standards. If an international treaty failed to get anything done, he would say so. He called out politicians’ hypocrisy and especially criticized the US for its failings. As an American, I felt a little defensive at that, but I came to understand that American policies from the French point of view cast a much harsher (and maybe truer) light on the US. In that class, I learned about the US’s foreign policy and how our stated intentions (expanding democracy, protecting the free world) were often contradicted by our actions (for example, overthrowing democratically elected leaders in some countries, and instead putting in a dictator loyal to US interests). I also learned about our country’s conflicted relationship with the environment. Environmental activists like John Muir in the 19th century led to the creation of national parks. But these parks excluded Indigenous people who had already lived there for thousands of years… Or how after World War II, pesticide use increased dramatically, harming the health of thousands of Americans as well as wildlife. And even today, where arguably there is the highest awareness of climate change ever, the US has prioritized fracking and fossil fuel production instead of renewable energies. One of the abilities that teachers often praise is “critical thinking”. I had never really known what this meant until this class, until this teacher. Thanks to him, I’m now much more skeptical when I read a politician’s promises, or the terms of an international agreement. I think twice before believing something that a country says they’ll do, and instead I look at their actions. Looking back on that year, I realize that I needed to be exposed to different perspectives. I needed a viewpoint—like my teacher’s—that jolted me to reality. This helped me to understand that our system, our world is flawed. It is dysfunctional. But it’s also all we’ve got. And it’s up to us—the new generation—to help, to try to fix it however we can. And each and every one of us can make a difference, no matter how small our individual contributions may seem, because these collective efforts can grow into a movement that can change the world.

Thank you so much to the Herich Family for creating this amazing scholarship opportunity. I hope that my scholarship application can continue, in its meager way, to honor Ryan’s legacy and spirit. To begin, I’ll tell you a bit about myself. I am Canadian American and for ten years, I have spent half of my time in the US and half in France. This has divided each year in two: I would start school in August in the US, then go to France in December and finish the school year there. Learning within two educational systems has enabled me to gain a deeper understanding of the political and cultural differences between the two systems, as well as how they teach history and politics. But here’s the interesting part: my passion for political science more specifically didn’t start until my second year of high school in France. Before high school, I had been interested in politics and loved having discussions (okay, sometimes arguments) with people of different political leanings. But I hadn’t thought to question the system. I hadn’t really thought about how countries’ politics influence their education, how biases could enter the way that history was taught. For example, my political science teacher in France was very influential. He was incredibly knowledgeable and he criticized many countries, including his own, for not living up to their own standards. The way that he taught history was not to sugarcoat anything whatsoever. If an international treaty failed to really get anything done, he would say so. He called out politicians’ hypocrisy and especially criticized the US for its failings. As an American, I felt a little defensive but I came to understand that American policies from the French point of view cast a much harsher (and maybe truer) light on the US. In that class, I learned about the US’s foreign policy and how our stated intentions (expanding democracy, protecting the free world) were often contradicted by our actions (for example, overthrowing democratically elected leaders in some countries, and instead putting in a dictator loyal to US interests). I also learned about our country’s conflicted relationship with the environment. Environmental activists like John Muir in the 19th century led to the creation of national parks. But these parks excluded Indigenous people who had already lived there for thousands of years… Or how after World War II, pesticide use increased dramatically, harming the health of thousands of Americans as well as wildlife. And even today, where arguably there is the highest awareness of climate change ever, the US has prioritized fracking and fossil fuel production instead of renewable energies. Even though I gained a solid knowledge of history and international relations, this class made me pessimistic. Because my teacher constantly listed failures, it was difficult for me to see good—difficult for me to imagine a better future. But darkness must always be nuanced with light. Sure, the world may be deeply flawed, there may be seemingly unsolvable problems with our current political system, but defeatism will get us nowhere. I realized that it’s up to us to make a difference, to look at history and learn from it instead of making the same mistakes. If there’s anything the past can tell us, it’s that the future can be better. This is why I intend to study political science along with other disciplines like environmental studies, so that I can make good decisions by using the lessons learned from the past to guide me.

Faces in profile, from the front, in ¾ view. Hands in interesting positions. Eyes—one eye, a pair, angry, sad, tired, happy. Since a young age, my drawings have focused almost exclusively on these subjects. In elementary school, I drew my classmates’ faces in profile. I had an interest in minutiae—a tiny plant growing between pebbles, empty snail shells, small purple flowers. I would build “sculptures” out of twigs and pine needles, balancing or fitting them together to make a structure that would stand up. When I was thirteen, I received a little magnifying glass which allowed me to see objects in 4x magnification. On family hikes, I would borrow my mom’s phone, stick the magnifying glass to its camera lens, and take pictures of flowers or moss covered with little droplets of dew. Towards the beginning of high school, I took to doodling eyes in the margins of my notebooks. Depending on the level of boredom/free time I experienced in each class, I could draw anywhere from a few to a dozen eyes per page. I always received sketchbooks on my birthday because people knew I was “artistic,” to the point that I had to ask them not to buy me any more. However, my sketches were often skeletal or half-finished—I open my sketchbooks now and find a nose with a pair of lips or eyes, or a few fingers of a hand, almost always minutiae and extremely realistic. My books were like collages or studies: an image, a moment captured and then dropped. A few years ago, I realized that I can reproduce exactly what I see. For a while I thought it was normal, that everyone could do it if they just applied themselves. My mother had a similar experience growing up. As a violinist, she developed perfect pitch, but it wasn’t until high school that she realized that others couldn’t do the same. For her, hearing a note was like identifying a color—wasn’t that something that everyone could do? I’m just starting to realize that all those sketchbooks of noses and eyes and images have trained me to be able to reproduce exactly what I see, like a visual version of perfect pitch. Two years ago, a family I know well asked me to do a family portrait. I was initially reluctant but I accepted—and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I made. I had an objective, a purpose. I took a couple months to finish the drawing, working meticulously in moments of free time, and I finished it proud of what I had accomplished. Our friends hang it still in a picture frame in their house. Then, this school year, I decided to take an “independent study” class in 2D art to work on my drawing skills. I drew a portrait of my 12-year old sister which took me six weeks. Every day, I worked slowly but steadily towards completion, entering a state of deep focus. That one hour every day became special, a time where I could develop patience and technical skills as I honed my craft. And it paid off, too: in my county’s high school art competition, I won three awards including First Place and Best of Show, which surprised me and enabled me to gain confidence in my work. My experience growing up has provided me with a solid base from which I can extend into new, uncharted areas. This is why I intend to pursue art in college. I want to push my limits and to see how far I can go.

Green energy is booming—and as the world reckons with the consequences of climate change, renewable energy is necessary to ensure a sustainable future. Wind and solar power, hydropower, and geothermal energy can all contribute in different ways to help the world transition away from fossil fuels. But are these sources enough to satisfy world energy demands? Some may argue that we still need fossil fuels to provide stability, as some renewable energy sources are only intermittently reliable—for example, wind and solar energy are both weather-dependent. However, the biggest reason that fossil fuels are still so prominent and convenient is not because renewable energy sources are insufficient or because their technologies are underdeveloped. It is because traditional energy sources are deeply integrated into our modern societies and infrastructure. Thus, a sustainable energy solution should be focused on increasing the production of renewable energy as much as possible, while also allowing the use of fossil fuels as a last resort during the transition to a more ecologically responsible future. A variety of renewable energy sources can be mobilized and adapted for various situations. For example, places with a lot of wind or sun could use solar and wind power. Hydropower via dams or tidal generators works for areas with abundant rivers or coastlines. One renewable energy source is consistent and can be implemented in many different locations: geothermal energy. Moreover, it requires a far smaller amount of land than solar and wind power to produce the same amount of energy. There are downsides, however, to some renewable energy sources. Solar panels require a vast surface area, and the components used to build the panels themselves (like silicon and silver) can have negative impacts on the planet—from environmental degradation to fossil fuels used to power the mining machines. Wind energy can harm bird populations—every year in the US, hundreds of thousands of birds are killed by wind turbines. Hydropower plants, while incredibly efficient, can disrupt ecosystems by changing the flow of water, which has an adverse impact on wildlife. Even geothermal energy has the potential to destabilize the ground where its energy facilities are installed. However, these disadvantages pale in comparison to the damage wrought by traditional energy sources. Renewable energy’s greatest asset is that it produces no carbon dioxide and therefore will not further climate change. Renewable energy can be a huge step towards stopping the climate crisis and protecting our planet. For now, using traditional energy sources for certain specific needs, such as airplanes, is unavoidable—there is currently a lack of infrastructure and technology to power airplanes on renewable energy. It is reasonable to say that the world needs some time to transition away from fossil fuels entirely. However, our focus should not be on how to perfectly balance traditional and renewable energy sources, but rather how to best implement green energy as fast as possible, in as many sectors of life as possible. Using fossil fuels should be regarded as a last resort, not a priority. Therefore, governments should subsidize renewables rather than fossil fuels and incentivize innovation in green energy to further increase its efficiency and reduce its price. In conclusion, a rapid transition to renewable energy is not an impossible task. For example, Norway’s energy production is currently 99% from renewables, mostly from hydropower. It shows that each country can adapt to its specific geography thanks to the diversity of renewable energy sources. Thus, transitioning to green energy is not only possible but achievable if it is made a true priority.

Extract from chapter 1 of Voltaire’s Candide, paragraphs 4 and 5 (English translation): Pangloss was professor of metaphysico-theologico-cosmolo-nigology. He proved admirably that there is no effect without a cause, and that, in this best of all possible worlds, the Baron's castle was the most magnificent of castles, and his lady the best of all possible Baronesses. "It is demonstrable," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for all being created for an end, all is necessarily for the best end. Observe, that the nose has been formed to bear spectacles—thus we have spectacles. Legs are visibly designed for stockings—and we have stockings. Stones were made to be hewn, and to construct castles—therefore my lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Pigs were made to be eaten—therefore we eat pork all the year round. Consequently they who assert that all is well have said a foolish thing, they should have said all is for the best." This text is an extract of the 1759 philosophical tale Candide, ou l’Optimisme by the French philosopher Voltaire, often translated simply as Candide in English. This particular extract is from the first chapter of the book, in which the titular character, a bastard son of a baroness, grows up in the province of Westphalia in Germany, and is educated in Leibnizian philosophy by a professor named Pangloss. The Baron employs him to be “the oracle of the family” and to teach Candide. Voltaire’s novella is a sort of bildungsroman which follows Candide’s many misadventures and his gradual evolution from naïve optimist to disillusioned practicalist. It was written to counter Leibniz, a German philosopher who defended optimism, arguing that that we live in the best possible world and that everything that happens happens not only for a reason but for the best. Candide is also a product of Voltaire’s disillusionment with the idea of perpetual optimism, after the Seven Years’ War and the Lisbon Earthquake in 1755, events which resulted in catastrophic suffering and loss of life, hard to reconcile with Leibniz’s ideas. In this extract, seemingly the beginning of a comical tale devoid of depth, Voltaire criticizes Leibniz’s philosophy through ridicule and hyperbole. He aims to delegitimize the philosophy of optimism using various techniques and by painting its proponents as idiotic and disconnected from reality. This ridicule is evident in the very first sentence of this extract. “Pangloss” is the name of Candide’s philosophy professor. It is composed of the Greek words “pan” and “gloss,” which mean “all” and “language,” respectively. This suggests that Pangloss masters languages very well; he is very eloquent; he talks about everything and knows all languages. This initial portrayal seems to paint Pangloss as something positive, a scholar who has a lot of knowledge. However, it is immediately contradicted in the next phrase mentioning Pangloass as a professor of “metaphysico-theolologico-cosmolonigology.” This word is ridiculous because of its length. It also makes fun of German words, which are often composites and can be incredibly long and complex. Thus, Voltaire is indirectly making fun of Leibniz, who is German. This composite word can be broken down into four different parts. The first is “metaphysico”, which refers to metaphysics—the spiritual realm, essentially anything that is not physical. “Theologo” refers to theology, which is the study of religion. “Cosmolo” refers to the cosmos—the world, the universe…basically everything. The last part is “nigology,” which can be further split into two parts: “nigo” and “logy.” In French, “nigo” would be pronounced exactly the same as the word “nigaud” which means “fool”—thus Pangloss practices the science of fools. Even through a single word, Voltaire parodies philosophical knowledge by presenting is as incredibly complex but also empty and devoid of meaning, because it’s the science of fools (“nigology”). This word reverses Pangloss’s quality as a scholar and shows that he talks about everything and nothing at the same time. This mockery delegitimizes Pangloss and the philosophy he represents, and accordingly the next sentence takes on a sarcastic tone (with, for example, the phrase “he proved admirably that there is no effect without a cause”). Furthermore, the hyperbole “best of all possible worlds” exaggerates Leibniz’s philosophy. The enumeration of similar hyperboles (“the most magnificent of all castles”, “the best of all Baronesses”) makes his speech seem even more ridiculous. This sentence also shows that Pangloss is a flatterer, and it introduces doubt as to whether Pangloss is actually sincere or if he is just saying those things about the Baron to please his employer. The next section of the text focuses on Pangloss’s speech, which proves, again, to be a way to make fun of Leibniz’s philosophy—first of all, because Pangloss presents his opinion as fact that can be proven through logical reasoning. He says, “it is demonstrable […] that things cannot be otherwise than as they are”, but then his examples that he lists as proof of this idea are ridiculous and clearly wrong. He says, “observe, that the nose has been formed to bear spectacles—thus we have spectacles.” He uses the same reasoning for legs and stockings, stones and castles, pigs and pork. While his sentences are grammatically correct, using logical connecting words like “observe, that” and “thus”, his logic is backwards: spectacles are made to go on the nose, obviously, not the other way around. Words like “visibly” or “observe that”, followed by his illogical conclusions, accentuate the absurdity of his speech. Thus, Voltaire criticizes Leibniz’s optimist philosophy by exposing its convoluted and illogical logic—which is making “observations” that are actually judgements and using the fact that the world exists as proof that it’s the best possible world. Furthermore, Voltaire makes a comical jab at Pangloss’s flattery which disguises the true condition that the characters live in. Pangloss says “my lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged.” However, the characters live in a province called Westphalia in Germany, known as one of the poorest in the country. The title of “greatest baron” of Westphalia, Germany isn’t exactly glamorous. (And earlier on in the chapter, his castle is described as being great because it “had not only a gate, but windows”.) Pangloss also says, “we eat pork all the year round”, a fact which is not impressive but actually significative of the characters’ poverty, because nobles at the time ate varied kinds of meat like pheasant or venison. This phrase implies that pork is all that the baron and his family eat—it’s all that they can afford to eat, not having the means to obtain different foods. Thus, Voltaire yet again reinforces the image of Pangloss as being shallow, because his supposed philosophical reasoning always leads him to conclude that his employer is the best baron that ever existed in the province of Westphalia. In summary, this extract of Voltaire’s Candide is unquestionably comical; however, further analysis reveals a deeper layer of meaning within the text, which is a scathing critique of Leibniz’s optimist philosophy. Voltaire criticizes optimism through the character Pangloss, a caricature of a philosopher so wrapped up in his own distorted logic that he loses touch completely with objective reality. The description of Pangloss’s profession and character as well as the direct speech showing his warped logic both work together to discredit his philosophy by making the character absurd. Pangloss’s knowledge is a false knowledge; it’s pedantry masquerading as philosophy. Repeated hyperboles increase Pangloss’s caricatural nature and further serve to undermine his ideas. However, these literary devices in addition to the overall satirical tone of the text, also contribute to a comedic effect—they make the reader smile or laugh. Ultimately, this text is a perfect example of what comedy can do: it can entertain while also criticizing and it’s an intuitive way for the audience to empathize with the author’s point of view. This extract also shows that comical texts are not simply farces; they often have hidden meanings and messages that are rendered more impactful when viewed through a lighthearted lens.

When I was in fifth grade, I saw a photograph of a starving polar bear. That image still haunts me because it was the first time that I realized that humanity’s actions have far-reaching consequences. Since then, I have been conscious of how my actions contribute to climate change, which is driving much of the extinction of the earth’s life. Take clothes: when I see a brand-new T-shirt at a clothing store, I can’t help but think about how much water, energy, and pesticides were used, all for something that may be discarded next season. Thankfully, my family has taught me how to avoid contributing to such a wasteful industry by buying clothes exclusively at thrift stores and by refashioning outdated or oversized clothes into something new. Buying used clothing is just one example of the many eco-conscious decisions my family has taught me to make. My mother sewed cloth diapers that were used for all four of us children, then passed them along to another family when we grew out of them. Our childhood toys, still in good condition to this day, were made of wood instead of plastic and were often handmade. At home, we compost our organic household waste, preventing it from reaching landfills and enriching our garden with essential nutrients. We insulated our house, replaced the 1940s boiler with a high-efficiency model, and installed storm windows, helping to make our house more energy-efficient. I kept these eco-friendly values as I grew up. I bike 4 miles round-trip to my high school every day instead of driving a car. I am one of two students out of my 700-strong high school who bikes to school. The other is my brother. I pack a lunch with reusable containers instead of eating school lunch. I always check the labels on food packages to see if I can recycle them. Recently, my parents bought an electric car to eliminate our dependence on gasoline. This represented a step in the right direction. But it wasn’t enough. I proposed installing solar panels on my family’s roof so that our electricity would be entirely green, but the cost was too prohibitive for our family’s budget. I encourage my family to buy organic foods whenever possible, knowing that organic farming is better for our health and for the environment. My parents still prioritize buying less expensive foods–although almost always home-cooked–in part because we are a family of 6 and have to live frugally. My family has taught me many important lessons about living sustainably. But our economic needs have often superseded sustainable practices. Once I go to college, I want to go further towards minimizing my carbon footprint: avoid having a car at all, and either grow or buy local and organic food. I also recognize that there is only so much we as individuals can do; after all, the system that we live within is designed for consumerism with disregard for the environmental consequences. It’s hard not to drive, hard not to buy more products, when our society is built around those behaviors. Climate change, pollution, and extinction are consequences of a society that prizes material possessions and unending economic growth above all else. It’s easy to lose hope because “what I do won’t make a difference anyway.” But that is the exact attitude that leads to destruction. Ordinary citizens have immense power to increase awareness, provoke meaningful change within a society, and enact legislative changes to ensure that we are living sustainably. Reducing our personal carbon footprint is a first step towards creating a better, more responsible and more sustainable world.