The blur of high school is a solution saturated with memories, good and bad. While the unpleasant and unsavory memories often leave the most lasting impressions, this column is an affirmation of the treasured experiences of high school–the ones that I hope to never forget.
I jumped into clubs and organizations in my freshman year, an enthusiastic underclassman with a yearning to be part of something bigger than myself. I found myself enthused by books and writing and fully committed to the Girls Varsity Tennis team. I listened to my teachers’ lectures with wide eyes, and, filling out my four-year plan, I thought to myself: I know where I belong.
How surprised I’d be by where I am today!
The Arcadia Quill was one such surprise; being one of two freshmen in the Quill classroom, I was too shy to embrace the assertive nature of journalism. Standing alone, afraid, and utterly clueless at a Frosh/Soph Volleyball game, I had already decided that my first article would be my last.
Obviously, it wasn’t. It wasn’t easy, but I stuck with The Quill, learning to enjoy journalism enough to continue all four years. Through the anxiety-filled events and difficult phases of writers’ block, I discovered my grit and ability to embrace the uncomfortable, finding joy in the interviews that I once dreaded. I discovered a new side of my community through The Quill, and this was an invaluable revelation for me.
That sense of belonging in a community was what drove me to become the Arcadia High School student I am today. Having had a taste of real life experiences, insights, and knowledge from the stories of my interview subjects, I decided I wanted to make some memories for myself.
I found myself at random volunteering events: at Arcadia’s downtown festivals, in the hospital, and at afterschool events with clubs and committees. These memories bring a smile to my face, even on the most difficult days; community service and connection has become part of the person I am, and who I want to be in the future.
Academically speaking, I was never the overachiever that my parents still insist I am. Rather, I’ve come to see myself as persistent and passionate about the subjects I adore. I can’t conclude this senior column without mentioning sports medicine, which has easily become the most fulfilling and challenging class I’ve yet to take. The sports medicine team–my friends–is the encouraging and supportive environment that I always wanted and needed; they’ve made my high school experience the kind that I will forever treasure.
I believe that without struggle, there is no fulfillment. Over the course of four years, I’ve realized that my biggest obstacle has always been my own doubt, dragging me down. Hence, I leave you, reader, with the unoriginal, but irrefutable truth: you can do anything you set your mind to.
