I have never known exactly what I wanted to do with my life. From kindergarten until junior year, I answered, “I’ll figure it out later,” to any question regarding college or careers — scary decisions to make far in the future. 

This indecision became a problem in high school as the first lines of “No Such Thing” by John Mayer perfectly explain: “Welcome to the real world / She said to me, condescendingly / Take a seat, take your life / Plot it out in black and white.”

With no direction or goals other than getting straight A’s, I struggled with motivation. Instead of taking a computer science elective like originally planned, I was stuck with Intro to Journalism — a better choice for me than the only alternatives of Dance and Choir (and very helpful in hindsight) — due to paperwork issues that delayed my enrollment. Then, I showed up to the first day of high school cross country and realized that I missed all of summer conditioning. Oops. The higher mileage, practices six days a week and monstrous hills did not increase my love of the sport — I just wanted to complete Sports PE. 

Throughout the year, I mused often about quitting sports (much to the chagrin of my coach), grumbled about classes and generally didn’t like school, as usual. In hindsight, I realize that my problem was a lack of passion. However, passion is not something that can be stumbled upon or spontaneously found. As I recently learned from a wonderful Instagram reel, passion is developed, not discovered. 

What I remember best is not the easy three-mile loops around the neighborhood. It is the grueling Quicksilver runs, 6 a.m. practices, lactic acid-inducing races, random Saturday half-marathons and workouts in torrential rain. It is watching sunrises mid-run with friends, climbing thousands of feet up muddy and rainy fire trails, nearly getting caught by dogs, reaching euphoric runner’s highs that stick with me. Even struggling through injuries and cross-training for multiple months in senior year, I’ve continued to persist with running.

By running with dedication, I built a passion for it that will last for life, or as long as I am physically able to run. Sure, the secret runs to get food with teammates and occasionally slack off were fun, but getting through the mentally and physically demanding days produced positive change in myself. 

The same held true for journalism. In sophomore year, I wrote the bare minimum amount of stories to keep an A, and although my first print story about fruit waste landed on the front page of the newspaper, sparked change and eventually became the topic of my personal statement, I wasn’t very enthusiastic. Even so, I applied for an editor position to make my college applications look better. 

However, my mindset completely shifted the next year. With new responsibilities as an editor, I became more confident and involved. I found my voice within the newsroom by helping with layout and copy editing during late-night, last-minute crunch sessions, where my contributions felt helpful and needed. Covering events and writing stories became a way to manage burnout and procrastination, giving me a productive outlet and enabling me to balance my regular work as well. When AP season came around, I approached academics and studying with a newfound confidence that carried me through the rest of the school year. 

In short, the Bear Witness community gave me purpose. Throwing myself into reporting and editing — work worth more than a few points in the gradebook that could be read and shared — was the only way to discover that I truly enjoy this work and find it meaningful. This past year as managing editor, I’ve continued to put my all into the newspaper, launching a new website, creating internal tools and pushing to hold the district and school accountable through reporting about topics like SchoolAI, recycling, gender-neutral bathrooms and vape detectors.

The defining event of my senior year was covering Branham’s ‘human swastika’ incident that drew international attention: our articles reached over 100,000 combined views on social media, which wasn’t entirely positive —- vulgar hate comments and GIFs appeared on Bear Witness posts that I had to view and delete. Additionally, censorship and pressure on Bear Witness presented ethical issues and created emotional strain as we felt personal responsibility to fix any issues that could impact our school but didn’t quite know how.

Through it all, I hope that positive change has resulted from my work and persistence in following my curiosity, looking deeper and continuing to question those in power: “They love to tell you / Stay inside the lines / But something’s better / On the other side.” 

The passions that I’ve developed throughout high school will last a lifetime, I hope. And even though I still don’t know exactly what I want to do with my life, I am confident that I’ll continue developing new passions and approaching life with a sense of optimism that’s hard to fully express. Mayer puts it best: “I just can’t wait ’til my ten year reunion / I’m gonna bust down the double doors / And when I stand on these tables before you / You will know what all this time was for.”