Amongst the Crowd

Welcome bold and brilliant souls!

Welcome to the third post of the School Series: High School Edition. If you haven’t already, check out the first part — “In the Bubble” — and the second — “Easy Does It”. With schools across the country starting back up, it’s the perfect moment to revisit those school-day stories — full of lessons, late nights, awkward transitions, and those quiet, powerful realizations about who we are and who we want to become.

Because school isn’t just about textbooks and tests. It’s about growth — the kind that rarely makes the honor roll, but sticks with you long after the last bell rings.

In today’s world, life moves at lightning speed. Self-driving cars, AI breakthroughs, Gen Z shaking up the workplace with side hustles and emotional intelligence. Everything feels like it’s changing — fast. Junior year for me? It matched that energy perfectly: a little unhinged, a lot uncertain, and full of spontaneous decisions that somehow turned out okay.

One of those spontaneous decisions was to leave the Cross-Country team and return to my first love: swimming.

Growing up, I was a competitive swimmer — pool decks were my second home, the echo of cheers and splash of water my soundtrack. I loved it all. The thrill of the races. The rituals. The exhaustion that felt like victory. But once I got to high school, I had to make a choice: swim or run. At the time, I picked running — partly because I wanted to try something new, and partly because I believed that joining school-based activities would help me meet people and get involved. It did. Cross-Country was a highlight of my underclassman years.

But something about swimming stayed with me. Like a song stuck in your head long after the music ends. So going into Junior year, I made the call: I was diving back in.

Only, true to the chaotic spirit of the year, the pool situation immediately went sideways.

Our school’s swim team was a combined effort between my school and our rival school across town — one team, two schools. We used their pool, because it had official measurements and equipment. But of course, the year I joined, their pool was under construction. Which meant our practices got moved — not just to a different time, but to a different high school in the next town over.

Enter the first day of practice: I’m pumped, nervous, ready to make a splash — and I promptly lock my keys in my car.

After practice, soaked and tired, I realize I have no way of getting home. Total panic moment. Thankfully, a teammate — who barely knew me at the time — offered to drive me all the way back to my house to get my spare key, and then back again to retrieve my car.

That tiny act of kindness stuck with me.

Because Junior year, more than any other, taught me that you can’t go it alone. Even when you're trying to be independent. Even when you think you've got it under control. Whether it's a locked car or a tough exam or a late-night existential spiral, you need your people. And sometimes, your people surprise you — they're the ones who say yes when they don’t have to, who show up when you least expect it.

Treading Water

The lesson here is that we all make mistakes. Some big, some small. Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean you aren’t qualified, that you aren’t enough — it just means you’re human. That’s all. So take a deep breath. Remind yourself that everything will be okay. Then, pick yourself back up, and carry on.

As the swim season pushed forward, things were clicking into place. We were doing well at our meets, having fun during practices (even when it meant driving across town), and it felt like I had made the right decision to return to the pool. I found rhythm again. I remembered what I loved about swimming.

That is, until my shoulder gave out on me.

One day, I dove off the block like I had a thousand times before — but when I surfaced, I felt a sharp pain shoot through my shoulder. I tried to keep swimming, but something was off. It didn’t feel like soreness or just being tired. It was the kind of pain that makes your whole body clench.

After a trip to the doctor, I found out I had shoulder tendonitis — a repetitive use injury common in swimmers. They gave me stretches and strengthening exercises, told me to rest, and gave me the blueprint to heal.

But I didn’t listen. I was young. Stubborn. Busy. I thought I could just wait it out.

Turns out, ignoring your body only delays the inevitable. I dealt with that shoulder pain for the rest of high school — nearly a year and a half. It impacted more than just swimming. It showed up when I lifted a backpack, raised my hand in class, even when I tried to sleep. Eventually, I did the work — I strengthened the muscles, I took it seriously — but by then, the lesson had already been taught.

When your body speaks, listen. Whether it’s a twinge in your shoulder, burnout from school, or stress you’ve been trying to suppress — ignoring the signs doesn’t make them go away. Taking care of yourself, mentally and physically, is never weakness. It’s wisdom.

That lesson spilled over into academics too. Junior year was no joke. I had signed up for AP US History, Physics, and another challenging class (honestly, it was so hard I’ve probably repressed the name). I thought I could handle it all — after all, I’d always done well in school. But this time, it was different.

The pace, the pressure, the content — it piled up fast. I started drowning in assignments, barely treading water. I asked to drop AP USH early in the semester, but the superintendent initially said no. I remember feeling trapped, like I was failing for even wanting to lighten the load. Eventually, after a lot of persistence, I was allowed to drop the class.

And it made all the difference.

Sometimes, advocating for yourself feels like admitting defeat — but really, it’s the opposite. It’s courage. It’s choosing your well-being over the appearance of perfection. And that’s a skill that goes way beyond school.

My advice? Be honest about your limits. Challenge yourself, yes — but don’t burn out trying to be everything at once. Pick your battles. Balance your course load with your extracurriculars, your social life, your mental health. School is a marathon, not a sprint. You don’t have to prove your worth through exhaustion.

That said, some of the best moments of the year came through the opportunities I did say yes to. One of my favorite volunteering experiences was through Student Government: a trip to Feed My Starving Children (FMSC).

It was a weekday evening — nothing fancy, just a few hours, a carpool, and a warehouse with a mission. Our group got split into smaller teams, each with a job. One person opened the bags, a couple of us filled them with ingredients, another weighed and sealed. It was kind of chaotic — assembly line energy, loud music, everyone cheering each other on. We raced to see who could fill the most bags. We didn’t win. But that wasn’t the point.

At the end, someone stood up and told us how many meals we had packed — how many children we had helped feed across the world. I remember standing there, still in my hairnet, heart full. It reminded me that even small actions, when done with others, can make a massive impact.

All in all, Junior year was an interesting one — a mix of spontaneous decisions, small setbacks, unexpected detours, and a whole lot of learning. It taught me that even when things don’t go exactly as planned (locked car doors, overcommitted class schedules, surprise injuries), there’s still beauty to be found in the process.

But if there’s one thing that stood out the most, one thing that quietly reshaped my perspective more than any textbook or practice set could — it was volunteering.

There’s something profoundly grounding about giving your time to others. Whether I was standing in a hairnet at Feed My Starving Children or serving meals at a soup kitchen in Chicago, I felt connected — not just to the people I was helping, but to something bigger than myself. I realized how powerful it is to listen, to show up, and to learn from others whose life stories are different from my own.

Volunteering reminded me that life isn’t just about chasing achievements or grades or goals — it’s about impact. It’s about empathy. It’s about choosing to be present, even when it’s uncomfortable, and letting that discomfort teach you something.

If you’re ever hesitant to try something new — whether it’s a club, a cause, a class, or a conversation — take the leap. Your world just might get a little bigger.

As Junior year came to a close, I felt like I was finally stepping into my own — stronger, more aware, more curious. I didn’t have it all figured out (spoiler: I still don’t), but I was learning how to listen to myself, how to balance my time, how to move through the chaos with a little more grace. And that, in itself, felt like a win.

Next up? Senior year. The final chapter of high school. The beginning of the end — and the end of the beginning.

Let’s dive in.

As a signature of my blog, I like to end each post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness”. There is no such time as the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!

***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***