It’s easy to wear apathy like a shield in high school. We show it with our sweatpants and hoodies, our late passes and eye rolls. While I complain about homework as much as the next person, the best piece of advice I can give from my teenage years is to never stop caring.
It is so comfortable to not care. The very act of liking something, or someone, or anything at all, opens you up to criticism and failure. I remember not making varsity, not landing my jazz band audition, absolutely bombing my first math test in freshman year. In every single one of those instances, I wanted to give up and shrivel away, never looking at my field hockey stick or saxophone or disappointed teacher again.
And yet, I didn’t hide in my room. Obviously. I kept showing up, despite being a bit battered and bruised. Every single one of those bumps helped me develop something more important than grades or positions: persistence. Failure was a detour—annoying, time-consuming and embarrassing—but always instructive. Each time I stumbled and stood back up, I established a pattern. I’d accept the defeat and work harder the next time, and then the next. Now, I feel confident enough to unabashedly care. Every single day. Not because I have achieved perfection, but because I’ve experienced enough failure and rejection to know I can handle it, and that it’s worth it to keep trying.
I try way too hard in gym class pickle-ball. I care deeply—often too quickly—for people, for moments, for futures I dream up in my head. I talk so much in class discussions that I sometimes get annoyed by the sound of my own voice.
It’s the big things and the small things and everything in between. Having interests and passions is what makes you you.
Despite often being overshadowed by athletics, Algonquin has an incredible arts program, a nationally recognized paper and dozens of clubs run by highly motivated students and advisors. I mention this because the endless opportunities provided by the school have enriched my life. Dive into something new. Armed with a Google Calendar, a notebook full of to-do lists, and determination, you can do it all.
Most importantly, the people you surround yourself with can either fuel your apathy or challenge it. Choose the ones who care passionately and relentlessly. The best friends aren’t just the ones who make you laugh until your ribs get tough, they’re the ones who push you and teach you, too. Sitting next to someone who genuinely loves physics makes it harder to give up; her energy makes you want to try, even when circuits don’t make sense. Running against the fastest hurdler on the team can either intimidate you or inspire you—but if you let it, it’ll make you better. I always say that a conversation with my best friends teaches me more about the world than any class ever could. My DECA teammate, my co-editor and my study partners have taught me that caring is contagious, not embarrassing. When you surround yourself with people who revel in their interests—their passions, their futures and each other—it becomes easier, and safer, to care deeply too.
Caring also means being willing to change—your opinions, your routines, your understanding of the world. As someone who was voted “Most Likely to Win an Argument,” it can be very difficult for me to admit when I’m wrong. It’s so much easier to assume you already have the right answers and to turn a blind eye to perspectives that make you uncomfortable. However, the moments that have transformed me as a person haven’t come from me being right, they came from conversations that challenged me to listen more, ask questions and change how I think.
Whether it was a debate over gun control in AP Gov, a lecture about the meat industry from Ms. Connolly or getting called out by a friend for something I said, I’ve realized that caring isn’t stubbornly clinging to what I believe. It means being brave enough to admit when I have more to learn.
As I go forward, I want to hold on to that mindset. I want to keep trying too hard at the things I love, even when it’s difficult. Being passionate about the world has given me joy, connection and the confidence to be myself.
I challenge you to love loudly, to be curious and open. Drop the emotional armor. Try hard. It’s worth it.
