EAGLE EYE TENNESSEE TECH UNIVERSITY
Fall 2025
Free Per Single Copy
Cover Design: Callie Smith
Cover Photo: Emma Krebs
Contents Design: Micah Goff
Managing Editor: Micah Goff
Copy Editor:
Shepard Steadman
Faculty Consultant: Dr. Brenda Wilson
Contributors:
Rehannah Barkley Ryan Carrigan Matthew Chisholm Lilly Davis Eva Dingwall Chelsea Easton Micah Goff Gianna Harper Emma Krebs Olivia Lauper Makayla Martin Robyn McCullah Callie Smith Shepard Steadman
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Contents E A G L E 1
01 Fall 02 2025 03 04 06 08 10 12 14
Walking with a Purpose Roadie for a Day More than just a Grandfather From Scrubs to Suits The Man I Never Knew
A Valentine’s Day Hike to Remember When I Threw My Script on the Floor
Walking with a Purpose
Story by Ryan Carrigan Layout by Micah Goff
I
t was 2020, and I had just graduated high school, during COVID-19 might I add. Senior year without any of the senior festivities was not so fun. We had an outdoor graduation with limited family members allowed to attend. Even then, it was not until late July, a month and a half after the school year officially ended. I decided to go to Volunteer State Community College for two years and then transfer to Tennessee Tech University. Let’s just say God had a slightly different plan that would eventually give me the character and faith I have today. My first year went smoothly, so to speak, although completely virtual. My second year started well. Campus had opened some; I had a few in-person classes, and life was good. Before I get into what happened next, I want to explain something. I believe life is still good only because of Jesus Christ and what he has done in my life. December 2021 came around. I had a stroke. Paralyzed on my right side from the waist down, I spent the next month in a rehabilitation hospital relearning to talk, walk and do minimal human tasks. I will admit in that month I wanted to drop out. I had zero self-motivation. My dad encouraged me to do school online, so I eventually decided to. I dropped down to 12 hours and did school online from the rehabilitation hospital. Eventually, I got to Tech, but the struggle didn’t stop there. Walking and daily activities already being
an issue, I had another smaller stroke weakening my tactile sense on my left side, hence why my handwriting is abysmal. The only thing that got me through the most horrific times that I imagine I will ever go through was Jesus. My faith grew exponentially in that time. Without my faith I have nothing to give me hope to carry on. I gave my life to Christ at 10 years old, but I never imagined my faith would be tested in that capacity. It was the best decision I ever made. I can say with absolute certainty Jesus is the reason that I am at Tech about to graduate four years later. It has been a struggle and frustrating at times, but I would not change it a bit. The author Paul in the Bible writes in the Book of Philippians, chapter one verse 21, “For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” This verse is why I can have the attitude I have. As a Christian, I believe God uses his people to illuminate his faithfulness, and when believers die, we will experience a much better life than our earthly ones. So, if I need to have more strokes for that, then so be it. Jesus, bring the rain!
Fall 2025 | 3
Roadie for a day Story by Robyn McCullah Photos by Makayla Martin Layout by Eva Dingwall The arena was filled with hundreds of fans swaying to the music as the stage lights illuminated the night. Meanwhile Robyn and the other roadies waited for the final chords to stop.
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reezing cold — that’s all I could think about as I made my way toward the Hooper Eblen Center with my ticket in hand. It was 2022, and the SOLO concert, an event Tech hosts every year, was upon us. The guests of honor? Lauren Alaina and Hunter Hayes. Doors opened at 7 p.m. Concert started at 8 p.m. It’s unlikely you’d find me at a country concert. In fact, I never would have gone if I weren’t in the situation I was then. I was so strapped for cash I couldn’t say no, even to just $75. In all black, I entered the line for the main gate. Thankfully, 7 p.m. came quickly. Hundreds of people crowded the halls and seating areas. It’s a miracle I even found a seat. As I watched the concert from the stadium as a “fan,” it became harder to imagine myself backstage in just two hours. 10 p.m., time to get to work.
Leaving the stadium, I quietly went around the back and outside trying to find the entrance to the tunnel where the main stage entrance is. Remember how I’m dressed in all black? That was a requirement of being a roadie for famous musicians. One I wasn’t fond of since there were cops everywhere, and I didn’t have any ID or backstage pass, nothing. It was also dark out. I’m sure it looked like I was sneaking in there like the crazy fans you see in movies, but to my surprise, no cops stopped me from crossing the police tape and waltzing right in. Upon arrival, a woman, blonde and in her early 40s, called my name. She was who I’d meet up with for paperwork. Not yet, though. The concert was on its last three or four songs. After the last chord struck, three other volunteer roadies and I were taken outside to the top of the tunnel.
“It became harder to imagine myself backstage in just two hours.”
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I never thought I’d be filling out tax forms on a concrete wall in 30-degree weather, but life can be cruel. My fingers felt numb as I handed the blonde woman my papers. She’d be my boss for the next seven and a half hours. With that, the stars left the stage, escorted by 10 men dressed in S.W.A.T. gear. It was finally time to start taking down the stage. Donkey Kong Begins... As volunteers, our job was to help carry stuff up the tunnel to the professionals waiting outside to put it in trucks. Seems easy enough, right? Wrong. Most were in big black boxes on wheels, and some of it we loaded onto forklifts. Anything not on wheels or too heavy for humans to carry went onto a forklift. The lightest thing we moved weighed 85 pounds. We started with the instruments, then the trusses that held the lights hanging above the stage floor. Each piece was at least a two-man job. We took down the lights, speakers and side panels next. Then, it was time for the stage floor itself to come up, along with the metal legs that held it. Last, were the plywood panels taken off the stadium floor and used to make level ground. As we pushed 100-pound boxes up the tunnel, forklifts would be coming down toward us. It felt like a game of Donkey Kong, but instead of dodging barrels, we were dodging the pointy ends of forklifts. We stuck to the walls of the tunnel like suckerfish. Back and forth we went, each metal truss or box getting heavier with each step. Once I almost fell carrying the end of a truss, my arms trying to give out on me. By 2 a.m., I heard the unmistakable “who-woo” of morning birds outside. By 4 a.m., I was outside helping load trucks. Loading trucks was even more dangerous. Forklifts were no longer contained to the tunnel. They seemed to be everywhere. Each box I went toward, there was a pointed truck heading in my direction. Eventually, the professionals took over. They moved quickly, organizing as they went. Finally! A breather! Dawn breaks... Checking my phone, it was 5 o’clock in the morning. Just 30 minutes left of my shift. The cold morning air felt incredible. All the heavy lifting and moving made my body feel like it was on fire. Not to mention everything hurt. After 10 minutes of break, the volunteers and I simply acted as middlemen. Someone would bring a box to the top of the tunnel; we’d roll it over to someone loading a truck. At 5:30 a.m., almost on the dot, the blonde woman returned. She gave us information detailing our payment
and sent us off into the sunrise. The walk back to the dorms wasn’t long, but it felt like an eternity. My knees would barely bend. Looking back, I’m shocked I could walk back at all, considering my feet felt like blocks of lead and my whole body ached. Eventually, I made it back to my dorm room. The sun shone through the blinds. My roommate was out cold. Changing into pajamas was slow and painful. All this I expected. What I wasn’t expecting? For laying down to feel even more painful than standing. This experience taught me two things. One: I certainly do not want to be a roadie like I thought I did beforehand. Two: My physical fitness was way worse than I thought.
The roadies’ job wasn’t filled with the colorful lights of the concert, but with piles of instruments and big black boxes filled with heavy equipment waiting to be moved to trucks.
Fall 2025 | 5
More than just a Grandfather Story by Olivia Lauper Layout by Micah Goff
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ake up, brush teeth, get dressed, let the dog out, put on shoes, get in the car, drive to Waffle House. My grandfather follows the exact routine every morning. It’s something he has worked hard for, enjoying the simple things in life like Waffle House, that is. He spends his mornings alone, besides the company of his rescue dog, Lenny, who follows him around as if he were his shadow. Being able to take the time to have a quiet morning routine alone is different from the mornings that would take place years ago during his childhood. “With me, there were 11 of us,” Jack Robinson said. “Eight boys and three girls, plus Momma and Daddy, so you never really had a moment of peace and quiet.” From a small town called Algood, Tennessee, life has been Jack Robinson, Army medic nothing short of challenging for him. Growing up, his childhood was rambunctious with so many other siblings, but being the youngest was a perk he cherished. “I remember Momma used to always send me to the store with a quarter or some small amount of change. You know, back then that was a lot of money. I’d always grab a small paper bag and a few pieces of candy from the counter. I’d bring it back, and Ruth would always beg for some. I had to share or else she’d tell momma.”
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As my grandfather grew up, life began to change as it does for all of us. Upon getting out of school, he was drafted into the Army. He had to leave Algood, the town he knew all of his life, and join the Army. He was assigned to a medic station in Regensburg, Germany, as a medic, and he loved every second of it. Looking back over the pictures he had taken with his polaroid camera over the years, he smiled and laughed at a few of them that had some of his friends at the time in them.
“I remember momma used to always send me to the store with a quarter or some small amount of change.”
The photos were of some of his friends posed outside the Eiffel Tower in Paris or all piled onto a tiny couch in someone’s flat, and some were of landmarks that stuck out to him at the time. He doesn’t speak much of what he did while he was abroad except that he spent time there from 1963-1965 and that he loved the ability to travel. It was a different world. Years passed and he was able to come home. “There was one time, I can’t remember the year exactly, but some friends and I were leaving a restaurant, I believe. We were walking around the back of the building where we were parked, and all of a sudden, the back door to the building opened and a few people walked out. At first, we didn’t pay any attention because we thought it was just people trying to do their job. Until my buddy slapped me on the arm, I looked over and there stood Elvis Presley! We stood in shock for a second and then just waved at him. He waved back and just walked, got in his car and left. Still one of those ‘I can’t believe it’ moments.”
“Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, let the dog out, put on shoes, get in the car, drive to Waffle House.”
Olivia Lauper and her granddad Jack Robinson.
Fast forward years later and my grandfather eventually ends up having a daughter. This woman would become my mom. He always told me growing up that her childhood was one of the best periods of his life. He would do anything she wanted,
from taking her to KISS concerts to seeing Michael Jackson. He would bring home random pets for her like bunnies, chickens and her childhood dog named Snoopy. He was made to be a father and a grandfather. After more years passed, my
mom had me. My grandfather and I instantly became buddies. He would always take me to the Dollar Tree, and I could get whatever toys I wanted. Back then, everything was actually still a dollar. Life hasn’t always been easy for him being the last of 11 siblings, currently fighting Leukemia and remembering how life had once been. But that doesn’t stop him from doing the same thing every morning he worked so hard for. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, let the dog out, put on shoes, get in the car, drive to Waffle House.
“He would bring home random pets for her like bunnies, chickens and her childhood dog named Snoopy.”
Fall 2025 | 7
From Scrubs to Suits: Mayor Wheaton’s Drive to Serve Story By: Lilly Davis Layout By: Chelsea Easton
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want to instill confidence in the mayor’s seat. I want to assure local businesses they have my support and their efforts will be highlighted. I want to protect and promote traditions that have made Cookeville a special place to all of us. I want to highlight the people of this community and not the position of this office,” proclaimed Mayor Laurin Wheaton during her swearing-in ceremony, documented by News Talk 94.1: Where the Upper Cumberland Talks. Many college students in Cookeville could not tell you the city of Cookeville mayor’s name if you asked them. Since students are commonly only in the area for around four years, they do not take the time to educate themselves on the local leaders. Thus, they may not know the city is operated by a council-manager form of government, led by a city council and a city manager chosen by the council. It holds two meetings a month. The Cookeville City Council consists of representatives including the mayor, vice mayor and three councilmen because there are no district divisions in the city. These representatives hold council meetings every first and third Thursday of every month at 5:30 p.m. at Cookeville City Hall. These meetings are presided over by the mayor and address the operations of the city such as community issues, public hearings, project approvals, city proclamations, contracts and much more. “These meetings are open to the public and are an opportunity for citizens to be involved in the
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Mayor Laurin Wheaton inspires young women with her words.
decision-making process for our city. We welcome those who would like to attend as we work diligently for this great place to live and work,” Wheaton stated on the city of Cookeville website. I am one of the students who could not tell you the name of the city of Cookeville mayor until I attended the 2023 Tech College of Business Women’s Leadership Conference and sat in Mayor Wheaton’s session. I listened to her story of stepping out of her comfort zone and making the decision to run for the city council after her friend encouraged her. Cookeville Lifestyles Magazine highlights Wheaton as one of Cookeville’s Most Influential People, and they are right in their decision.
Wheaton grew up in Mississippi and moved to Cookeville in 2013. Wheaton had many titles, including wife, mom and nurse practitioner, until 2018 when she took a risk and ran for vice-mayor of Cookeville, adding one more to the list. “With a desire to serve and bring a new perspective to the city of Cookeville, I embarked on the path to public service in 2018, serving four years as vice-mayor before being elected to the City Council again in 2022 as mayor,” she explained on the city of Cookeville website. After winning the election on Aug. 4, 2022, Wheaton became the second female mayor of Cookeville, serving as a role model and trailblazer to women and girls in the
Upper Cumberland area. “I am very pleased to call Cookeville home and am honored to be serving this great community along with my fellow Council members,” she stated on the city of Cookeville website. I had the honor of interviewing this astounding woman. I started by asking Wheaton why she wanted to go from a nurse practitioner to running for mayor of Cookeville, and she explained, “So interesting fact, I am still a practicing nurse practitioner since the mayor position is not full-time. But being a nurse practitioner allowed me to see the needs of the community and also being a nurse has given me a servant’s heart, and I wanted to make sure our commu-
If there is one thing Wheaton loves, it is this city and making a difference in the hard-working people’s lives who live here in the heart of Putnam County, Tennessee. She expressed to me what her most prideful act as mayor has been so far, “We have been able to increase the pay of our city employees year after year with a focus on our first responders. I think it is so important to take care of our employees because of all they do for the city.” As a woman myself who has been in leadership positions my entire life, I wanted to know what it felt like to become the second female mayor of Cookeville. “It was such an honor. It was a goal I really wanted to accomplish
and raising her family in this beautiful city. She went on to explain what she still wants to accomplish, “I want to continue Cookeville on the path of success. I want to see Cookeville still be a place that has that small town family-friendly atmosphere yet have the opportunities of a bigger city. I want to see us grow in a planned strategic way and prepare for the future and leave Cookeville a better place when I am out of office.” Being mayor has struggles and hardships, but Wheaton also values that it comes with joy and fullness. Her position also comes with funny moments, and she shared her funniest story. “I am around kids a lot since I have two of my own, and they are
“We can do hard things... being mayor, governor, CEO or even president is an obtainable goal!” nity continued to be a great place to live.” She gives so much to this community, working hard eight hours a day as a nurse practitioner as well as working as our city’s mayor. She stated, “Being mayor does mean I serve on multiple boards, so there are normally at least two or three of those meetings a week. I also attend ribbon cuttings when I am available and speak to groups if asked. But a lot of the time is spent addressing issues within the community and figuring out the best way to be fiscally responsible for our city while improving the quality of life for our community. That includes having lots of discussions with directors at the city and with our citizens.”
because I believe when you see different people in leadership positions, it encourages others to want to lead and serve in those positions. I still can’t believe it today!” she exclaimed. She glows with confidence in every room she enters, showcasing to young girls their dreams can come true too. She continued to convey what she hopes women and girls will gain from her story: “That we can do hard things. That being mayor, governor, CEO or even president is an obtainable goal!” Wheaton is a little over halfway through her term as mayor of Cookeville, has done so much for the community so far and prides herself in giving back to the city she calls home. She loves Cookeville
always asking me where are my security guards, do I ride around in a limo, and do I live in the White House? I have to remind them that being mayor is not that glamorous of a job.” she said. Hearing from this kind soul made me feel proud of the city I live in and have grown to adore. She is so giving to the people of Cookeville, and we are so fortunate to have her as a leader of our community. I can only hope Tech students learn that for around four years of our lives, this is our home, and we should know who is leading the community we live in and be able to have leaders we can look up to, just like Mayor Laurin Wheaton and the rest of the Cookeville City Council.
Fall 2025 | 9
The Man I Never Knew Story by Chelsea Easton Layout by Micah Goff
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welve days before my high school graduation, I sat on a plane heading to a state I’d never been to, stayed with people I’d never met, to attend the funeral of a man I’d never met. That man was my father. When I was very young, my father left, not exactly of his own choice. My mother forced him to leave because he was a drug addict and an abuser, someone she didn’t want around her small child, even if he was the father of that child. He got on a train and headed north, and I never saw him again.
“All my life, I knew I would never have a relationship with my biological father.” I have no memory of any of that or really of him at all. When all this happened, I was only two or three, but I know it was for the best. My mother wanted a better life for me than the one he was creating for himself and the life she had experienced with him. I probably wouldn’t have become the person I am today if he had stayed. All my life, I knew I would never have a relationship with my biological father. He chose drugs and homelessness over everyone, time and time again. Somehow, he was totally fine with his lifestyle; he actually preferred it. He was homeless in the same city where all of his family lived. They would drive past him, sleeping on a park bench on their way to work, and that was just normal. They tried to help him: giving him a place to stay, helping him find a job and encouraging him to get clean, but it never worked. So, he just continued on in his ways until he couldn’t anymore.
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In 2022, he was diagnosed with COVID. He had a severe case of it, and it took a huge toll on him. Even after he got better, he had major breathing problems. Getting sick was a wake-up call for him. He decided he wanted to get better and live his life in a meaningful way. Throughout the next six months, he worked to get his own apartment and was in the process of getting a job. He finally started to want to be a part of everyone’s life – until he got sick again. In April of 2023, he was diagnosed with COVID once again, but this time his lungs couldn’t withstand it because of the damage from his first infection. He died on April 24, 2023. When I got the call, I sat there and cried. I don’t even know why. I didn’t know him. It didn’t make a difference in my life whether he was actually alive or not because he had been dead to me for years. Yet, I still cried. Maybe for myself and for the person he was supposed to be in my life. Maybe for him and for the new life he was hoping to start, that was stripped from him before it even began. Maybe I cried because some part of me had always been waiting for him to come back, and now that wasn’t possible.
I decided I wanted to go to the funeral. After all, he was still my father even if that never occurred to him. So I got on a plane and went to Rhode Island. In the days leading up to the funeral, I met all of the family I never
“So I got on a plane and went to Rhode Island.” knew I had, the family I thought never cared about me. It was such a bittersweet feeling. The love they showed me almost overshadowed the real reason I was there, but in the back of my mind, I knew what was to come. When the day of the funeral arrived, I convinced myself I’d be fine. After all, how could I mourn a man I never knew even if that man was my father? My sister and I were the first ones to the funeral home. The moment we stepped into the funeral home, a heaviness hung in the air, making it almost impossible to breathe. It was like grief itself lived in the walls. I scanned the room, taking everything in until I spotted it — the coffin.
It felt like the whole world had stopped. Ten feet from me lay my father’s dead body. It was the most surreal, conflicting feeling. I immediately burst into tears and ran outside to get as far away as possible. I felt stupid more than anything. I didn’t even know him, yet here I was bawling my eyes out over him. It took over 30 minutes and multiple family members consoling me before I could go back inside. I just couldn’t face him. Still, after all of these years, he had a hold on me I couldn’t shake. When I went back in, I sat in the room outside the service. I just couldn’t even be in the same room as him. And that’s how I left it. I never faced him again, never said my final goodbyes. How could I say goodbye to someone I never got the chance to say hello to? It was the strangest kind of grief — grieving someone I lost before he was actually gone. Even now, his absence feels louder than his presence ever could have.
Chelsea Easton (Tech shirt), and her family in Rhode Island.
Fall 2025 | 11
A Valentine’s Day Hike to Remember “ At that moment, roses and chocolate suddenly didn’t sound so overrated after all.”
Rehannah and Nathan stop along the hike to take a selfie.
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ain soaked through myso-called rain jacket, my socks squished with every step, and barely a mile in, my tennis shoes had already rubbed a raw blister on the back of my heel. This was not the Valentine’s Day date I had imagined. While other couples were clinking wine glasses and splitting slices of cheesecake, I was slipping and sliding down a muddy Tennessee trail with Nathan, my boyfriend, who had carefully planned what he thought would be the perfect romantic adventure. The idea had sounded sweet in theory. Nathan and I had been dating since May of the year before, and he wanted to do something memorable for our first Valentine’s Day together. A hike to Virgin Falls, tucked into the Cumberland Plateau, seemed to him like the perfect mix of beauty and challenge. He pitched it as a special way to spend time together, far from crowded restaurants or the usual clichés. I knew we would be hiking, but I didn’t expect the word “strenuous” stamped onto the trail map
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or the reality of 8.6 miles round trip in the cold, steady rain. At that moment, roses and chocolate suddenly didn’t sound so overrated after all. We pulled into the parking lot under gray skies. A park ranger stood near the trailhead, giving warnings to hikers who came by. He told us to bring flashlights, to stay on the path and to be mindful of how quickly daylight fades this time of year. Then, as if trying to plant fear directly in my chest, he launched into stories of hikers who had ignored those warnings, gotten lost and had to be rescued after dark. I forced a smile and nodded, but in the back of my mind, I was already uneasy. Nathan, on the other hand, was thrilled. With his usual energy and flashing smile, he set off at a brisk pace. I, less prepared, found myself jogging at times just to keep up, already regretting my choice of worn tennis shoes. The trail twisted down through slick rocks and tree roots, every step threatening to send me tumbling. By mile 1.2, the blister on my heel was a constant, sharp
Story by Rehannah Barkley Layout by Matthew Chisholm reminder that this day was not unfolding as I’d hoped. Still, I tried to keep my spirits up. I told Nathan how grateful I was for the effort he had put into planning the trip, and I encouraged him whenever he asked if I was doing okay. We stopped for photos at a few smaller falls, the water rushing down in silver sheets that misted our faces. The photos look cheerful enough now, but at the time, all I could think about was how soaked through my jacket felt and how badly I wanted to sit down. The rain only grew heavier as we pushed on, and we didn’t rest until reaching Virgin Falls at mile 4.3. Standing before the waterfall was surreal. Water thundered down from above, spilling over rocks into a frothing pool down below—its sound echoing into the trees. We huddled under a dripping cliff ledge, pulling out the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I had packed and sharing a bag of purple Doritos. It wasn’t candlelight and champagne, but in its own way, it was something memorable. My
teeth chattered so hard I could barely chew, yet the sight of Nathan’s proud smile softened my discomfort. He had wanted to give me something special, and this was his way of showing it. The trek back, however, tested every ounce of patience I had left. My blister burned with each step, my shoes squelched with trapped water and the rain showed no signs of letting up. At one point, I insisted on leading, forcing Nathan to slow down to my pace. The trail seemed endless, a winding path of mud and misery, and I counted every marker like a personal victory. By the time we finally reached the parking lot, I was exhausted and freezing. The worst part came when I realized I couldn’t possibly sit in the car for the ride home in my drenched clothes. With no bathrooms in sight, I had no choice but to awkwardly change behind the car door, glancing around nervously and praying no one else pulled into the lot at the wrong time. It wasn’t
Nathan at a Virgin Falls sign, orchestrator of the “perfect” date.
Virgin Falls, the crescendo of the Valentine’s Day date. exactly the glamorous Valentine’s Day memory I had pictured. Looking back, though, I can laugh at the misery. The day was cold, wet and far from romantic, but it was also a reminder of what it means to share experiences. Even the messy ones. Nathan had put real thought into planning every detail, and even though it wasn’t the fairytale date I might have dreamed of, I was grateful for his effort and the love behind it. I planned our next few dates after that. In the end, Virgin Falls gave me more than sore feet and a blister. It gave me a story that Nathan and I still tell with equal parts laughter and eye-rolling. It showed me relationships are not built on perfect plans but on the ability to endure discomfort together, to find humor in the rain and to cherish the memory even when things go wrong. That Valentine’s Day hike may not have been ideal, but it was unforgettable; muddy shoes, soggy sandwiches and all.
“That Valentine’s Day hike may not have been ideal, but it was unforgettable; muddy shoes, soggy sandwiches, and all.”
Fall 2025 | 13
When I Threw My Script on the Floor
Story by Gianna Harper Layout by Micah Goff
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he heaviness in my chest tightened as I walked through the door. The screaming voices echoed throughout the room—the sounds of wheezing breaths in the distance. For most people, it was just another day; however, this was the one day they looked forward to. And for me? I had been dreading this day for weeks. It was my first time sharing my testimony, and my audience was a bunch of middle schoolers. Middle schoolers to you might look sweet and innocent, but the truth is, many are lost, scared and mad at the world. They take their anger out on whoever is closest to them. I have spent three years serving and praying that Jesus would give me a challenge, and He certainly did when I became a WyldLife leader for Cookeville Young Life two years ago.
I originally hoped to be placed with high schoolers. I could relate to kids closer to my age. But instead, I got placed at Avery Trace Middle School. I don’t know anything about middle schoolers except they are awkward children going through puberty. When I first met my group of girls, my goal was to be their friend and not their babysitter. I wanted to teach them the foundation of Christ and become someone these girls could look up to, who wasn’t their mom but still close enough to talk about girls stuff with. These were big dreams of mine because when I met these seven girls, it was nothing but judgment. I would wake up at 6 a.m. every Wednesday and sit at a table in a coffee shop, waiting for some girls to come to Bible study. However, to them, I was just a ride to school.
“Middle schoolers to you might look sweet and innocent, but the truth is, many are lost, scared and mad at the world.”
Avery Trace Middle School.
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“I looked into a sea of wide-eyed children. They were shocked. I cracked a few jokes to break the ice and told my testimony.” At the beginning of the year, I was asked to share my testimony about how I came to know Jesus at an event we hosted for Young Life. I was terrified. I had already spent weeks trying and failing to connect with my group of seven girls. Now I was expected to stand up in front of 50 middle schoolers and pour my heart out? I slowly made my way onto the podium. I felt the sweat form around my neck. My voice trembled as I said, “Hi y’all, I’m Gianna.”
And then it hit me. These were just 12-yearolds. I’ve preached in front of 85 college women before with no hesitation. You’d think I would be considered “cool.” I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and in
“Now I was expected to stand up in front of 50 middle schoolers and pour my heart out?”
I had brought a massive bag of candy that day because I figured if I bombed the talk, at least candy could make a 12-year-old smile. Sure enough, after I passed it out, the kids started coming up and asking questions, and inviting me to be their partner in games. After weeks of doubting myself, I finally reached the middle school community. I was finally “cool” to them. That day changed my faith forever. That moment showed me what confidence and faithfulness looked like. Since becoming a Young Life leader, all I’ve ever wanted is to make an impact and show kids how amazing our God is. And that day, the fear disappeared. I built a connection. I created a community.
that moment, I surrendered. I threw my paper on the ground. I had spent weeks writing and editing my own testimony, and I just threw it on the floor. I looked into a sea of wide-eyed children. They were shocked. I cracked a few jokes to break the ice and told my testimony. I don’t know if any of those kids listened to me that day, but I listened to my heart. I stopped trying to be perfect. I stopped trying to follow a script. I just spoke from the place where Jesus had changed my life. A few of my girls came up to me after I spoke and gave me a hug. I had finally connected with them. In that moment, I felt Jesus showed himself in that place. Gianna Harper at Young Life Camp.
Fall 2025 | 15
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