I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A CHAMPION

→ By Trislyn Maeda (‘23) AN ESSAY

We live in a society where the busy life is the right life, where money, success, and accomplishment are the goals of our life’s pursuits. As students, we all crave achievement, and we know what it looks like too. Sometimes this success comes in the form of a report card; for athletes it’s that and a trophy. But I believe we’ve got it all wrong. The culture we live in has conditioned us to believe that in obtaining tangible success we will gain happiness. And thus we chase achievement in an endeavor to feel complete. However, what happens when we fail or things don’t turn out the way we want even despite our best efforts? Does it mean we will never be happy?

Editorial

“How to Love School Again”

Continued from page 2 an insightful view on the difference between a job and a career from Mrs. Ustare. I’ve received an abundance of information about college, the professional world, and relationships, and I’ve been inspired to keep asking questions wherever I go.

In some ways, school is a microcosm of life. Both journeys center around growth, and along the road, we can achieve greatly, fail miserably, and relentlessly pursue knowledge. Of course, the comparison is limited. Classes and grades can suggest that we are able to reach the pinnacle of a subject, that a perfect and comprehensive grasp of knowledge is attainable. However, one of the most liberating and exhilarating revelations I’ve experienced is the fact that I will never know everything, but I get to spend the remainder of my existence turning onto unexplored roads and unearthing latent wisdom. Once, the impossibility of crossing a clearly marked finish line would have intimidated or frustrated me, but unlike in school, the point of life is not to reach completion, but to stroll down an infinite path, pausing to peer closer at the surrounding scenery.

A sense of breathless wonder towards the world has also augmented my desire to learn more about the people and possible experiences around me. Of course, there are days when excitement and optimism seem distant and faded, but instead of complacently accepting this worldview, I’m slowly attempting to cleanse it from my being, one thoughtful conversation, stimulating class period, or captivating discovery at a time. The ability to grow and expand our understanding of the world and ourselves is a gift. When we dare to be curious instead of complacent, adventurous instead of apathetic, we can become lifelong learners. High school is perhaps the only period in our lives when we’re more or less completely free and encouraged to learn; generally, we don’t need to work or worry about providing basic necessities for ourselves. Unfortunately, instead of opening our eyes and recognizing this four-year stretch as a time for exploration, we aimlessly sleepwalk and stumble through it, allowing cynicism to corrupt us. We should stop seeing the school campus as a prison and start viewing it as the home of boundless opportunities. A love for learning shouldn’t be confined to the classroom, but it can start there.

This year I set my mind on becoming a state champion as a varsity basketball athlete. I’ve been playing basketball since was eight years old. From the beginning, I always loved the sport, the adrenaline rush, the competition, and the way the game challenges one to think beyond personal fitness and skill. However, in my junior season, I didn’t play as much as had hoped, and my lack of contribution on the court made me feel distant from the team’s successes. We had won the state championship that year, and though I was proud of my teammates and what they accomplished, I felt empty inside. I did not have a sense of personal achievement, and the victory did not feel like it was mine to share. And so, the Monday after that championship night, I got to work; I committed to becoming the best version of myself that I could possibly be for my senior season. I wanted to make an impact. I wanted to feel like a champion.

Senior year came around and my efforts carried me into a starting role on the varsity team and earned me the honor of being the team captain. I always knew that a team captain’s responsibility was to put their teammates’ needs before their own. But now that I was in that position, it oddly seemed more difficult to do; even though I wanted to be a good teammate, I also wanted to be a good player. If I became one thing, it felt as though I was giving up the other. wanted to give my heart and soul to everyone on my team. However, learned from the last season that being a team player can sometimes take away from one’s focus and aspirations for themselves, and this year I was aiming for the reward of selfaccomplishment. Still, I understood that if I focused entirely on my own ambitions, would be losing sight of what had always mattered to me most: being a leader. If everything was about me, I would be no leader at all.

Throughout the season, I wrestled to find a balance between these two roles. I didn’t always do a good job of that. However, our team did well, gaining momentum after each game. We became conference champions and took the first seed in the Division 2 HHSAA Girls Basketball State Tournament. We were within reach of the championship title. Everything that I’d worked for felt right around the corner. We made it past the first game of the tournament and headed to the semi-finals ready to take on the fourth-ranked team, Kapaa. We were one game away from having all our hard work pay off, one game away from being champions, and then we lost.

We trailed 23 to 8 until the end of the third quarter. With