Goals

Every living organism has goals. Okay, so maybe microorganisms and wild animals have simple goals such as, “I would like to not be eaten or otherwise destroyed today,” but they are goals nevertheless. Humans, topping the proverbial food chain, tend to have highly unique and at times fantastic aspirations – from the ten-year-old imagining himself as the next Superman to the teenager who wants simply to not be grounded for the next century after crashing his parents’ car to the mother suddenly set on returning to work. Because these goals are so wide-ranging, speaking of them on a broad scale is difficult. Therefore, this essay will focus on my own personal experiences in three areas: school, extracurricular, and community involvement.
High school. Who knew two little words could invoke so much feeling in a person? Be you young or old, man or woman, jock or nerd, “high school” is a phrase that brings memories and emotions bubbling to the surface of your brain and threatens to cause a rant so intense that, until you exhaust your vocal chords, it will not end. Of course, that does not mean it has only negative connotation. I, for example, hate the amount of homework I have, but I love all my classes: French 1010 (soon-to-be French 1020), AP Calculus AB, Debate III, AP Government and Politics, AP English, AP Art History, physics, and, of course, my study period, all have amazing instructors and students alike, making my time at school highly enjoyable – until I get home and realize I will have to stay up all night (again) in order to maintain my 3.942 grade-point average, and that I still haven’t finished my Public Forum cases for a tournament that is three days away. Add to that the stress of realizing I haven’t attended Tae Kwon Do for a week – no, actually, make that a month – and that Instructor James Choi will surely not let me test for my second-degree black belt in February; that when I gave myself some slack my class ranking dropped (which is absolutely infuriating); that I have a debate meeting at seven-thirty the next morning; and that my National Honors Society, Key Club, and French Club membership fees are due at the end of the week, and a mental break-down becomes a very real possibility. The only refuge is the fact that a three-day weekend is coming up, and then I can get caught up. But, low and behold, suddenly it’s Monday night, I have school in the morning, and I haven’t even touched my homework! I berate myself for not writing down or accomplishing my goals, take a deep breath, and prepare for another all-nighter, some handy-dandy Five-Hour Energy by my side. Then come the late-night questions: “Why even bother?” “What’s the point?” “Will one late assignment really make that much difference?” “Yes,” I tell myself firmly, “it will, because you want to become a veterinarian, and you want your Doctorate of Veterinary Medicine from Cornell University, which is, to say the least, difficult to gain entrance to. You have already received a full-ride scholarship from Utah State University, but you will only receive those if you maintain your 3.942 GPA, which is already down from the 3.947 you had at the end of last year. And how do you expect to be ready for college if you cannot even handle high school courses? (Never mind that those courses are college-level!) Besides, how are you going to have a combination pre-veterinary and nutrition major and become an article-writing, clinic-owning, news-making veterinarian making regular monthly donations to the ASPCA if you do not succeed in every facet of your education? So yes, you do have to stay up all night doing this study guide for your art history class! Otherwise your future plans will fail!” And, after this reassuring talk, I attack the homework with a renewed vengeance, vowing to succeed in completing it (if not before morning, then at least before third-period, when I have the class).
High school debate is a monster, feeding on time set aside for fun and for sleep with equal ardor and causing the weak of heart to flee in absolute terror. This is especially true in my chosen specialties: Public Forum and Student Congress. Both demand that the participating student yield at least a Friday, if not also a Saturday, to an exhausting and stressful tournament that inevitably extends far too deeply into the night. However, the first also demands time yielded to the creation of not one, but two four-minute cases (an affirmative and a negative) on the given topic, which changes every month; and each round, no matter how heated and stressful, lasts at least forty-five minutes. The second form demands less preparation time – the student must simply write a resolution and a four-minute proponent speech of that resolution – but each session can last upwards of four hours, with the typical tournament holding two or three sessions total; and, of course, the stress of handling “our fellow senators” who have no comprehension of the subject at hand but who insist on giving a three-minute speech on it anyway can be enough to drive some participants absolutely insane. In these respects, debate is a terrible extracurricular activity. However, the monster, like that of Frankenstein, has some redeeming qualities. In Public Forum, for example, a student has a partner with whom to joke about opponents and judges alike. Student Congress offers the same friendly banter with any school’s senators. And, of course, the school team itself is a refuge in which members can seek and give advice, and in which one befriends one’s fellow debaters. It is for this reason that I remained a part of the team for three years, and that I agreed to become Hillcrest’s Public Forum captain this year. I therefore help the novices with their questions regarding this form of debate and regarding Student Congress, especially at our weekly Wednesday morning meeting. As the club’s Homecoming Queen candidate, a Sterling Scholar applicant in English, and a National Merit Scholarship finalist, I believe I have also gained publicity for the class and for the team, for which I am very happy.
Since the beginning of 2010, I have spent an hour and a half driving to and from Sandy, Utah, to Herriman, Utah, in order to spend and hour in the outrageous heat (or lack thereof, depending on the season) at Ching Farm Animal Rescue and Sanctuary. In the beginning, this was simply for a grade; one of the requirements of my Veterinary Assisting class was that I spend at least an hour every week working with an animal assigned to me by my teacher. During the second semester of this course, that animal happened to be a Thoroughbred horse named Amber. I spent the required time with her every weekend, brushing her, picking her hooves, and stretching her legs. It wasn’t long until I discovered I was growing attached to her – the majority of this discovery being courtesy of the seething jealousy I felt when the other girl assigned to Amber happened to show up at the same time I was there, and I was thus made to face an hour of seeing her intimately interact with what I deemed then and there to be my horse. After realizing my attachment to Amber, I decided to continue working with her, even after the requirement was rescinded toward the end of the school year. The inconsistency of summer brought inconsistency in my visits to Amber; however, the beginning of my senior year returned structure to my life, and I again began visiting her for at least an hour every week. My unspoken goal is to never miss a week, as I am painfully ashamed of my erratic attendance during the summer. Though I have yet to write down this goal, I have kept it (perhaps a result of its importance to me).
Personally, I have complicated, somewhat outrageous personal goals, ranging from becoming a combination veterinarian-nutritionist-journalist to helping novices in high school debate to visiting a geriatric Thoroughbred for at least an hour every week. However, that is not surprising, considering the fact that humans are generally more complex when it comes to goal-making than animals are. Rather than simply resolving to not be eaten that day, a teenage girl may resolve to have identical twin boys named Aiden – no, not after the band – and Seamus. Whether or not those goals are accomplished depends on many factors, most out of any person’s control. However, those inside the goal-maker’s sphere of influence – whether related to school, extracurricular activities, or his or her community as a whole – should be carefully handled so that they cannot but work in that person’s favor. In this way, goals are an integral part of modern society.