In the Middle

Since elementary school, making friends has always come naturally to me. I am outgoing and often take the lead in forming connections. I participated in sports during elementary school, but there was almost always someone better than me, and I was rarely the top student. It felt like each classmate excelled in a different subject, and those skills became something they worked hard to improve.

 

Since attending Stanstead, I have never been recognized as a great athlete or a top student who excelled academically. I have never understood how it came so easily to people who were outstanding in school or sports or even both. At times, I would think to myself, “Why couldn’t I be good at math?” or, “Why couldn’t I be able to play like that?”

 

I didn’t understand why I lacked these qualities. I often felt insecure in school and sports because, to me, there was always someone better, no matter how hard I tried. I would feel confused and frustrated to the point that it seemed like I was invisible, and no one noticed how hard I worked. As I began my final year, I found myself struggling more than ever. I lost family members, which led me to miss school and sports. I found myself struggling to keep up with schoolwork and the sport I love, feeling like no matter how hard I tried, I was always falling behind everyone else.

 

Over time, constantly feeling behind made me ask a different question: if I wasn’t the smartest or the most athletic, then what was I good at? That question prompted me to start looking for my strengths in places I'd never considered before. As I paid closer attention to my everyday life, I began noticing my strengths that didn’t show up on a scoreboard or report card.

 

I realized I was the friend people turned to when they were upset, the person who could listen without judging. These moments didn’t make me “the best” at anything on paper, but they showed me I was good at empathy and communication, and that those strengths mattered more than I had ever given them credit for.

 

In the end, I’m still not the smartest in class or the best on the court, and I’m okay with that. I’ve learned that my worth isn’t defined by my marks or medals but by how I listen, support others and use my voice. Once I began to value those strengths, I stopped feeling average and started feeling enough.