Tearing away at my backpack in a frenzy, I could not find anything except my laptop. Where is it? How could I forget something so important? I yanked out my headphones as my heartbeat pulsed; I looked up twice, once at my spirited peers and once at my cheerful advisor, who believed in me to join his club. My eyes flickered with fear as we made eye contact. How trustworthy was I when I wasn’t responsible enough to bring my ID to the airport?  Hot tears of stress started to trickle down my reddened face. “Mr. Juliano, I forgot my ID.”

For months, my classmates and I manically prepared for the We the People competition, a high school civics club based on the American Government. Tasked with preparing for a mock congressional hearing, we had to spend hours reading scholarly articles and researching. Yet, months of studying seemingly evaporated into nothing. It was not that I was incompetent; I was simply unsure if I had the potential to succeed. My classmates—accepted into prestigious colleges like Cornell, Barnard, and UC Schools—were some of my high school's best students. I envied these esteemed individuals, whom I felt incomparable to. I anxiously questioned my place in the classroom every time I walked inside, and I couldn't bring myself to answer every question posed to the class. The last thing I wanted was to reveal how inadequate I felt. As the competition inched closer, my spirit collapsed from stress, which reflected my poor performance at the district competition. I felt repulsive--resentful of myself. I could not look my teammates in the eye,  knowing I was the sole reason for our lowly placing. As I stared at the girl in the mirror, she whispered, “You are a failure,” but was I?

Despite my shortcomings, we still advanced, meaning we had to attend the state competition, another set of topics to research, another season of stress, and a mere one-and-a-half months to prepare. While I wanted to quit, I could not fail my teammates again. Yet, when I sat at my desk to research, the horrors of the district competition began again. I could hear the girl from the mirror seep into my mind, “You were never good enough.” As I felt the paralyzing anxiety return, I shut my laptop once more. I began to question my purpose for joining this club. Regardless of the countless weekends I spent toiling away, trying to meet the expectations I set for myself, I was never confident. I wished my seat would have been given to someone more deserving. Eventually, the self-despair consumed me enough that I realized I needed to leave this black hole, or else I’d lose myself in it forever. While I nearly cried at the airport because I forgot my ID, this purging of feelings triggered a rebirth within me.

As I sat in the conference room, the chatter in my mind quieted. I refused to let my emotions consume me; that sentiment sat with me as I walked towards the judges. I was at ease as they began asking questions, knowing I was well-prepared to believe in myself. I began taking the initiative to counter the complex interrogations. My clear and receptive answers were not only to my teammates but also to myself. As the competition ended, a surge of relief and confidence filled me. I never perceived myself as a winner until now, a realization that would benefit me beyond this club.

Although We the People educated me about the American government, its profound effect gave me the confidence to trust myself. While I initially allowed my psyche to operate in a mode of anxiety and fear, I learned how to switch it to a mode of confidence and self-respect. Although I had forgotten my passport at the airport, I found myself and my capabilities again through We the People.

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