Five pink-colored looking rocks sat on my palm. I stared at them with awe, as if they were teaching me a new secret of this earth, transporting me to a different time. I placed them securely in my pocket and ran back to join my family. I was a fifth grader then, ecstatic from my new discovery. They were not rocks, but rather old pieces of pottery.
That year my dad moved my family to the Middle East, my first time leaving the United States. He took us out to explore the new continent, taking us to places with histories that extended for thousands of years and teaching us the ancient tongue of the land. With each new place we visited, I found myself more intrigued. I knew from then on that History was and will always be my forte.
As we hiked across an ancient mountain built by Herod the Great, I collected dozens of those broken pottery pieces, from approximately two thousand years ago! I learned many different stories connected to each landscape, which blew me away.
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I felt alive when I learned the history of my ancestry– the history of this world–because I realized how scary, beautiful, scandalous, and interesting history can be. All these characteristics in history craft tales that we could not even imagine actually took place and makes me personally appreciate the elaborate, true stories that circled around the world for many, many moons and thousands of years.
My passion for history and stories followed me into high school, allowing me to join Historical Society, taking a Gotham Writer’s class, and founding and leading two clubs of my own with a friend: Creative Writing and Improv Theatre. Through participating in these exciting extracurriculars and clubs, I was and am able to inspire others with the wonders we call history and storytelling, while continuously getting new insights.