“My Own Cheering Section”

“Family is my own cheering section at my soccer games and robot competitions and anything else I do.” – Jackson, the coolest 13-year-old you’ll ever meet and my little brother

Our family is all about presence. Whether its a robot competition six hours away in San Francisco or a regatta on the other side of the country in Boston, my family will find a way to be there, in spirit or on the actual sidelines. Their constant encouragement and unending commentary on every new development has engrained in me the idea that I’ll always have people to lean on and people to support me in every endeavor. Their vested interest in my life has made me more confident in my choices, as I generally have exhaustive conversations with them regarding my decisions– academically, socially or in respect to extracurriculars. And I know they’ll be there to put me on their shoulders when I win or envelop me in hugs and kisses if I lose. In creating an environment of constant support, I’ve also grown more comfortable sharing intricate aspects of my life with them, including the social aspects that people may not generally tell their parents. To this day, I call my parents at least once a day with updates on friend drama, love interests and academic epiphanies. This has allowed them to have more of an influence over my decisions and I believe has also resulted in more safe, responsible, mature life decisions than I may have originally chose– while also, influencing the way I make choices in the future.

My Moment: I’ll never forget my high school graduation. Since there are 750 students in my grade, my school only allows each student to have three graduation tickets. Since my mother works at the school, she found a way to get fifteen graduation tickets which she distributed amongst my extended family. When I walked down the steps of Santa Monica High School’s Greek Theater, I started crying as I made eye contact with fifteen of my family members standing with their hands above their heads screaming as loud as they could. We then filed into the seats where I laughed sitting next to my best friend since middle school, Jacob Pink. Meanwhile, my mother got into perfect picture taking position right in the center aisle– where no one else could stand but she’s good friends with the security and they knew not to mess with my mom on her baby’s day. As I walked up to the podium, I remembered what my mother said, “Make sure you only let Mr. Trundle say your name because he’s my friend and don’t give him your card until the person before you is all the way down the ramp. They’re going to get mad at you but I don’t care because we’ve worked four years for this.” So I smiled at Mr. Trundle and waited. As soon as they called my name, my fifteen family members jumped to their feet, set off confetti cannons and blew the airhorns. No one else had a celebration that could top that. I cried and laughed and felt so enveloped in support and pride.

Jackson’s Moment: He began tae kwon do as a timid five-year-old and that day, he sat with me in the backseat of my father’s car as a confident and undaunted ten-year-old. Jackson’s moment was when he got his blackbelt. He’d already completed the grueling fitness test and performed the intricate forty-seven step poomsae. Next, he had to successfully spar two individuals at once and complete several board breaks. My mother, father and I take our seats on the sidelines of the dojo as Jackson chooses his sparring partners for his final battle. Of course, Jackson chooses the most athletic sparring partners and as soon as they begin, we start coaching him. I’ve never been more excited to watch three ten to thirteen-year-olds fight. We cheered at every kick, high-five’d at every jab and yelled our fair share of “it’s alright”‘s at every misstep. When the buzzer rang, it was clear Jackson had won. We met him on the sidelines with head pats, hugs, an inhaler and lots and lots of water. Then, he was on to the board break. The entire dojo went silent. My parents had their phones out and I laid against the dojo mirror to get just the right angle for the perfect action shot. Instinctively, my brother glanced at my mother before the last of the board breaks to which we all replied in unison, “You got this Jack Jack!” As soon as his hand broke through that cinderblock, the silence broke as he beamed in pride and we mimicked right back. After half a thousand photos in the dojo, half a million outside, a celebration dinner at Jackson’s favorite restaurant and celebration ice cream at Jackson’s favorite ice cream parlor, we snuggled up for Jackson’s favorite TV show in my parents room. We spent the entire week just gushing about how strong and how cool our favorite little boy has become– and honestly, even though he hasn’t broken any boards this week, the gushing hasn’t stopped and I don’t think it will.

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