From elementary school to middle to high school, every teacher should tell you the same thing; dream big. They should tell you to reach for the stars and don’t let anything get in your way. But that’s hard when you’re six years old and don’t want to grow up to be a Princess like all your other friends. It’s hard when you’re the kid who would rather read a book then watch Cinderella. And for the most part, I think that’s where I lost myself because I convinced myself it wasn’t okay to be different. So, I shoved my love for science deep down and told myself, I’ll just be average and that would be enough. But I always knew I wanted to save lives, I knew who I wanted to be.

As I grew up, I stopped reading, I stopped admitting school was my favorite part of the day and I stopped believing in myself. If you were in honors classes, you tried too hard. And if you were in basic classes, you were dumb. So, I settled, and that was something I never should’ve done. Now, as a college freshman, I realize the world isn’t going to settle for average. You only get one chance to be happy, and at the end of the day, I know I won’t be happy unless I have Dr. written in front of my name.

After four years of college, you’re supposed to be done with education. It’s a degree, but it’s the farthest thing from the end for a med student. Those four years are the starting line. It’s at that four-year University where a student will take Biology, Chemistry, Anatomy and so on. But it’s not where they’ll learn how to stop a bleed or save a life. That’s the next chapter, in the next eight or so years in med school, where the competition to exceed averagely continues.

Most think medicine is something you're born into. For example, if your parents are world class surgeons then there’s a good chance you will be too. But, what happens to those kids who grow up average? Do they have a chance for success? Well, that’s up to them, and that’s the choice I’ve made. I’ve gone against the grain and decided for myself, this is the start of my greatness.

Every morning like most, I don’t want to get up for a class at 8 AM, but then I have that moment of clarity. A picture of what my life could be if I get dressed, brush my teeth, and learn something that day. There’s only 24 hours, 1,440 minutes, 86,400 seconds in a day to be better than average. I learned that lesson a little late in life, but no one said you have to be the kindergarten med school prodigy to succeed.

Everyone has a chance at greatness, and it’s yours if you want it. I’ve accepted my fate, and because of that I’m one step closer to wearing the white coat, and saying, “Push one of EPI.”