Senior Essay 16

Growing up, I witnessed how my Hispanic family carries a quiet, constant uncertainty rooted not only in financial hardship but also in questions of safety, stability, and belonging. As the child of low-income immigrant parents, I learned early that safety and stability were not guaranteed—they were things quietly prayed for and rarely discussed. As a child, I didn’t recognize this uncertainty for what it was. I thought lining up at food drives was just part of everyone’s weekly routine. My siblings and I would run in and out of the house, unloading everything and secretly hoping we’d gotten chips. Some of my favorite memories were spent in thrift stores, where I played with secondhand toys, not knowing that moments like that would provide me with a strong sense of empathy.
I believe most Hispanic families understand this quietness, especially those navigating life in a low-income household. It’s a shared language of sacrifice spoken between the noise of everyday life. But within that noise, soccer has always been a constant for me. It’s been all around me since I was young—from my dad to my brothers. When I officially started playing in 8th grade, I felt like I was late. But soccer didn’t care that I started late. It welcomed me. It built a community around me.
Now a senior, I’ve played varsity soccer for four years and serve as team captain. Soccer has given me discipline, teamwork, and perseverance. More than that, it’s shown me what community can look like when people show up for one another.
My first step toward leadership grew from something I love. When my high school coach suggested a summer soccer camp for younger kids in our community, I jumped at the opportunity. Together, we worked out schedules and recruited help to bring the idea to life. The camp brought in dozens of children. For one week, the field wasn’t about competition; it was simply a place to experience joy. Watching kids chase a ball and laugh together healed something inside me. I’d glance over at the parents’ section. They were people who took time out of their day, some still in business attire, others in construction clothes, just like my dad. Seeing their excitement as they watched their kids play, being part of something organized and positive in our community, reminded me why this mattered. On that field, we built something rare, a community where love for the sport was the only goal.
Dreams are made every day. Being able to be part of a growing community where an organized soccer camp is possible makes me think: what other big things could I be part of? Or begin?
I’ve observed that a large number of Hispanic parents arrive ready to help their children but are apprehensive, not knowing where to go, what to ask, or how to handle anything. They reminded me of my own parents. I therefore made it a point to be there, to translate when necessary, to keep things simple, and to greet them the way I wish someone had greeted my parents upon their arrival. It made me realize that being a leader is much more than just helping kids succeed on the field; it’s also about making their families feel like they belong.