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QB’s 2016 Summer Interns Share Their Wildly Personal Essays
Each year at Quintessential University—our summer internship program—six interns step inside the workings of our firm and then take on assignments. Our tradition is to assign each intern to write a “wildly personal essay” that is a chance to learn about taking risks—going public so to speak—under the watchful eye of an editor. This summer Ariel Majewski (who attended the intern program last year) returned to work with us full-time over the summer and demonstrated thoughtful skill in guiding our interns through the writing and editing of these essays. We hope you like the results.
Facing the Future
by Sutton Rettig
When the opportunity to intern with QB surfaced, I knew I could use it as an outlet to grow as a writer and gain knowledge about print media, and I could not be more grateful for my experience with this magazine. I’d like to take a moment to thank you. I cannot begin to explain how much each intern values your time and commitment to this internship and how much we appreciate the knowledge that you have passed on to us.
All of us are forced to overcome adversity in some form or another throughout the course of our lives. I was born with Cerebral Palsy (CP) and I am required to constantly make decisions that not every 20-year-old is forced to make. For example, at the end of each semester of the school year, I need to make sure the distance between each of my classes is not too long of a commute because an excess amount of walking is strenuous on my muscles. I have fine motor issues, which requires me to wear sneakers with elastic shoelaces because I have difficulty tying laces. I also need to put extra effort into school assignments such as oral reports because the clarity of my speech is impaired. With all in mind, I was very fortunate to have been raised by a great mother who taught me that I can overcome all hurdles as long as I remain focused and keep a positive attitude, and took that message to heart. I view my disability with a level of optimism; it has taught me to treat adversity as a method of building character.
A number of things terrify me when I assess what the future holds given I have CP, which damages the portion of the brain that operates muscle function. As a result, I walk with an impaired gait pattern. My speech is also effected by CP and I sometimes struggle with enunciating words. Overall, my life has been full of adversity due to CP, and there has been added pressure to face obstacles head on, as opposed to dodging them or throwing myself a pity party. Having this approach to life is a sign of weakness that leads you nowhere. I feel that having a disability should not dictate the perspective you have on the world.
At an early age, I realized that having CP would involve certain trials and tribulations which I must overcome. In consecutive summers during high school, I needed two leg operations, one a bilateral hamstring lengthening, and the other a de-rotation osteotomy of my femur and tibia, and I was petrified to undergo both procedures. However, I understood these surgeries were critical if I had any hopes of simply walking around in the future. I ultimately ended up checking my fear at the door of Children’s Memorial Hospital, viewing these experiences as an opportunity to grow.
Following the operations, I was stationed at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago, where I endured between four or five hours of physical therapy every day for multiple weeks, constantly using treadmills, stair masters, and stationary bikes in an effort to recover as quickly as possible. For all the knowledge I gained about proper rehabilitation techniques, I learned even more about the value of perseverance, commitment, and work ethic. During the times when I wanted give up on my exercise regiment, my mom and older brother served as a source of motivation. I wanted to repay them for their unconditional support throughout my journey, so I remained focused on my recovery. I also reminded myself that quitting would elevate the likelihood of being confined to a wheelchair like so many others living with Cerebral Palsy, and I wanted to avoid that reality at all costs.
The most frightening aspect of looking ahead is learning to effectively grow as a professional. Even on occasions when I stress about the potential challenges that await me, I remind myself that fear acts as the engine that powers our ability to overcome adversity. At the time of my birth, doctors felt that, based on my condition, I’d be unable to live the same life of a regular individual, predicting this disability would eviscerate my ability to walk and dramatically impair my ability to speak with clarity.
In an odd sense, it is comforting to reminisce about that idea because, while the future can be scary at times, it shall never infringe any expectations I have for myself as a person. I relish the idea of getting the most out of life, and believe it is crucial to properly handle any hardships I will face, CP-related, or otherwise.
The Way of the Nerd
by Leah Rose Drennan
My mum has told me stories about the boisterous little girl I once was. How I locked my brother and myself in the car and refused to open the door for the police, because nobody could interrupt my “Rugrats” time. And how I marched around correcting my fellow dancers’ moves though I resembled a small elephant rather than a graceful ballerina. As a kid I was involved in drama club, choir, dance, dreaming of becoming a palaeontologist, Egyptologist, biologist, or a cowgirl. I would have been happy with any of them.
As the seventh of eight kids, I endured my siblings’ constant teasing about my interests, which I unfortunately took to heart. Children always look up to their older siblings, and hearing them make fun of me for performing in plays and prancing around a stage took its toll. I became withdrawn. I quit dance and drama, and I read about adventures rather than going on them.
Then in middle school, I began to feel lost amongst my siblings. Teased about the interests I did have, the vast personalities of my five brothers and two sisters were stifling. Unsure how to standout, I compiled a list of all my siblings’ favourite interests, academic pursuits, and activities, from computer science to Pink Floyd. After considering what they were interested in, I reinvented myself.
The outcome: a huge nerd.
I began to read countless comic books, often on the bus and tucked into a corner so the other kids wouldn’t see what I was reading and mock me. I tried everything I could think of to make myself standout which, coupled with the usual middle school drama and attitude, made for a difficult three years.
In high school, my constructed list of interests stopped being about making myself unique and instead about becoming who I was. It felt right. I found great friends who watched anime and killed zombies with me on the weekends and that acceptance reassured me. I convinced my parents to let me take martial arts classes (because I wanted to fight like Batman) and started teaching myself Elvish and Klingon. I gave a speech in class on the history of Batman’s Robins (yes, there is more than one Robin—six in fact). Despite some students laughing at me, I was thrilled to be talking about something I loved. As I followed the way of the nerd, I accepted that it didn’t matter if someone mocked my interests. I could insult them in two fictional languages. Llie n’vanima ar’ lle atara lanneina.
Moving to St. Petersburg, Florida for college, however, is where I found myself. With no parents or brothers and sisters to fall back on, it was up to me to make friends and step outside my comfort zone. This became much easier after I learned one of the most import rules of college: no one will judge you for being who you are, and the ones who do aren’t worth acknowledging. This simple truth is what gave me the confidence to be who I wanted to be, and if people gave me some strange looks for wearing a Charmander onesie to class, they weren’t going to stop me because I was just too comfortable to care.
Confidence boosted, my heart no longer beat out of my chest at the prospect of being called on in class, or the idea of answering a phone call. Last January, I even spent a month in Italy despite not knowing any Italian. Best decision of my life. Looking back, it’s comic how awkward I was talking with my fellow college freshman. Especially after overcoming the language barrier that tried to keep me from my panini.
This summer I decided to give the dance floor another go, and though it’s a lot of fun pretending I’m a graceful dancer, I still more closely resemble a small, but determined elephant.
Learning to Lead
by Kate Ahern
Nervous, unprepared, intimidated, and hopeful are all words to describe my feelings as a 17-year-old headed to a journalism leadership conference in Washington, D.C. this past June.
My mom has always told me I should be a lawyer or a politician, anything that would benefit from my stellar argumentative skills. Sibling arguments are truly my time to shine, my strong suit is shifting the blame from myself to my sister, Ally. I’ve also mastered the skill of convincing her that I should have priority with our shared car. Many people know that this is not an easy task.
As a little girl, I was taught to be friends with people from all different places and not to identify with one certain group. This lesson taught me to appreciate and understand the different ways people respond to leaders. Strong leaders may threaten some people, which results in discord. Other people appreciate direction and instruction, which leads to harmony. My mom always encourages my sister and me to be individual leaders and never accepts “But Ally did it too!” as an excuse. I used to think that leadership was a skill that cannot be taught, but rather one that you are born with.
My definition of a leader had always been, “an individual without fear of being unique, someone who isn’t afraid to go against the status quo”. During my time at the conference held at American University, I learned that there is much more to being a leader than that.
Fifteen hours of intense leadership sessions later, I’ve come out with a new and improved personal definition for leadership. To me, a leader is someone who exudes confidence, is not afraid of stepping out of their comfort zone, speaks without filler words, and represents where they come from and who they want to become. I now know that leadership is something that can be taught.
Each leadership session held different opportunities for all different types of leaders. A room full of strangers turned into a room full of able and motivated people willing to work side by side. I saw the way that appreciating everyone’s different abilities changed the dynamic of the group. My mom’s advice was right.
My favorite leadership activity was in the mock newsroom. A group of 10 of us, from all different backgrounds and places, had three hours to put together a full newscast that included breaking news, social media, written stories, B-Roll (B-roll is footage separate from the regular newscast), and interviews.
I was able to interview, write, edit, and collaborate with my group members to produce a three-minute newscast. Running to different press conferences staged by the staff members and interjecting weighty questions pushed me far out of my comfort zone and brought new and important information to our newscast.
The purpose of this mock-newsroom was to create a breaking-news like scenario in which we all had to face the pressure and stress of a tight deadline and working together as a team. Our story was about an outbreak of contaminated food resulting in people falling ill. We interviewed “the head” of the meatpacking company, “victims” of the illness, “the head” of the “VEG”, and a “representative” of the grocery store that sold the contaminated meat.
In the end, we had created Twitter and Instagram accounts that were complete with live status and photo updates, two written news articles, one B-Roll segment, two live field reporting segments, and introductions and closing statements given by our inexperienced, yet very talented anchors.
Alongside of the daily leadership sessions all 50 of the communication students participated in a specific three-hour class of their choosing. I signed up to do the professional news writing class where we learned valuable skills with Excel and how to create data tables on the website “Silk”. As our final project, we had to write a current events story of our choice complete with an interview, direct quotes, data, a link to a primary source document, and a photo or info graphic. I chose to write about the rising debate over free college and learned quite a bit through my research and interviews. We were able to publish our final product to teenobserver.com and present it to the entire communications group of students and staff.
In a high-pressure and high-intensity situation, some people find themselves breaking down in the midst of all the action. This 10-day experience taught me the necessary leadership skills that are required to become successful in my academic and professional life. I’ve learned skills with new software, the art of the interview, and how to work with all different types of people.
Necessary, influential, fundamental, and powerful are now the words I use to describe the importance of leadership skills. One word to describe the beginning of my leadership journey: extraordinary.
Lost Boy in Aisle Three
by Adam Bieda
I was six years old the first time I got lost in Jewel-Osco. A hypnotic maze on the back of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch box lured me away from my mom. When I reached the end of the printed labyrinth, though, I realized she had moved past the cereal aisle and was nowhere in sight. With a panicking heart, I began making random turns down every other aisle. I had this feeling that I was never, ever going to find my mom. Ever.
The more lefts and rights I took, the more my aimless turns became a fun wandering. I remember being surprised that my mom never seemed to get lost when she went grocery shopping. When I got to the singing birthday cards, there was a voice from 10 feet above. An employee asked, “Kid, where are you going all alone? Are you lost?”—instantly ruining the fun.
While I no longer get lost in grocery stores—at least most of the time—I’m still frequently asked where I’m going with my life. Except now the question is, “What are you going to do with an English degree?” and the inquisitor’s eyes ask, “Are you lost?”
My new maze has become the uncertainty of following happiness over security and wandering away from my parents’ footsteps in the grocery aisles of life.
Uncertainty is a quiet anxiety about the future, and it seems I grew up in a generation that is uncertainty-averse. We have a habit of googling questions from, “How do I make hard-boiled eggs?” to “What is a black hole and are we in danger?” If we are uncomfortable with in-person conversations, we hide behind texts. When change seems daunting, we fall into regimented routines.
My generation has allowed a fear of the unknown to control our every move. As a result, we tend to model our lives to be like our parents. After all, our parents have been finding their ways around the grocery store for a long time, and they know their route.
Both of my parents come from suburban neighborhoods. Both studied finance in college. Their first jobs were in insurance and sales. They settled in my dad’s hometown, Arlington Heights, and had four children. When four kids made the house feel cramped, they moved us out to Inverness.
I’ve been exposed to the family security plan of business-related employment my whole life. Naturally, to minimize the uncertainty of my future, I started freshman year of college as an economics major. The aisles of our family’s grocery stores seemed very similar.
However, living without my parents while at college gave me the opportunity to develop my own preferences, instead of staying contained in a parentally-ascribed comfort zone. I began to write more often and joined a sketch comedy group, called Slow Children at Play, straying far from my nonexistent interests in finance. Crunching numbers just doesn’t provide the same catharsis as crafting a short story.
I was happier, having more fun, doing what I wanted to do. I eventually changed my major to English, despite being warned that if I chose to follow these passions after college, I would not have “security.” Cue the “Are you lost?” eyes.
Despite encountering it all the time, I’m not an expert on the facing of uncertainty—wouldn’t even claim novice status. I used to let insecurity dictate many of my decisions, as so many people do. But I started to enjoy my life more as soon as I let happiness empower my decisions.
Like the employee who “rescued” me in the grocery store, the well-meaning inquisitor who oh-so-often asks me what I want to do with my English degree will then predictably offer a solution to my “problem.”
However, I’ve come to appreciate uncertainty. Doing so forces me to experience life as it is—for myself. It allows me to make my own decisions and not mimic past decisions made by my parents.
Regardless of my grand resolution, I still face uncertainty imposed by my wonderful inquisitors. Do I still get sidelong glances telling me I am making a bad decision by pursuing writing? Yes. Do people tell me that I should look into other careers? All the time. Am I happy with pursuing my passion over someone else’s sense of security? Always. Am I a little nervous? Yeah, I guess, but who isn’t?
The Curtain Calls
by Braden Kobeski
Butterflies. That knot in my stomach that makes my arms droop to my sides and each of my limbs feel as if they are being pulled to the ground like a slowly stretching taffy. I stand in complete darkness that makes the butterflies fly faster than before, more rapid, out of control. How will the crowd respond? Why did I ever think I could do this? Wait… What’s my first line?!
Then the lights flooded the stage.
Acting had first come into my life when my brother started performing in shows at William Fremd High School in Palatine. He would come home late at night as a stranger to me. Layers of makeup would stain his face and alter his features from the dozens of rehearsals he endured from the weeks prior. It wasn’t until I saw him perform on stage that I understood why he liked to act. The ability to captivate audiences by pretending to be someone else was a talent I wanted to learn. I was only six when I saw him in my first theatre performance “Les Misérables”. A musical about Jean Valjean, a man trying to make a new life for himself in a place unknown. I started high school several years later with a fresh start in a new place.
I joined drama club at the start of high school. I quickly learned, however, that acting wasn’t as easy as my brother had made it seem years earlier. Most kids become anxious their freshman year of high school. I found that to be true when I went out and faced the entire school dressed as a boy from the 1900s wearing a wool sweater vest and bright red lipstick for my first play. My voice quavered as hundreds of eyes watched my every twitch.
After that first performance, I was on edge for a while trying to fit in at school. I was an actor every week; I just didn’t know it. One week I would be the nerd who would raise his hand for every question in class, while the next week I would play the shy guy who avoided social interaction as best he could.
I started to talk with my directors and the upper classmen to ask them about what I could do to become a better actor. I took in every piece of feedback that I was given. Freshman year spilled over into sophomore year. Then sophomore year became junior. More auditions yielded more experience. Junior year, for the first time I felt like I had made progress.
I was cast as the lead role for our Group Interpretation. Group Interp, or GI, is a 30-minute play in which the actors have no props, no individual costumes, and everyone must face the audience throughout the duration of the act. Our show was “The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo,” a farce about a British man wheeling his dead uncle around Monte Carlo to collect 10 million dollars. So… typical.
Six weeks of late nights at rehearsal brought back memories of when my brother would walk in the door of our house exhausted. We practiced our movements until they were choreographed perfectly to each line of the show. The day of sectionals, we placed second and headed to the state finals in Springfield, Illinois. And yet, when the day came to perform in front of the judges a second time, I still felt as if we could have done more. So many lines to be looked over, accents to be perfected. My brother was my inspiration to start acting and the reason why I worked hard to make it to state. No other cast had ever won GI for Fremd High School.
Waiting for the results could have been the closest I had been to feeling the world stop in time. Our director walked into our waiting room with her head to the floor and her eyes in shock. Her head slowly came up to see the look on our faces before grinning wide, breaking her poker face. The cruelest joke made at the best time.
I knew then I had made the right choice to join drama and to keep trying to become a better actor. My body jolted as the world began to move again, and the butterflies flew free. We had won state.
Wrestling with Life
by Michael Lurz
Growing up in school was difficult for me as I had a speech impediment. Pronouncing words that ended with “ink” or any that started with “s” were the most difficult. Nothing made me more nervous than when the teacher asked me a question. More than half the time I had to overthink their questions as I knew my peers were watching me.
Eventually, the school gave me an aid to help me in the classroom. I felt that the help was great, but it made me feel isolated from my peers. Unfortunately, my inner self told me that keeping up with them was out of the question. Instead of getting frustrated, I began to daydream during the school day. I felt compelled to rebel against the idea of tests and grades telling us how smart we are as students.
The only time I did not feel a sense of rebellion was when I was being taught history. Discussing the Civil War and World War II made learning seem fun. However, even in that class I needed help. Part of me did not want an aid by my side, but I am glad that Mrs. Kelleher, who was my aid in school for several years was there. The number one thing I learned from this experience growing up was that we should never be afraid to ask for help.
This life lesson was reiterated for me one day in the fall of 2006, when my older brother Kyle strongly advised me to try wrestling. So the next day I talked to Coach Bryson, and he said I could come to practice later that day. In the cafeteria, there would be two mats with each one being about the width of a truck which intimidated me at the time. We had to unroll them, align them together, and then tape them to make it a full square with a white circle in the middle.
Wrestling my first year was a learning experience as my losing record on junior-varsity showed. Then the next season as an eighth-grader, I qualified for the IESA State Tournament while wrestling up a weight class. It was hosted at Northern Illinois University. What I will remember the most from that tournament was walking out into a big gym and seeing eight mats that illuminated under the lights.
The sport taught me that you will never improve if you do not ask for help when you need it. In high school, my freshmen and sophomore years went okay, but I was not satisfied. However, my junior and senior years I met my satisfactions by winning several varsity tournaments for Barrington High School. This was because I knew that in order to improve at this sport, I needed to practice and ask for help. Although practicing and asking for help from my coaches was imperative, competing against the best in the country in the offseason was also.
My dad and I drove to a national tournament in Michigan, and two national tournaments hosted at the University of Northern Iowa. Out of the three, I only placed top eight at one of them. However, I thought competing against the best was much more important than winning easier tournaments. This was never truer than the time I was getting ready to compete against a wrestler from Iowa City, Iowa, that was ranked fifth in the country at the time.
The goal for me to win was simple: move him in ways where I can get his legs and arms on the mat. Executing the plan against him was another story. I lost, but did not give him an easy win because I was ready for that match and had a positive mindset going into it.
While competing against the best in the country, I have learned that you cannot always get what you want, but you have a much better chance if you do what you are supposed to—and then a little extra.
My personality and mindset toward success in life is highly influenced by my experiences with wrestling. Now at Illinois State University, I ask for help a lot from my teachers. With only one year left there, I will soon have to do so in the workplace. Not asking for help is the most common mistake that can keep people from reaching their goals in life.