No one knows how hard it is to remove engine oil from a school uniform. Junior year brings about new weight to the delicate back of the camel that is my work schedule. I woke up early and dressed in rags for the work to come. The truck required a new interior: the console, the seats, the instrument panel and the plastic coverings: all of it, gone. The new carpet had to be cleaned, the instrument panel needed to be placed together, but the console of the car, the plastic in the middle of the automobile, needed to be cleaned and placed first, as there is an order to what parts of the car were placed. The leather seats had to cleaned and wired to the truck, plastic coverings had to be placed around edges of the interior because they house various wires of varying importance. After placing the seats and console, the instrument panel could be placed, and the outer plastics could be placed. After hours of washing, repairing, and fixing, I got home at 11, resting the aching limbs to continue the next day. Why do I put myself through this? The thought remained in my mind as I closed my eyes, but others quickly arose after.

Today's struggle makes me yearn for a simpler time. Ever since I could remember, my brothers and I would go to work on the weekends. He owns a used car dealership, with the cars being recycled from salvages. Repairing these cars, of course, required multiple hands and thus workers were needed. For a while the business ran smoothly, with my Father having enough employees to even do general auto body work on the side. After 2008, however, we lost the garage that let him do so. Struggling to make ends meet, the few employees we had were laid off.   With a severe lack of employees, my brothers and I were put to do more than ever before. My Father thought it was fitting, as we were older then, so he expected more from my 3 brothers and me. My education expected the same. Joining and committing myself to debate took hours off my days, as even staying after school became a commitment when you live an hour away.  Just as much as school let me expand on my interests, it took away from my time assisting my Father.

So then why do I do any of this? My thoughts paused for moment as memories of early junior year and their warmth blanket my head. After judging a round of Debate, I began giving critiques and congratulating the debaters for being there. The two teams were ecstatic to hear what I had to say, and were very enthusiastic about the process, so I grew a bit fond of the debaters. Exiting the classroom, I asked one of the debaters what they enjoyed about debate as a sporadic way to start a conversation. She paused for a second, and then answered more seriously than how nonchalant I made out the question to be: "I think I like debate because it showed me that my voice could change the world around me".  To see other debaters that felt the same way as I do remind me of why I stay. When I was younger, evenings after school or work left me a lot of time to watch reruns of West Wing. The interests I've developed had accumulated over the years, through small avenues in the day. Seeing diplomacy at work reminded me of a well-oiled machine, only instead of running old cars, this one ran the nation. I clung to the idea that I could change the world around me-that I could live a life outside of intense physical labor. I realized that I could create a world where my parents didn't have to send money to their families, because they could be here, and a world where my uncle could retire, go to his homeland, and be able to return. I applied and attend a school that specializes in governance. There is where I found a place where I solidified those ideas.

Going through this was very calming.  My heads feels lighter than it was before, though the weight is still there. It is comforting, embracing these struggles as they make me who I am, rather than lamenting the pain that comes with them. The engine oil on my school clothes may still be there, but I am not going to wash it off.