A few years ago, specifically before 4th grade, my dedication in completing assignments began to sore away. Teachers would gently nudge me about my unfinished homework, but consequences were a distant concern. Then came the group project, an exploration into the history of Native Americans. Four of us were tasked with crafting a test of knowledge and research on a digital canvas of 12 slides. As naive as I was, I regarded it as just another task, one that didn't need my full dedication.

As the days went by, the presenting day approached with a longing inevitability. Time slipped through my fingers like shifty grains of sand, leaving me a mere 4 minutes during recess to assemble my three slides. Amidst the presentation, after nine slides had uncurled, the final three came into view, bearing my name like an echo of my negligence. The verdict was unforgiving: 0 out of 20, scratched into the palm of my mental academic record. The feelings were different this time. My teacher's patience had been depleted, and a meeting was issued for my parents, a meeting to disassemble the roots of my horrible work habits. It was within this first act of accountability that I truly understood the art of hard work and diligence.