In the brightly colored halls of my elementary school, my classmates and I would brag about whatever meaning our names had.  I was extremely proud of my names, as each of them had a meaning I loved.  Sofia meant wisdom; I liked this because being “wise” or the “smart kid” was practically my entire identity, and it felt too perfect my name reflected that.  Monteleone translated to Mountain Lion in Italian, my dad’s heritage, which I liked because of the idea of the mountain lion: a large prowling wildcat, with the strength of a tiger, the stealth of a panther, and the agility of a cheetah.  My impression of them was that they were apex predators, top of the food chain. 

At my previous school, I saw myself as the academic apex predator of my class.  I'd been at the top through elementary and middle school, earning medals in almost every class at our end-of-the-year ceremonies.  It was a position that took minimal effort to maintain.  So upon enrolling at Indian Springs, a secondary school for 8th-12th graders, I was thrown into the deep end of twenty-seven other kids, most of whom were smarter, more creative, solved problems faster, read more, and did more extracurriculars than me.  To put it simply: they were better than me academically in almost every way.  

Nothing was going to be easy.  For what felt like the first time in my academic career, I struggled hard.  I was having trouble in almost all my classes-they were leagues more challenging than anything I’d taken before.  The perfect-student persona I thought I had was completely shattered, and I was faced with the reality that I wasn’t the “apex predator.” I was coming to grips with a sense of failure I hadn’t felt before.  I’d built up this idea that I was a perfect academic student: someone who sang in choir, played an instrument, and never had to rely on sports for extracurriculars.  But now there were kids who did all those things and more without breaking a sweat.  I felt like I was failing the names I’d always held so close to my identity.  

One morning during roll call in my Spanish class, my teacher called out my name: “Sofia Montaña de Leónes.”  I’d laughed, because “Sofia, Mountain of Lions” wasn’t the most sensible translation.  However, that reminded me of the meaning of my family name, leading me to research a bit on Mountain Lions.  I learned something about them I hadn’t known when I was younger: they weren’t always apex predators.  In fact, in some ecosystems, they would give up prey to stronger animals.  They weren’t this infallible, perfect creature always on top.  That reminded me of myself; after years of feeling beaten down by academic pressure, I came to the understanding that there was no way I could be the apex predator I’d set my expectations on.  Instead, I could do what I genuinely enjoyed and do my best without worrying whether I was better than my peers.  Mountain Lions, even without being the apex predator, were strong and adaptable animals, still vital to their ecosystems. 

I can’t be perfect, and it isn’t healthy for me to expect that of myself, but I can adapt to my surroundings, and work hard to do what I want.  I have stood strong in the face of challenges, pushed myself to improve on weak subjects, enhanced subjects I love, and learned fascinating new things, too.  I feel so much more confident about myself and my academic success now than any time when I thought I needed to be “perfect.”  I’ll be able to fully embrace the “college experience” outside academics, the various cultural and career opportunities, with the goal of communal cooperation rather than comparing myself or trying to outperform my peers, now fully appreciating that life is more complex and valuable than any grade.