First, Sketchbook Anonymous

I gasped when I peeked into Christine’s sketchbook, a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors and eye-popping characters. Hoping to see more of her drawings, I eagerly tried to befriend her. Although Christine covered her sketchbook at first, she slowly let her guard down and opened it.

As we became closer, we would sit at our circular table in the cafeteria and talk about our common interests: drawing and social justice. Passionately identifying the micro-aggressions around us, she often asked for my view. I felt naturally indignant about those injustices, yet too shy and immature to express my opinion. Frustrated, I joined the speech and debate team to keep up with Christine. I competed as an expository orator to better articulate my ideas and a Lincoln-Douglas debater to polish my arguments.

Heavily involved in debate, I spent less time at our circular table with Christine. Although we were still friends, I only heard snippets of her life. So when I heard about her decision to forgo college, I was astonished. Knowing her potential, I was convinced that without a degree, her artistic talent would go unseen in this materialistic world. I needed her to go to college. I returned to the circular table. Surprised, Christine immediately...