How Nemo Changed My Life

Nemo had lost his leg, but he would never lose his spirit. He was a stubborn kitten. Even after a cruel truck driver had flippantly run over the innocent creature, he had fought tooth and nail against death, leading to his miraculous recovery and boundless energy. In fact, he insisted on following the older cats around, despite never being able to quite keep up. He was constantly falling off the furniture or stumbling into other's way. Nonetheless, Nemo was the only one who didn’t pity himself for his handicap; he simply ignored it and continued on. I felt an instant connection with the tiny kitten.
As an animal lover, I would have loved Nemo regardless, simply for the virtue of his existence. Still, I recognized that our kinship was based on more than standard affection: we both understood the feeling of being handicapped. While Nemo’s handicap was clear to all, my handicap was less obvious–it was my age. One of the hardest parts of being a kid is that most adults do not take you seriously. Your lack of experience immediately makes you seem inferior, so your contributions and thoughts are blatantly ignored based solely on your youth. As ardently as you want to make an impact, you are taught that you simply

The reasoning made sense; animals can be unpredictable and children are harder to train. In practice, however, I felt discarded, unable to contribute due to something utterly out of my control. I couldn’t help but believe that if there was an entire group of students who wanted to help, it seemed like a clear waste of their drive to simply turn them away. Teenagers never even had the chance to explore their passions before they were shuffled into a set path. I wanted to believe that anyone could be an advocate for their beliefs, even if the road seemed paved by