Like everyone, I’m a work in progress.

I remember that during the time before Provincials, and even Regionals — I didn’t feel any different.

I remember in previous years, I felt a pit in my stomach, I could feel the depth of what I’m about to do. That was sort of reassuring in some ways, it showed me that I really cared about what I was doing and wanted to do it well.

That feeling didn’t come this year, and this hasn’t just applied to DI.

Do I still care?

That question has been circling around in my head a lot as of late. I used to have these “side effects” from caring — which were a bit annoying at the time, but also extremely reaffirming.

They showed me that I cared.

When they disappeared, that’s when the question came alive: Do I still care?

As Provincials approached, we were in a funny spot. We didn’t have much pressing work to do other than some minor improvements.

Above: Cole and Griffin hot gluing our cardboard weight together.

We got everything that we had to get done done, but there was still a lot that we could’ve done.

A lot that we didn’t.

Whether that be more table reads, going over the story with the group again, improving the more lacklustre elements of our solution.

We had the opportunity to do all of these things, and our solution would have only benefited from them. 

As we finished presenting our solution, I felt crushed. Instant regret over not having done those minor improvements I had thought of earlier filling my head. I analyzed all of my own shortcomings in it for quite a while.

When we later gathered for the awards ceremony, I was filled with uncertainty. I was uncertain about how my team would score, and if my legs would ever work again after sitting on the uncomfortable gym floor for 45 minutes.

We won. 1st place.

As we sat back down with our medals and trophy in hand, I knew that I did still care.

Whether I like to admit it or not, I put a lot of myself into DI this year.

And so did Griffin, Lucas, Jack, Cole. We built something together — and even though it wasn’t perfect, it mattered.

Looking back, I don’t just feel proud of what we made.

I feel proud that I still care.

Because maybe caring quietly is still caring.

Maybe it just looks different when you grow.