It was the spring semester of my ninth grade year. I still remember being frantic for my first agriculture class of my high school career and feeling nervous, unsure and wondering if I even belonged. I was shy and quiet, but that would end up differently. I had no idea that behind one classroom door were the people who would change not just my school year, but the direction of my life.
When I walked inside, I expected just another class. Instead, I found a second home. My agriculture teachers and Scotts Hill FFA advisors were the first examples of true service I witnessed. They didn’t just teach; they invested. They stayed late, traveled early and cared about who we were becoming. They served with patience, correcting my mistakes, guiding me through speeches and reminding me that failure was only a lesson. They never asked for recognition, yet they gave everything they had. Through them, I learned that service isn’t loud — it’s steady.
The Scotts Hill FFA officers became my role models. They were the first faces I saw running meetings, organizing events and welcoming every member by name. I watched them lead with purpose — not for titles, but for people. They showed up early to prepare, and stayed late to clean when no one else was watching. They checked on members, offered kindness and encouraged us to try things we never believed we could do. Their service looked like leadership, but it felt like love.
Then there were the members — students just like me — who reminded me that service lives in everyday actions. Who knew that being in the same organization together would lead to some of the most unbreakable friendships?
I walked into FFA scared. But because of the service of my chapter, I didn’t stay that way.
It taught me that service is not always grand. Sometimes it’s a late-night text reminding you to keep going, a hand reaching out when you’re stressed or just a simple, friendly conversation. These advisors, officers and members didn’t just serve the community — they served me.
Now, as I proudly serve as the Scotts Hill FFA Chapter reporter, I finally understand what service truly means. It’s not about being seen; it’s about seeing others. It’s standing in the same hall I once walked down nervously, and being the person who smiles and says, “You belong here” to someone who needs it, just like I did. Because I was served, I now have a passion for serving others.
I used to think service had to be some big event — something planned, organized and announced. But now I realize it doesn’t have to be that at all. Service can be something as simple as asking ‘How are you doing?’ or a smile in the hallway.
For me, service was my chapter just being my chapter. It was my agriculture teachers checking in on me, officers encouraging me and members making me feel like I belonged. They never called it service — but that’s exactly what it was. And it changed everything for me.
