The next two people I chose to highlight in this project are two of my peers. Brandon Duncan, who I met in the fall of 2024, and Caitlin Cox who has been a friendly face throughout college and, over time, has become my friend. One afternoon, while folding laundry, my father showed me Angela Duckworth’s Ted Talk on Grit. I must have been nine or ten years old at the time. Still, I gained assurance and insight into what it would take for me to pursue my dream of becoming a vet. Duckworth describes that grit is passion and perseverance for long term goals. What she didn’t explain in her TedTalk is that grit doesn’t always look the same in everyone. It isn’t always loud. Or linear. Or easily rewarded. Brandon and Caitlin have both shown me that.

 

Brandon wasn’t your traditional vet school applicant. He didn’t have a perfect GPA, and his confidence didn’t come from accolades or awards. But he always made space for others. He took the time to get to know me. One of our very first interactions was when he noticed my boathouse jacket and asked about the Virginia Tech Crew Team.

 

“Do you do crew?”

 

I explained that I do and that I am a coxswain on the Virginia Tech Rowing team. His eyes widened. 

 

“Really? With how hard our major is?” 

 

With the expression of shock on his face, it struck me that he wasn’t just shocked, but he was impressed. Brandon told me that he rowed in high school but couldn’t imagine doing it throughout college given how demanding our coursework can be. 

 

That moment stuck with me.

 

Until then, I hadn’t thought of my workload as something to be proud of. I’d been surrounded by engineers and pre-med students, and part of me must have internalized the idea that studying animals wasn’t “hard” enough to be impressive. At least, no one I surrounded myself with seemed to think it was. Brandon helped me see this differently. He acknowledged my effort when I couldn’t.

 

When Brandon got accepted to vet school this spring, something changed in him. Over the last several weeks, I’ve watched him grow into his confidence. Brandon is curious, kind, and personable. He reminds me that confidence isn’t always loud—it can be quiet, and grounded, and earned.

 

Caitlin is someone I used to compare myself to constantly. Admittedly, I was jealous. Her GPA is stellar, experience wide-ranging, handwriting so flawless that it could be a font on its own, and her confidence is unapologetic. Caitlin goes to every class, takes diligent notes, and has always been kind to me. When I wouldn’t go to class, she never judged me for asking for her notes. She never asked why I stopped going to class. But when I would go to class, I was always met with a smile and some comment regarding the daily minutiae of her life. 

 

I didn’t know Caitlin well then, but I felt the pressure of proximity and myself. We were always in the same spaces, the same labs, and her drive was hard to ignore. Over the past year or so, I’ve gotten to know Caitlin much more personally, and my perspective on her shifted from a place of comparison and envy to relatability and inspiration. We are much more similar than I had ever realized, and had I not spent so much time dwelling on myself and my perceived inadequacies, I’m almost certain that we would have become close friends much earlier. 

 

Something in Caitlin shifted this spring too. As we carpooled to labs and sat next to each other in classes, I watched her experience a full range of emotions from anxiety, hope, and grief. After applying to several vet schools, I watched as she received interviews, and later rejections. Through the way she carries herself, I felt like I was experiencing these emotions with her. I worried for her ability to navigate rejection, but what followed over the weeks after receiving rejections was nothing short of inspiring. Caitlin didn’t hide her disappointment, but she didn’t let it consume her either. Slowly, she started to reframe her future with curiosity and excitement. During our carpools, Caitlin talked about her potential life as a future vet student, to now talking about the relief she feels at not having to go to vet school next year. As hardworking as she is, we recognized the value of how breaks can be not only necessary, but transformative. 

 

That’s grit.

 

Getting to know Brandon and Caitlin more deeply, and watching them navigate this season of uncertainty, gave me room to reflect on my own path. I didn’t apply to vet school this cycle, and that gave me space to observe rather than compare. What I witnessed wasn’t just perseverance. It was vulnerability. The kind that allows people to be honest with themselves and with others.

 

Brandon’s calm presence and Caitlin’s emotional vulnerability reminded me that strength isn’t always about pushing forward. Sometimes, it’s about letting others see you exactly where you are. And choosing to keep going anyway.

 

I don’t discredit myself anymore for the effort I’ve put in. I’m learning to trust my own pace, and to honor the hard things I’ve worked through. I used to think grit meant never faltering. Never failing. Now I see that it involves staying open, even when things don’t go as planned. Thanks to both of them, I’m beginning to believe that I might have that kind of grit too.