When I began thinking about this project, the first person I reached out to was Michael Marciano. His background as a farrier, to now being in vet school and studying to become an equine veterinarian, would offer a unique perspective on the veterinary field, and I was right.

Michael was one of the first people I met in undergrad who was already blending two skill sets between his experience as a farrier and his passion for veterinary medicine. His dual expertise made me curious about how hands-on work, especially in equine podiatry, could translate into a long-term veterinary career. More than that, I sensed a groundedness in him that I wanted to understand better.

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Noah Goldfarb, on the other hand, has always stood out to me for a different reason. Noah is studying to specialize in exotic veterinary medicine, so I thought his experience and journey would provide invaluable insight into my project. I met Noah during my freshman year when he was the president of the pre-vet club. What I admired in Noah then, and still admire now, is his quiet confidence. He never has to speak loudly to be heard. He makes space for people, answers questions thoughtfully, and carries himself with clarity and self respect.

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When I sat down with Noah at the vet school commons, I asked what translated from his role as club president to being a vet student. He told me it was his ability to have difficult conversations and to navigate interpersonal conflict. These are skills most people learn the hard way, if they learn them at all. This reminded me of my own experiences handling conflict on the crew team. 

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Noah happens to be one of only two students in his class pursuing a specialization in exotic animal medicine. As he described the journey from hermit crabs and guinea pigs to snakes, turtles, and hedgehogs, it became clear that this interest was never a passing phase. It was a lifelong calling. His enthusiasm was not performative or rehearsed. It was real. It was undeniable.

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He pulled out a spreadsheet during our conversation—one that detailed nearly every hour of his experience in vet school so far. It listed goals, milestones, and measured steps forward. I do not think I have ever seen someone make ambition look so calm. Noah told me that his anxiety actually motivates him. The idea of missing an opportunity due to inaction is scarier to him than the discomfort of trying. That reframing shifted something for me. I had only ever seen anxiety as paralyzing. Noah helped me consider the possibility that it could be fuel too.

 

At one point in our interview, I showed Noah the introductory reflection I had written for this project. He read it quietly, then looked up and said, 

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“You’re a good writer.”

 

A few seconds later, he added, “Have you ever considered journalism?”

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I laughed and made a sarcastic comment about how journalism might be dead soon, and we moved on with the conversation. But his words stuck with me.

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Michael’s drive is no less inspiring, although it looks different. His leadership is quiet but deliberate. He does not just think ahead. He plans ahead. When I attended the laminitis workshop he organized, I learned that it had been over a year in the making. The lineup included veterinarians, specialists, and farriers, including Travis Burns, Chief of Farrier Services at Virginia Tech.

 

Watching Michael work alongside his mentor with such ease and mutual respect, I saw the kind of trust that can only come from years of collaboration. What many people may not know is that Travis Burns was the one who encouraged Michael to become a farrier in the first place. I had the opportunity to witness their dynamic firsthand during the summer I spent working at ACE.

 

It was a hot day, and the mares were lined up for trims. Travis arrived with Michael, his apprentice and colleague, and I was asked to help handle the horses. At one point, I haltered a horse and led her to a shady spot behind a shed. Without thinking much of it, I stood there with her, and waited for Travis.

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Travis approached me and said something I will never forget.

“If I were in charge, I’d put you in vet school right now.”

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I blinked. “For what, standing in the shade?”

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“Yes, in all my years of doing this, no one’s ever done that.” he said. 

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I shrugged and replied that it wasn’t even a question. The shade just made the most sense.

That small act, something I had done on instinct, which Travis felt was significant enough to bother mentioning and appreciating, ended up being one of the most validating moments of my summer. I had spent so much time feeling overlooked, especially by coworkers who doubted my abilities or dismissed my intuition. But in that moment, someone I respected saw me. Really saw me. Travis named something in me that others ignored, and he gave it value. These are the kinds of seemingly ordinary moments that have stay with me, and fuel my drive to keep going. It is the kind of moment that keeps you going when everything else feels uncertain.

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Both Noah and Michael are emerging leaders in their respective fields, and that was evident even in undergrad. I remember thinking even back then about how capable they were. But more than that, how grounded they remained. Their strength does not come from trying to impress anyone. It comes from deep humility, insatiable curiosity, and a genuine passion for the work they hope to do.

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They have reminded me that leadership is not always about being the loudest voice in the room. Sometimes it looks like setting up a workshop a year in advance. Sometimes it looks like calmly navigating a difficult conversation. Sometimes it looks like offering your time, your expertise, or your presence without needing recognition.

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What stands out in both of their stories, and in every profile I have written, is the role of mentorship. Everyone I interviewed has been shaped, in some way, by someone who believed in them. Someone who listened. Someone who cared.

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It only takes one person to change the way you see yourself.

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Noah and Michael are not just running the race. They are setting the pace. Where they see potential, they take the initiative to create opportunity. They understand that being a leader is not inherently tied to having any title, but that it is about embracing the risk of taking the initiative to try. Again and again.