More Than a Decoration by Kaylee

More Than a Decoration by Kaylee - January 2026 Scholarship Essay

Resting above my closet door, a black and blue license plate serves as a silent reminder to keep pushing forward. It reads: “Set Your Goals High and Don’t Stop Till You Get There.” It was a simple childhood Christmas gift, something that started as a decoration, but over time became my personal motto.

I was eight when I first read those words, and I thought they were only about basketball. That same year, I entered the Elks National Free Throw Contest, a nationwide basketball competition for kids aged eight to thirteen. I practiced every night at our local gym, determined to reach the national round in Chicago. My first year, I made it to regionals, but I fell short of advancing. I was devastated. My chest stung, and my eyes burned. Not only did I miss out on Chicago, but I felt I had let down the very words staring at me from above my closet door.

That disappointment became the moment when I discovered a new strength in myself: perseverance.

But I didn’t stop. I kept practicing. I spent late nights in the empty gym, the rhythmic bounce of my free-throw routine breaking the silence. I felt at peace in that space, not leaving until I met my goal of made free throws for the night. When I was ten, my persistence paid off. I reached nationals in Chicago and placed sixth in the country. It wasn’t the victory I once dreamed of, but the experience shifted my perspective. I realized the quote wasn’t only about winning but about how far determination and perseverance could take me when I set my goals high.

Looking back, I see that the license plate was never only about basketball. At eight, I thought “setting my goals high” meant making every shot and winning every contest. Now, I know those words reach far beyond the court. They’re there in my schoolwork, when I redo a physics lab to get it right, or memorize a hundred vocabulary words, even when my brain begs for a break. They show up in relationships, too, where setting goals means showing up consistently, listening even when it’s inconvenient, and taking responsibility when I’ve fallen short. I strive to be someone others can count on, whether that’s celebrating their successes or helping them through setbacks.

More importantly, I’ve come to understand that pushing forward isn’t always public or flashy. It’s in the quiet moments: choosing to study late at night for a test I’m nervous about, or leading a group project when I’d rather stay in the background. It’s about bouncing back from setbacks and seeing them not as failures but as steps toward growth.

Growth, I’ve learned, isn’t always shown by first place. Rather, it’s about choosing to keep going when no one’s watching. At eight, I believed my story ended at regionals. At ten, I thought it ended in Chicago. Now, I know my story never truly ends, because I don’t stop at one finish line; instead, I set higher goals.

The license plate above my closet hasn’t moved. The quote hasn’t changed. But I have. What began as a simple childhood gift, something I saw as a decoration, has shaped how I approach everything: from free throws to friendships, from exams to dreams that feel out of reach. Whether I’m on the court, in the classroom, or building my future, I’ll keep setting my goals high, and I won’t stop till I get there.