I was born an only child on the 11th day of September in 1988 to Theodore and Marie Elizabeth Falkowski. Though I can't confess to remember those early years, I do remember being fortunate enough to meet Rebecca Marie Mordente on the first day of kindergarten in the year 1994. This was only the beginning of the incredible live I've had that I had so little to do with.
I can recall every one of my grammar school teachers at Lawton Elementary. In order they go: Ms. Martin, Ms. Bagley, Ms. Eaves, Ms. Thompson, Ms. Heights, and Ms. Armetta.
In kindergarten, Ms. Martin taught me how to be resilient when my classmates would steal my glasses and taunt me with them. In the first grade, Ms. Bagley humored me when I requested homework assignments from her, and we'd pass back and forth a composition book filled with journal entries. In the second grade Ms. Eaves pushed my grammatical boundaries, forcing me to read books beyond my comfort zone. In the third grade, Ms. Thompson ignited within my the math bug, teaching me multiplication tables and ensuring I joined a math group. In the fourth grade, Ms. Heights once accused me of cheating on a history (or maybe it was a science...) exam. Though I didn't, I never forgot how to pay careful attention to my work to ensure that every educator was certain it was my own. In the fifth grade Ms. Armetta showed me how to be kind, caring, and thoughtful. I still think of her 22 years later, and I will never forget how gentle and passionate she was.
As I progressed through school, I worked hard to make the honor roll and make my parents proud. They had ensured that my mother would be able to work part-time while I was younger, and I am certain that this fed into my ability to do well in school. After school got out, my mother would pick me up, preventing me from ever getting into the slightest bit of trouble. In the evenings, my parents would check my homework to be certain that I was on the right track. Though I didn't understand why then, my parents weren't thrilled with me getting any less than stellar grades. Now that I'm older, I'm certainly glad they did.
I have had the same best friend for the past 18 years. She is the same young lady that I mentioned at the beginning of this post, Rebecca. Throughout our childhood she was always the most present friend anyone could ask for. We would talk to each other on the phone when we both caught some yucky virus from school (before cell phones existed, and our parents' lines would ring busy for hours). We would beg our parents to play together every single afternoon, promising that we would finish our homework before the sun went down.
As the years went by, my parents continued to spend their time and money investing in my education. Without fail, as soon as we received a list of school supplies my mother would take me shopping, never shirking responsibility, always buying that box of tissues or baking that batch of cookies for the classroom. Though this is a simplistic example, I learned later that my parents had intricately planned so that they would be able to accomplish this during my childhood.
This continued throughout both middle and high school. My parents supported my love of dance, and allowed me to take both piano and guitar lessons. On Valentine's Day I had pink milk, on St. Patrick's Day I had green milk. On Easter I had an egg hunt, during the summer I enjoyed camp with dozens of my peers. On my birthday I got wonderful gifts, and the same goes for Christmas. On Halloween I was able to trick or treat for hours, and on Thanksgiving I had more than enough to give thanks for.
Further than this, I always had an incredible non-familial support system. My childhood friends were beyond amazing. They were my counterparts, my partners in "crime", and they ALL also had incredible parents, to boot. These friends and their families gave me second homes. I can swear that I was never in danger, not even for a millisecond.
When I began high school, my parents afforded me the opportunity to be on the dance team. They also bought me a brand new car before my 16th birthday. They found me my first job at a horse barn the summer after I turned that sweet age. I cleaned out stalls and turned horses out into their teardrop pastures, working as early as 6 a.m. the morning after the homecoming dance and on Christmas.
This first instance of employment gave me a tinge more work ethic. I was able to revel in the idea of manual labor and true responsibility. I fed not only the horses, but the resident cats, dogs, hogs, and miniature donkeys. I learned humility in work as I scooped up the not so pleasant lumps on the stall floors, dumping them into a compost mound.
From here, I worked at two jewelery stores and as a hostess and bus-girl at a restaurant. Thought I always felt I worked hard for the meager paycheck I earned, where would I have been without the work ethic that my parents instilled in me by the first grade, or without the car they bought me?
When I went off to Florida State, my parents paid for me to stay in an on-campus dorm with that same best friend, Rebecca. We had an amazing time and learned so much about ourselves. We pushed the boundaries and delved into the intricacies of young life. Our parents would always send money when we were short, always monitoring our spending patterns online.
After my sophomore year at FSU, I became frustrated. I was doing decently well in all of my classes, but wasn't finding a true passion. After changing my major from psychology to exercise science to biology to communications, I was exhausted. I eventually decided that I would just pick any random major, get a degree, and THEN figure it out. I ended up settling on merchandising. With this new major I had to take an introductory financial accounting course, and was shocked at how much I fell in love with it. To this day, I thank my lucky stars that I just so happened to choose the merchandising major so that I would end up in an accounting class. If I hadn't...who knows where I'd be.
After I took this intro class, I immediately switched my major to accounting. This class wasn't my only motivation, I had also recently become fascinated with my parents' ability to manage their funds so that they could support me so flawlessly. In any case, I ended up in the first important accounting class with the toughest professor in the FSU business school (I'm certain of it). The average grade in Financial Accounting & Reporting I was a D, and this professor was pulling down the average. I was terrified of him at first, but he taught me how to study and really learn accounting. I had him later for an Auditing course, and I still credit him for teaching me how to learn accounting and, eventually, passing the CPA exam.
Fast forward to 2011, I began a master's program at the University of Central Florida. I happened to take some amazing courses with even more amazing professors. They taught me how to really think about the financial sector and become a professional skeptic. I read constantly, and learned an immense amount.
When I was at Florida State in the accounting major I merely happened upon the organization, Beta Alpha Psi. I learned all about the public accounting profession, and the recruiting process. I begin attending events and was able to get into a two day leadership program in the New York office of two accounting firms I wanted to work for. At these events I was able to interview for internships, and then once I completed an internship at my current office I was offered a full-time position in my dream city.
As made evident throughout this post, I've not only been able to score a great job in the city I've always wanted to be in, but I deserve almost none of the credit. The large majority is due to my parents, some goes to my friends and their amazing parents, and the last bit was due to sheer luck. These reasons (and many more) serve as evidence for what I fight for.
All that I want anymore is to be immensely successful in life, but it's not so that I can eat caviar on the Hudson and hob nob with the rich and famous. I want to be successful because it's why I fight. I fight so that I can attempt to repay my parents even some portion of what they've given me for the past (almost) 24 years. I fight so that I can try to find a way to show my friends how important they are to me. I fight so that I can somehow help to make the dreams of children come true that weren't as amazingly fortunate as I have been. I fight because I owe it to all of the incredible people that always fought for me, and so should you.
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