Leah Knobler Listen to Leah read her essay. Read Leah's biography. Leah Knobler "Oh Jonah, play the piano for us!" they cried. "No, recite the periodic table of elements instead!" Okay, so maybe nobody asked him to recite the periodic table of elements, but the fact of the matter is… he could have done it had they asked. "Jonah, go play the piano and sing for our guests," requested my mother. On June 5, 1999, our house was filled with relatives, friends, and other members of the "Jonah Knobler Fan Club" for my brother's graduation party. After all, he was the valedictorian. He did ace the ACT. And he was going to attend Harvard in the fall. The spotlight, as usual, was on him. And how did I feel? Having an older brother like mine, I often get asked, "How does it feel to be Jonah's younger sister?" Most people assume my answer will be filled with self-pity: "My life has been awful because I can never measure up to what he achieves and I will always be stuck in his shadow." But the truth is different. I genuinely respond, "Jonah is one of a kind and living with him has been an experience I wouldn't trade for anything." Growing up with my anything-but-average brother has impacted me significantly. Just as younger siblings often look up to their older brothers or sisters, I, too, look up to Jonah. I try to emulate some of his characteristics, but I'm a distinctly different person - and proud of it. Jonah's most obvious strength is his academic ability. I admire the effort and determination he puts into schoolwork as well as the results he achieves. Although I can never come close to his abilities, I strive to do my best in school. However, watching Jonah focus so much of his high school career on academics has motivated me to seek a better balance in mine. I witnessed first-hand how Jonah had to win awards and contests in order to feel good about himself. I saw his disappointment and panic if he dropped below an A on any assignment. My brother's single-minded pursuit of academic perfection left him unhappy and a little lonely. Despite his genius, he was insecure. I wanted none of this for myself. I wanted my confidence to be rooted inside, instead of from external accolades. I stepped out of his shadow and made his weaknesses into my strengths. Living with Jonah has taught me there's more to life than the results of standardized tests and awards. I purposely sought balance in my life among academics, athletics, and friendships. I've been on two varsity sports teams (captain of one) and served on Student Council for three years while maintaining a high honor roll GPA. I work 12 hours per week and still make time for my friends. But sometimes I find a moment in my busy schedule to daydream the following scenario: Two years have passed since Jonah's graduation party. Harvard-man is home for spring break. I'm a senior now and captain of the lacrosse team, so I invite him to the qualifying game for the state tournament. It's tied with only a few minutes remaining on the clock and I score the winning goal. The fans go wild and I feel awesome. I see Jonah rush towards the field to congratulate me. A local reporter blocks his way and I overhear his question, "Jonah, how does it feel to be Leah's older brother?"