“Our word of the day is diminutive,” I eagerly announced, “it means very very small.”

“Where did you get that from?” Ms. Kushner asked inquisitively.

“Oh! I heard it on Jimmy Two-Two, the cartoon,” I responded.

That was the 5-year-old me. Always hungry for more, I would read and digest whatever landed on my plate, whether it was an Armenian translation of a Disney story or an Ikea assembly manual.

12 years later, and having successfully assembled at least thirty pieces of Swedish furniture, my hunger is still not gratified.

However, my insatiable curiosity for knowledge has allowed me to taste the intellectual gastronomy of the world. I’ve sampled the various theories of urban planning, savored Khachaturian’s vivacious compositions, and snacked on Dante’s complex Divine Comedy.

I’ve taken a crack at playing the guitar, tried my hand at painting, and even experimented with gardening. I learnt that soccer is not my forte – after clumsily dislocating my kneecap during a match. I’ve played with code and developed a penchant for the French language. I’ve delved into the worlds of science fiction and classical literature alike.

My cumulative experiences, my experiments with life, have helped me discover the real me – a feat not many 17-year-olds are able to achieve.

As a teenager, I always keep up with the latest trends and giving back is always in style.

And so, I teach.

I teach to share my enthusiasm for the Krebs cycle and Newtonian mechanics.

I teach to invest in the world – to sow the seeds that will bear the fruit of the future.

I teach to interweave theory and practice – to help guide one through the labyrinth of information.

I teach to spark interest in others – to create an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. To cultivate a voracious desire to learn that will ultimately unmask one’s true potential – one’s true calling.

I may be a student, a son, a brother, a pianist, a scientist, and a chef.

But before all else, I am unequivocally a teacher.