This I Believe: Meghan McLoughlin

Over the next who-knows-how-many months, we're going to be featuring some of our Keystone Fellows' This I Believe statements.

Back story: Keystone Fellows are students who embody the five Aspirations for Student Learning. They're students who strive to succeed in and out of the classroom, who are bringing others along for the adventure, and who understand that learning is lifelong. As part of the application process, Fellows write a This I Believe statement.

Today, hear from Meghan McLoughlin, a junior studying Applied Economic Management and a 2016 Keystone Fellow. In this piece, Meghan references the Aspirations in bolded text. 

I believe in a full stomach. I don’t mean the bulging, bloated bellyache that comes from overindulging in a multi-course meal at D2. Instead, I’m talking about a sufficiently full stomach- one that gurgles contentedly, fills you with energy, and fortifies you, giving you hope for the challenges you will face in the day ahead. I believe in the industry, people, and technology that provide our food and permit us to have full stomachs. I believe in the fellowship, culture, and connection to humanity that a full stomach offers. Most importantly, I believe that every person should have a full stomach every day.

From an early age, I have always been an ardent food fanatic: I love to pick up fresh produce at the grocery store, prepare meals in the kitchen with my family, and experiment with exotic dishes when I travel. However, before college, I was far more concerned with what was on my plate rather than where it came from, who produced it, or how it came to be there.

Since arriving at Virginia Tech, I began studying Applied Economic Management in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. Simply put, I have received an enlightening crash course in agriculture over the past two years and as a result, my paradigm has been shifted and my curiosity sparked. Beyond allowing me to realize the “farm-to-table” connection, my education in agriculture has helped me to understand the history, tradition, and culture of food production around the globe, effectively broadening my worldview. Even more importantly, my studies in agricultural economics have taught me to recognize the potential of agriculture to support future innovation in other industries as well as international development and trade.

While my agricultural education has prompted me to envision the future’s rosy possibilities, it has also opened my eyes to the picture of chronic hunger that persists in today’s world. From studying the global hunger epidemic and those it affects, I have learned civility: how to show respect and courtesy to all members of my community, regardless of physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual differences separating us. In spite of our differences, all people are united by our basic humanity, as shown by our common need for food. Feeding people who are hungry allows us to affirm their worth and relevance as humans and to promote a global climate of mutual respect and understanding among all people.  By striving to develop and reflect on values of civility and humanitarianism, I have enriched my own sense of self-understanding and integrity.

Over the past two years, I have challenged myself to develop and demonstrate courageous leadership in order to become an advocate for agriculture and global hunger relief efforts. By participating in Leadership Tech, the Agriculture Future of America Leaders’ Conference, and Alpha Zeta, I have learned the interpersonal, organizational, and communication skills needed to educate, motivate, encourage, support, and serve others. By initiating canned food drives, educational events, and fundraisers to raise awareness for the global hunger crisis, I have dedicated my unique talents and leadership to unifying others in the spirit of Ut Prosim (That I May Serve).

At Virginia Tech, a university that is distinguished for the varied, quality food options it offers students, it is easy to find full, satisfied stomachs. It is a much greater challenge to consciously excuse yourself from your tantalizingly full table to see that even your next-door neighbor’s plate (and therefore his stomach) may be empty.