Before she walks across the stage to get her diploma, Mikayla Munson will already have two certifications in her hand.

"Before I graduate and get handed my diploma," she said, "I'll already have two certifications in my hand." A CNC certification earned through dual credit enrollment at GAVC last year. A welding certification is in progress now through the dual credit program at Carl Sandburg College. When the ceremony comes, she'll have been ahead of it for a while.

She is proud of herself. She said so plainly, and she means it. "I've had an IEP since I was in first grade," she said. "I've had to overcome leaps and bounds with my education. I have missed so much school because of family issues. I've been through the foster care system. I've had a lot happen in my life."

No dramatizing. Just the facts, stated clearly, by someone who has had plenty of time to look at them straight.

Mikayla grew up in Galesburg — born in Peoria, but here since she was four. And here she stayed. Through all of it. Even the foster care system kept her in Galesburg, when it could have placed her anywhere in the state. Through every upheaval, this town was the constant. "I've seen every corner of this town," she said. "Can I go see a new one?"

Her mother signed away her parental rights when Mikayla was ten. Her father has had his own struggles — there were stretches when she couldn't live with him — but he has never disappeared. "He's still here," she said. "He's feeding me every day." That matters. Despite everything, he's still there.

And then there are the people who showed up by choice.

Her oldest sister — 28 now — has been a steady presence through things that would have swamped a lot of adults. "She has done so much for me throughout my life," Mikayla said. Her sister's mother — her father's ex-wife, technically no relation to Mikayla at all — became something else entirely. "I count her as my mother," Mikayla said. "When my mother stepped down from being a mother, I still had her in my corner. I've always had her in my corner." She lifted Mikayla back up. No matter what Mikayla did. "No matter how difficult I was to her," she said quietly. "Always was there in my corner."

That kind of loyalty — chosen, not obligated — does something to a person. It becomes a model. Mikayla has absorbed it.

She has four siblings in total: three older, one younger sister still in eighth grade. They've been through things together that forged something durable. "We've had our tiffs and taps," she said, "but over the years, we've matured and learned. That was stupid. We were being kids." She paused. "No matter what, we're still gonna be there for each other, no matter what happens throughout our lives." Her dream — the one she's been holding onto for years — includes all of them. "I just want to get enough money to get my siblings out of this town," she said. Especially her oldest sister. It's a debt she intends to pay.

Next year, Mikayla will go to Carl Sandburg College to finish her advanced welding certifications. She wants to be a welder and fabricator — pipe welding is on her radar. What she wants, beyond the work itself, is mobility. "I want to be traveling," she said. "I don't want to be in one place for too long. I've been stuck in Galesburg my whole life." The farthest she's gotten so far, she noted, is Knoxville. That's about to change. She could be working on a pipeline in Wyoming, fabricating parts in Chicago, or building something new in Seattle. The trade gives her that. "I have done amazing things throughout GAVC," she said, and there's nothing boastful in it — it's just true, and she knows it.

Two teachers have made sure she got here.

Randi Grodjesk has been her IEP case manager since freshman year and runs Common Grounds at the school. "Whenever I feel like I can't sit there and raise my voice and get myself heard," Mikayla said, "I turn to her, and she always makes sure I have a voice within it, no matter what it is." Grodjesk got her into the classes she wanted. Scheduled her tests. Made sure she couldn't back out. "She has made sure I got what I needed to do, when I needed to do it." Accountability and belief, running together.

Ms. Goodman, her senior English teacher, is the other one. Mikayla's welding program technically gives her enough credits to call it a day after that class and go home. She doesn't. "She is the reason why I walk into this building every single day after my welding class and not just go home and say, I've done my Sandburg. That's all I needed to really do." But she stays. For Ms. Goodman. For the connection. For what it means to have someone in your corner who sees you as a person with somewhere to go.

Mikayla Munson didn't choose the circumstances she grew up in. She didn't choose the family that fell apart around her, or the system that held her in place, or the years spent watching other people make decisions that shaped her life. None of that was hers to choose. What was hers — what has always been hers — is what she did next.

She chose forward.

And from here, the road opens up.