If you’re looking for clarity, talk to Anders Bergren.

He won’t give you a pep talk. He won’t rattle off a five-point plan. But he will speak in a way that feels unusually grounded for someone who’s just 18—because he’s thought things through. And because he knows where he’s going, even if he’s still shaping the path.

In the fall, Anders will enroll at St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota. He’s planning to major in biology, pursue a concentration in neuroscience, and, if things go well, head to medical school after graduation.

“It’s a rough plan,” he says, smiling. “But it feels right.”

What also felt right was the size and style of St. Olaf itself—a liberal arts college with a strong science track and a deep culture of connection.

“They have great relationships with the Mayo Clinic,” Anders says. “And they really support pre-med students. But also—I just liked it there. I’ve visited three times.”

He’s not chasing prestige. He’s looking for a place where he can keep doing the things that matter to him: studying hard, swimming competitively, performing in music and theater when he can, and investing in relationships that push him to grow.

His record reflects that balance. Anders is an Illinois State Scholar, has taken weighted college-level courses through Carl Sandburg, and has immersed himself in extracurriculars ranging from Scholastic Bowl to speech team, theater, band, and years of competitive swimming, including a recent co-op season with Galesburg.

“I’m the only swimmer at Monmouth-Roseville,” he says. “So freshman year, it was just me and my mom coaching. Later I took a break, then co-oped with Galesburg for senior year. That was a great experience.”

He’s also someone who’s grown comfortable thinking out loud about big things—like fear, or failure, or the danger of letting worry set the tone.

“I try to remind myself,” he says, “‘Worrying is just worshipping the problem.’ The more you focus on it, the more you give it power. That’s something I’ve really tried to live by.”

He’s gained that perspective not just from books or classes, but from people—especially Ms. Schaefer and Mr. Daw, two educators who left deep marks on him.

“She helped me feel seen and comfortable being myself,” he says of Schaefer. “And Mr. Daw encouraged me to look at biology, helped me see my strengths. He believed in me.”

Anders also draws inspiration from his grandmother, Donna Spears, a longtime fourth-grade teacher who now sponsors a scholarship in her name. “She’s been a constant,” he says. “Kind, smart, deeply committed to others.”

That commitment runs through Anders as well. He wants to be a physician, but also a coach, a mentor, a teacher of sorts—someone who doesn’t just perform tasks, but invests in people.

“Teaching is reciprocal,” he says. “When you teach someone else, you’re also reinforcing what you’ve learned. I love that idea.”

That same spirit is behind his advice to his younger self: Don’t care so much what people think. Stop worrying so much. It’ll work out. Just take a breath.

Because Anders Bergren doesn’t believe in perfect. He believes in trying. In staying open. In moving forward.

And if he ever needs a reminder, he’s got theater to thank.

“It’s a space where failure is okay,” he says. “Where you learn to speak up. Where you learn presence.”

And presence is what Anders brings—whether in a classroom, on stage, or quietly walking into the next chapter of his life.

He’s not trying to impress.

He’s trying to contribute.

And that’s the kind of person who makes a lasting difference.