The air conditioning was humming along as 50 teenagers squeaked in their chairs, put away their iPods and turned off their cell phones. After about 15 minutes, I turned to my friend next to me and whispered to him, "I want to go." He looked a little confused since we were sitting in a very engaging presentation. "Where?" he asked. I am not one to leave presentations, even boring ones (which were extremely rare at Summer JAM). I replied, "Africa. Sudan. Darfur. Chad. Now. I want to be a doctor."

This new thought was alarming. It has always been extremely clear to me that my interests lie in the humanities and social sciences. In my college search, the idea of me as a medical or pre-med student evolved into somewhat of a joke. I had my niche–a rather huge niche, but still–I knew the field in which I wanted to study and work. When my peers at school bemoaned their lack of direction, I felt solid. I was going to be a teacher, or a diplomat, a historian, a lobbyist, a writer, a therapist.

Until this presentation. My desire...no, my deep need to help had surpassed even my severe aversion to science.

We were at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum listening to a speaker from the Committee on Conscience, which was created with the memorial to spread awareness, influence policy, and promote action against genocide and crimes against humanity. We were watching a short film about the experience of Brian Steidle, a former marine who was in Darfur with the African Union. The African Union team was only monitoring, and the only weapon Steidle had was a camera. He came back to the United States determined to share what he saw.

Everyone in the room knew more about Darfur than an average group of teenagers. As a people, I think Jews tend to be more socially aware. We have been at the forefront of the Darfur awareness campaign. This comes partly from our past and our experience with the Holocaust. But I believe that caring about Darfur should come from being a human. It shouldn't take genocide in your people's collective past to make you care. So as a room full of Jews, and a room full of humans, we all felt compassion and a deep need to help.

I still don't think I will be a doctor, because the thought of medical school makes me want to cry. But new ideas of what I can do seem much more attainable. I could be a nurse, or an EMT, or do non-medical work for Doctors Without Borders. Being at Summer JAM made me realize that I am powerful, and that I can do more than just buy a t-shirt.

JAM has also taught me that I can write letters to members of Congress (which is much more effective than you think), organize rallies and promote awareness in my community. I have always been a person who feels compassion for the world around me. I have always wanted to help, but sometimes it frustrates me because I feel powerless and peerless. JAM has given me resources, shown me the impact my actions have on the world, and given me the chance to meet 49 other teenagers who care.