Finding My “Just Right” at USC Chan

November 13, 2025
by Angel

Beginnings and Endings Classes Community International School/Life Balance

As occupational therapists, we often talk about finding the “just right challenge.”

It’s one of those guiding OT principles that stays with you long after you leave the classroom or the clinic—that perfect balance between too hard and too easy. It’s the sweet spot where growth happens: not so high that it leads to frustration, and not so low that it leads to boredom or disengagement.

For three years, I lived by that phrase as a pediatric occupational therapist back in the Philippines. Every session, every activity, every goal I created for my kids was built around that idea. I wanted to make sure each child was supported just right—challenged to reach a little higher, yet still confident and motivated to keep going.

Back then, “just right” was something I applied to my clients. I had always reserved it for my clients, never considering my own journey.

When I entered USC Chan three months ago, I was filled with excitement, anticipation, and a little bit of fear. I had dreamed about being part of this community for so long—a place known for excellence, compassion, and innovation in occupational therapy. I was ready to learn, to grow, and to experience what it truly means to be part of the Chan family.

But as the days turned into weeks, I was struck by just how remarkable all my classmates are. In group discussions and reflections, they shared thoughtful insights about OT, ideas that made me pause and think, “How did they come up with that?” Beyond their knowledge, I was inspired by their professional experiences, their expertise in different areas of OT back in their home countries, and their achievements, including international programs like conferences and summer exchanges abroad. Each conversation opened new perspectives, and I often found myself quietly listening, trying to absorb as much as I could.

Soon, that admiration began to turn into self-doubt.

I started to feel small, even a little insecure. I questioned my abilities and wondered if I truly belonged in a room full of such talented and articulate people. I thought, Maybe I’m not as smart. Maybe I don’t have as much to contribute.

There were moments when I stayed quiet, not because I had nothing to say, but because I doubted whether my thoughts were good enough. I began to question myself, my knowledge, my experience, and even my place here.

Then, a quiet realization began to settle in the back of my mind.

This feeling—a mix of challenge and discomfort—was familiar. I had seen it before, not in myself, but in my clients: the look of frustration when a task felt too hard, the hesitation when they weren’t sure they could succeed, and the quiet pride when they finally did something they couldn’t do before.

I realized I was living my own just right challenge.

And in adulthood, that balance can feel even more delicate. Too much challenge can lead to anxiety, burnout, or even trauma. Too little, and we risk staying in places that feel safe but stagnant.

Being a student again after years of practice is not easy. You’re reminded that growth means starting over—being open, curious, and humble enough to say, “I don’t know, but I’m willing to learn.”

Those moments of doubt weren’t signs of failure; they were signs of stretching. Maybe I felt “not enough” because I was being pushed in the best possible way: challenged, but not defeated.

I came here not to prove I’m the best, but to become better. And growth doesn’t happen in comfort. It happens when you’re surrounded by people who inspire you to think differently, reflect deeper, and reach higher.

At Chan, I’ve learned that it’s okay to not have all the answers. It’s okay to listen more than you speak. It’s okay to be in a season of learning, because that’s exactly what being a student is about.

In occupational therapy, we remind our clients and their families to trust the process. Progress doesn’t happen overnight; it unfolds through small, meaningful steps. Maybe we, as students and future occupational therapists, need to extend that same grace to ourselves—taking things one step at a time, one just right challenge at a time.

Looking back on my first few months at USC Chan, I can see how much I’ve grown, not just in knowledge, but in perspective. I’ve learned to value moments of discomfort because they mean I’m learning. I’ve learned to celebrate small wins: understanding a difficult concept, sharing an idea in class, connecting with peers from all over the world who share the same passion for OT. I’ve learned that being surrounded by people who are “better” in some ways isn’t something to fear, it’s something to celebrate. It means I’m in the right place to learn.

More importantly, I’ve learned to extend the same compassion to myself that I always gave to my clients.

Before leaving for USC, one of my patient’s mother shared a photo of me and her son in a post online as I said my goodbyes. Her words reminded me why I do what I do, and what it truly means to meet someone at their “just right” level. It’s not only about helping someone achieve their therapy goals; it’s about understanding their story, celebrating small victories, and walking beside them through both struggle and success.

So now, whenever that familiar sense of self-doubt creeps in, I tell myself: This is my just right. This is where I’m supposed to be—learning, growing, and embracing both the challenges and the joys that come with this journey.

Because life, like therapy, isn’t about being perfect. It’s about finding that balance—that meaningful middle ground—where growth happens.

And for us as adults, that “just right” isn’t just about skill: it’s about readiness to learn, a sense of safety in trying new things, and having the courage to stretch without snapping. It’s about honoring our limits while still leaning into discomfort, trusting that growth doesn’t require perfection—only presence and persistence.

And here at USC Chan, I’m learning that sometimes, being in that just right space is exactly what I need.

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