rosemarymelon
Sep 24, 2020
Scholarship / Questbridge Topical Essay - "My Missing Mother & Third-Grade Teacher" [3]
Hello there! I'm Melanie :) This is the first draft of my second essay for the National College Match. Please let me know if you think I should change or omit anything. Does it read well and successfully answer the prompt?
Prompt:
Circling my old elementary school, I'm back at my starting place. Rough, black concrete fills my view again, the ground that would scrape my knees during recess and gym. To the side are the rocky bleachers where all the parents are supposed to sit and wait.
...
No one.
Frantically, I race to the front of the building.
Then the sides.
Then the back.
Then the bleachers once more.
Anxiety begins to rise through painful butterflies in my stomach.
No one is here to pick me up at 2:45 after the final bell has rung.
No one is here to hug me tightly and ask about my day. Walk me home as she always does, weaving me dramatic and exaggerated stories from her afternoon.
My Mami.
For the first time in my life, I don't know where she is.
For the first time in my life, I'm all alone.
Tears blurring my field of vision, I pace around aimlessly until I come across a familiar face: my third-grade teacher. She appears to be leaving the school when I call out to her with wet eyes and a runny nose. Yet seeing how distraught I am, she takes the initiative, gesturing me towards her. We start walking together side by side on the surrounding sidewalk, and she begins talking about the things that interest her. I interject with the occasional question or two but remain mostly quiet at the sound of her engaging voice. Every second that passes, my breathing becomes more and more relaxed, and the sense of foreboding becomes less and less pronounced. Easily, in this renewed state of calmness, I reflect.
I love my third-grade teacher.
She would award me for saying big words during class, giving my assigned group stars whenever I used terms like cumbersome, geyser, or redundant. It was such a strange thing at first, being that my vocabulary stemmed from watching PBS Kids and playing their educational games online. But I would learn soon enough that fun activities could augment my learning experience.
And earn me a bunch of candies and stickers.
When I earned perfect scores in her spelling practice tests, she would allow me to create bonus questions of my own for the real exam. Among these: Dallas, anticipation, exceptional. I wasn't allowed to use those last two words, but the fact that she believed they were advanced sparked a feeling of pride. Her constant support and confidence towards me fostered a warmth in my chest that has yet to fade.
Perhaps, then, I shouldn't feel so worried. There are courses of action that I can take to solve any problem: all I need to do is take that first step. Like that first time raising my hand to share with the class the new interesting word I just learned.
When my teacher brings me to talk with the principal and sit on my own in his office, I maintain my resolve.
Hello there! I'm Melanie :) This is the first draft of my second essay for the National College Match. Please let me know if you think I should change or omit anything. Does it read well and successfully answer the prompt?
Prompt:
Describe an experience that caused you to change your perspective and/or opinion.
Circling my old elementary school, I'm back at my starting place. Rough, black concrete fills my view again, the ground that would scrape my knees during recess and gym. To the side are the rocky bleachers where all the parents are supposed to sit and wait.
...
No one.
Frantically, I race to the front of the building.
Then the sides.
Then the back.
Then the bleachers once more.
Anxiety begins to rise through painful butterflies in my stomach.
No one is here to pick me up at 2:45 after the final bell has rung.
No one is here to hug me tightly and ask about my day. Walk me home as she always does, weaving me dramatic and exaggerated stories from her afternoon.
My Mami.
For the first time in my life, I don't know where she is.
For the first time in my life, I'm all alone.
Tears blurring my field of vision, I pace around aimlessly until I come across a familiar face: my third-grade teacher. She appears to be leaving the school when I call out to her with wet eyes and a runny nose. Yet seeing how distraught I am, she takes the initiative, gesturing me towards her. We start walking together side by side on the surrounding sidewalk, and she begins talking about the things that interest her. I interject with the occasional question or two but remain mostly quiet at the sound of her engaging voice. Every second that passes, my breathing becomes more and more relaxed, and the sense of foreboding becomes less and less pronounced. Easily, in this renewed state of calmness, I reflect.
I love my third-grade teacher.
She would award me for saying big words during class, giving my assigned group stars whenever I used terms like cumbersome, geyser, or redundant. It was such a strange thing at first, being that my vocabulary stemmed from watching PBS Kids and playing their educational games online. But I would learn soon enough that fun activities could augment my learning experience.
And earn me a bunch of candies and stickers.
When I earned perfect scores in her spelling practice tests, she would allow me to create bonus questions of my own for the real exam. Among these: Dallas, anticipation, exceptional. I wasn't allowed to use those last two words, but the fact that she believed they were advanced sparked a feeling of pride. Her constant support and confidence towards me fostered a warmth in my chest that has yet to fade.
Perhaps, then, I shouldn't feel so worried. There are courses of action that I can take to solve any problem: all I need to do is take that first step. Like that first time raising my hand to share with the class the new interesting word I just learned.
When my teacher brings me to talk with the principal and sit on my own in his office, I maintain my resolve.
