Undergraduate /
My sister + Fireworks - Overview of educational and life experiences [2]
Hey everyone, I need help to critique and edit my essays. I 'll be glad to return the favor. Please be harsh!
My sister was spinning me in the air in delight and my mother was smiling at me because my brother had arrived with my first grade result and I was third in my class! My school gifted me a pack of candies and a position holder's cup. Everybody in the family congratulated me for starting my educational career in a fine style. However, the bliss was short - lived and in the second grade I faced a problem that kept me from getting a position for many years - my ability to write Urdu was inadequate. It meant that I was incapable of writing in Urdu tests. I do not know the exact cause of this inability but I think it happened because I was innately uncomfortable with Urdu. Two subjects - Urdu and Islamic studies were taught in Urdu, whereas most other subjects were taught in English. My grades in English based subjects were admirable but the grades in Urdu based subjects were letting me down. My poor Urdu caused my grades to fall from A+ to B or C in second and third grades.
This disparity in the level of understanding of two languages had continued until fifth grade; when in a class test, my Urdu teacher summoned me to the front of the class to write on the blackboard. With trembling hands, I picked up a chalk and wrote my name. She wanted me to write something else, but I could come up with nothing. The whole class erupted in laughter on this bizarre incident. With tears in my eyes, I looked towards the teacher begging her to stop this humiliation. She took me to the principal's office and explained the situation to him. My mother was summoned for a meeting with the principal, in the meeting they agreed upon private teaching sessions for me. In these sessions, I was taught the basic alphabets of the language all over again. I also worked on my Urdu vocabulary.
These sessions proved to be very beneficial for me. My teacher identified the root of the problem to be that I was not writing with confidence. Therefore, she made me do some confidence boosting exercises. Steadily, my Urdu improved. By the seventh grade, my Urdu writing had become good enough to get A's in Urdu and Islamic study. This progress allowed me to attain the third position again.
When I look back at this experience, I realize that maybe I should have asked my tutors or family to help me with my Urdu. It would have saved me many embarrassing occasions that made me feel academically inferior to my friends. I learned the lesson that suffering alone is more pathetic than requesting help.
LIFE EXPERIENCES:
Fireworks were illuminating the sky and crackers were making loud noises and people were waving flags. It was 14th of August - the Pakistani Independence Day. I was eight years old at this particular Independence Day celebrations, therefore, very eager to participate in the merriment. So I bought a small flag and placed it on my bicycle's handle. My mother felt it was unsafe to ride a bike like this but I remained adamant and went out to see some friends. On the way, I had to stop the bike abruptly, causing the flag to swirl in the air. My natural further momentum caused me to hit the flag. Its pointed nail struck my eye and remained planted in the corner of the eye for few seconds before I took it out from my eye. Surprisingly, it did not hurt at all.
Later that day, my father noticed water pouring out of my eyes. After failing to stop the flow, we went to see an eye specialist. After examining my eyes, the doctor told my father in privacy that the pipe carrying water to and from the eyes had been punctured by the flag causing the water to sprinkle. He suggested two possible ways to treat the puncture. First method was to help the pipe heal itself by applying eye solutions every day. Second method was to replace the pipe in a three hour operation. He also said the operation was the better option. My father was in favor of the letting the pipe heal itself as he considered such a lengthy operation to be too much pressure for an eight year-old to take. I had accidently overheard their conversation and had made my mind to have an operation done. Consequently, when asked for opinion, I stated that I did not fear a surgery. My father tried to convince me otherwise, but I preferred a quick treatment over a slow one.
The operation was a success and my eyes healed completely. I learned two lessons from this experience. The first one is to always listen to the advice of those older and wiser than me. The second lesson is to be brave in face of difficulty.
