Choose an issue of importance to you-the issue could be personal, school related, local, political, or international in scope-and write an essay in which you explain the significance of that issue to yourself, your family, your community, or your generation. (I chose personal)
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I always feel ambivalent about my Saturdays. I resent it because I have to wake up early, even on a weekend, but always look forward to it because of what that day holds for me. I volunteer as an assistant teacher for SAT Math at a program called E.G.A., or Ethnic Group Academy. This is an outside of school program that is geared specifically toward refugee children from all over the world, including Nepal, Myanmar, and Ivory Coast, who have fled from religious persecution and political strife in their home countries.
I first began EGA as an assistant teacher in Arts & Crafts about two years ago-and fell in love with the whole program on day one. The students were always eager to learn and eager to talk, especially exalting in the wonders and opportunities of the United States. In their minds, there were no such things as language barriers, for all they needed in order to convey their message was body language and pictures. Soon, EG Academy became my place of solace and joy. I looked forward to seeing my students every week, and I could not stop myself from telling everyone about this wonderful program and tried to encourage others to participate as well.
For the new fall semester, I signed up as an assistant teacher for Arts & Crafts-as I had done in previous years. But due to the large influx of students, especially in core subjects such as math and English, my parents began to hint that it would be beneficial for both me and the program if I switched into SAT Math. But rather than viewing this opportunity in a positive light, I became hesitant, even against agreeing to spend my time teaching a subject that I, myself, felt unsure about. I did not want to stray out of my comfort zone, and felt that I could better spend my Saturdays doing schoolwork rather than participating in what now seemed like a burdensome task.
After much contemplation of my own and persuasion by my parents, I committed myself to become an assistant teacher for SAT math. But as soon as the first Saturday of E.G.A. came around, I began to have cold feet. While reading over the roll sheet, it became obvious that there were several discrepancies between my previous class and current class. In arts and crafts, a majority of the students were children much younger than I; the wide age difference, along with a subject that I thoroughly enjoyed-made my role as a teacher more accessible. But now, my class was full of eleventh and twelfth graders-all high school students who were my peers. The task of teaching seemed even more daunting, and I did not feel ready, or even qualified to attempt such a task. Only the thought of "How in the world am I going to teach these students?" loomed bleakly over my head.
Although I felt guilty for backing out at such a crucial time, I announced to my father, who was also one of the math teachers, that I could not take the role of teaching SAT to a random teenager. How could a child herself teach another child? But rather than accepting my selfish request, he uncertainty already expecting a question as an immediate response, my father had an answer ready for me-an answer that stumped any further questions and truly struck a note in my heart.
He said that the most important aspect of being a teacher was not my age, experience, or even intelligence, but the stability that I gave to the students' lives.
When my father said those exact words, he knew the impact that they would cause. He knew that they would bring memories of a similar experience-memories from what seemed like yesterday, but were almost a decade old. Memories that reminded me of when our family first moved to America, and we did not have a stable figure to help guide the way. Memories that remembered when a hand finally reached out to steady us, and all we could do was frantically grab it and hold on for dear life.
Those were the memories that gave me the strength to meet my students and introduce myself as their teacher. They allowed me to see their beaming faces as they slowly figured out a problem by themselves, or hear their frustration when they could not understand the explanation to a question. They gave me an opportunity to learn about their lives before America, and comfort them when they worried for their family and friends at home.
When I look back to only a few months ago, I was so ambivalent, so afraid of my own insecurities that I almost deprived myself of meeting such extraordinary students. Now, EGA's fall semester is almost complete and I am reluctant to say goodbye. Words cannot describe the joy that they have engendered in me, and I cannot thank them enough for allowing me, a mere student, to be a part of their lives. I am already looking forward to seeing them next semester in the spring, where I promise to come back as a better, more learned teacher who will read a little bit slower and speak a little bit louder.
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Thank you so much for reading. I will gladly take any harsh critiques (please) and revisions. I thought that the prompt could be spun different ways, but I am not sure if this is what they want. Thank you again!!!
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I always feel ambivalent about my Saturdays. I resent it because I have to wake up early, even on a weekend, but always look forward to it because of what that day holds for me. I volunteer as an assistant teacher for SAT Math at a program called E.G.A., or Ethnic Group Academy. This is an outside of school program that is geared specifically toward refugee children from all over the world, including Nepal, Myanmar, and Ivory Coast, who have fled from religious persecution and political strife in their home countries.
I first began EGA as an assistant teacher in Arts & Crafts about two years ago-and fell in love with the whole program on day one. The students were always eager to learn and eager to talk, especially exalting in the wonders and opportunities of the United States. In their minds, there were no such things as language barriers, for all they needed in order to convey their message was body language and pictures. Soon, EG Academy became my place of solace and joy. I looked forward to seeing my students every week, and I could not stop myself from telling everyone about this wonderful program and tried to encourage others to participate as well.
For the new fall semester, I signed up as an assistant teacher for Arts & Crafts-as I had done in previous years. But due to the large influx of students, especially in core subjects such as math and English, my parents began to hint that it would be beneficial for both me and the program if I switched into SAT Math. But rather than viewing this opportunity in a positive light, I became hesitant, even against agreeing to spend my time teaching a subject that I, myself, felt unsure about. I did not want to stray out of my comfort zone, and felt that I could better spend my Saturdays doing schoolwork rather than participating in what now seemed like a burdensome task.
After much contemplation of my own and persuasion by my parents, I committed myself to become an assistant teacher for SAT math. But as soon as the first Saturday of E.G.A. came around, I began to have cold feet. While reading over the roll sheet, it became obvious that there were several discrepancies between my previous class and current class. In arts and crafts, a majority of the students were children much younger than I; the wide age difference, along with a subject that I thoroughly enjoyed-made my role as a teacher more accessible. But now, my class was full of eleventh and twelfth graders-all high school students who were my peers. The task of teaching seemed even more daunting, and I did not feel ready, or even qualified to attempt such a task. Only the thought of "How in the world am I going to teach these students?" loomed bleakly over my head.
Although I felt guilty for backing out at such a crucial time, I announced to my father, who was also one of the math teachers, that I could not take the role of teaching SAT to a random teenager. How could a child herself teach another child? But rather than accepting my selfish request, he uncertainty already expecting a question as an immediate response, my father had an answer ready for me-an answer that stumped any further questions and truly struck a note in my heart.
He said that the most important aspect of being a teacher was not my age, experience, or even intelligence, but the stability that I gave to the students' lives.
When my father said those exact words, he knew the impact that they would cause. He knew that they would bring memories of a similar experience-memories from what seemed like yesterday, but were almost a decade old. Memories that reminded me of when our family first moved to America, and we did not have a stable figure to help guide the way. Memories that remembered when a hand finally reached out to steady us, and all we could do was frantically grab it and hold on for dear life.
Those were the memories that gave me the strength to meet my students and introduce myself as their teacher. They allowed me to see their beaming faces as they slowly figured out a problem by themselves, or hear their frustration when they could not understand the explanation to a question. They gave me an opportunity to learn about their lives before America, and comfort them when they worried for their family and friends at home.
When I look back to only a few months ago, I was so ambivalent, so afraid of my own insecurities that I almost deprived myself of meeting such extraordinary students. Now, EGA's fall semester is almost complete and I am reluctant to say goodbye. Words cannot describe the joy that they have engendered in me, and I cannot thank them enough for allowing me, a mere student, to be a part of their lives. I am already looking forward to seeing them next semester in the spring, where I promise to come back as a better, more learned teacher who will read a little bit slower and speak a little bit louder.
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Thank you so much for reading. I will gladly take any harsh critiques (please) and revisions. I thought that the prompt could be spun different ways, but I am not sure if this is what they want. Thank you again!!!