This is rather long, but if you can look over it and give me back some feedback/corrections/etc., I'll gladly look over yours and critique it with the same effort you put in mine. Thank you!
(And I definitely stay up way later than I normally should, so I'll definitely get back to you quick on editing your essays, that is, if you edit mine)
PS. THIS IS DUE SOON!
Prompt: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
The feelings of anxiety and suspense entwine together and coil into a knot as I slowly approach the room. With each trudging footstep, the knot in my stomach tightens, quenching my mind's fear of the unknown. I soon begin to lose control of my own feet as it moves on its own whim, pushing ( would pulling sound better than pushing?) me closer and closer until I am finally standing in front of my long-awaited destination. As I walk inside the room, the first thing I see is not the Crayola-colored drawings on the walls or the random assortment of toys on the floor. Instead, the lonely sight of a young boy huddled near the farthest corner of the room is what catches the immediate attention of my eye. Away from all the noise and action, he sits by himself with a dazed look on his face.
I am a new volunteer at a center for children with disabilities and the boy in the corner is one of the many children diagnosed with Down syndrome. However, unlike the other children who have a Lego block or puzzle piece in hand, he is comforted by the warmth of his hands clasped together. Lacking confidence and experience, I find a nearby seat, instead of finding the courage to directly approach him. Afraid to disturb his moment of peace, I sit and observe in silence. While watching, I notice that the advisor of the room has done what I cannot: she approaches the little boy. She sits on the floor next to him and asks him a question, but within seconds, I realize that he cannot speak.
The advisor asks, "Would you like some water?" As he tries to mumble something, a simple yes or no fails to escape from his vocal cords; he can only respond to the advisor's question with a mixture of hand gestures to convey his thoughts. While most children in this room are capable of holding small conversations, he is unable to verbally express himself at all. He is surrounded by invisible barriers-barriers that detain him inside an imaginary cell, constantly isolating him from the present.
The advisor, understanding his position, takes this moment as an opportunity to help the boy escape from the confinements of his mind. She brings a cup of water and places it in his hands. Rather than handing over the glass of water, she persuades him to speak. "You can do this. Look at my mouth. W-wa-wat-er. This is water," she exclaims. Patiently, she mouths out this word continuously until he finally begins to imitate the motion of her lips. "Good job! Try and say it now. I believe in you." Again, he tries to attempt something that he has already deemed as impossible. He tries to speak, but he falters as his voice is caught inside his throat. He is once more discouraged, but after seeing the advisor's reassuring smile, he makes one final effort. Using all of his energy, he exerts one last force (Does force work?) into his voice and miraculously, the walls around him shatter. A sound erupts from his lips and he is set free.
Realizing that her work here is done, the advisor gets up and leaves to check up on the other children. As she walks away, our eyes meet and the gleam in her eyes reveals all the feelings that she has concealed inside her heart. Her eyes expose her inner feelings of joy and pride, while the sweat beads on her face represent patience. She moves on, knowing that the source of her happiness is from the thought of a small boy who once could not speak.
Though this moment is only a fragment of my life, this experience has left an everlasting effect on the way I perceive hardships. Like the lone boy, my mom has felt trapped inside her own world when depression hit her. She slowly strayed away from society and became reluctant to talk about her feelings. As a result, communicating with my mom gradually became difficult. A simple "How are you doing Mom?" or "Mom, I got a good grade on my test today!" would not arouse her sealed lips to open or provoke even the slightest expression to form on her face. Depression not only barred her from the real world, but it also prevented her from being a mother, a wife, and a friend. With patience and persistence, I slowly broke through my mom's mental line of defense and opened her mind towards optimism. In a sense, the boy in the corner can be figuratively depicted as my mother. Like him, she only needed someone with patience and compassion to guide her out of her own version of prison. To this day, I constantly reflect on this memory whenever I come across a difficult obstacle with my mom, but in the end, I, too, move on with my life with a secret gleam in my eyes, knowing that I have made a difference in my mom's life.
