This is an essay I'm writing for college applications; I'm going to use it for topics concerning failure or an event that has shaped you, etc. Hopefully I will be able to modify it easily. Please criticize it all! Everything! Especially the ending, anything I need to wrap up better.
"Days to germination: 7-10." I lifted up the plastic wrap and inspected the surface of the soil, trying to find the elusive seedlings. None were present, so I gave the pot a little sprinkle of water, put the plastic wrap back, and hoped that tomorrow would bring sprouts. The next day there was nothing, as expected. I checked the next day. And the day after. And the day after that. By the seventh day, I had been carefully watering and watching pots of dirt in vain, and there were still no sprouts! I had failed in starting tomato seeds, again. I had also failed in germinating chive seeds, pepper seeds, and lavender seeds; they also sat on the windowsill.
This was disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. Every year I imagine having rows of squash, baskets of zucchini, and clusters of tomatoes. I plant seeds early to harvest early, every year. Unfortunately, my desires and those of the seeds just never match. I have been trying to grow seeds in conditions too cold or too wet. After almost giving up gardening altogether in despair, I decided I was going to grow those tomatoes. I was determined to make them grow. I consulted my grandparents, who could grow anything. I searched the web for seed-starting tips. I planted some more seeds. I waited. Most importantly, I persisted and waited. Lo and behold, after a week and a half there were sprouts poking through the soil. After the seeds awakened from their suspended state, it only took water and time for the plants to grow big and form tomatoes.
These brushes with the tricky process of germination have taught me a few things about failure and patience. Failure is fine, as long as one stays determined. Nature doesn't drop thousands of acorns expecting all of them to grow into stately oak trees; some are bound to get eaten by squirrels. If I had set all my things down and gave up on starting more seeds, I would definitely have a 0% germination rate. However, I didn't, and set some seeds anyway after failing the first time, and grew a few sprouts. I often think everything else should come to me as easily as academic concepts, but this mentality makes me want to quit other things just because I fail. However, when I remember that determination was required to start the seeds, I persevere and face my challenges.
In addition, failure is like a chisel. It shapes our actions. If you want to figure out how to do something the right way, just figure out what fails. The first seeds didn't do so well at first because they were too wet, or too dry, or too cold. However, after failing many times and assessing what could have gone wrong, I successfully started some seeds. I don't know exactly the perfect formula, but I at least know what not to do.
I also learned the importance of patience. Half the reason I was disappointed by my plants was that I checked them too early. Once I forgot about the seeds and gave them time, they sprouted. Similarly in life, a little patience can help one weather things out. The Spanish-American War started unnecessarily because a telegram didn't arrive fast enough, even though it contained the desired response. Perhaps if McKinley had waited just a day more or set the deadline a little later, there would have been a better outcome.
Even now, I don't have 100% success with starting seeds, but I have learned to embrace failure and to have patience. I can't have total control over some things; I just have to give up my control and to be more flexible with whatever happens, even if it results in discovering worms in my pepper seeds.
"Days to germination: 7-10." I lifted up the plastic wrap and inspected the surface of the soil, trying to find the elusive seedlings. None were present, so I gave the pot a little sprinkle of water, put the plastic wrap back, and hoped that tomorrow would bring sprouts. The next day there was nothing, as expected. I checked the next day. And the day after. And the day after that. By the seventh day, I had been carefully watering and watching pots of dirt in vain, and there were still no sprouts! I had failed in starting tomato seeds, again. I had also failed in germinating chive seeds, pepper seeds, and lavender seeds; they also sat on the windowsill.
This was disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. Every year I imagine having rows of squash, baskets of zucchini, and clusters of tomatoes. I plant seeds early to harvest early, every year. Unfortunately, my desires and those of the seeds just never match. I have been trying to grow seeds in conditions too cold or too wet. After almost giving up gardening altogether in despair, I decided I was going to grow those tomatoes. I was determined to make them grow. I consulted my grandparents, who could grow anything. I searched the web for seed-starting tips. I planted some more seeds. I waited. Most importantly, I persisted and waited. Lo and behold, after a week and a half there were sprouts poking through the soil. After the seeds awakened from their suspended state, it only took water and time for the plants to grow big and form tomatoes.
These brushes with the tricky process of germination have taught me a few things about failure and patience. Failure is fine, as long as one stays determined. Nature doesn't drop thousands of acorns expecting all of them to grow into stately oak trees; some are bound to get eaten by squirrels. If I had set all my things down and gave up on starting more seeds, I would definitely have a 0% germination rate. However, I didn't, and set some seeds anyway after failing the first time, and grew a few sprouts. I often think everything else should come to me as easily as academic concepts, but this mentality makes me want to quit other things just because I fail. However, when I remember that determination was required to start the seeds, I persevere and face my challenges.
In addition, failure is like a chisel. It shapes our actions. If you want to figure out how to do something the right way, just figure out what fails. The first seeds didn't do so well at first because they were too wet, or too dry, or too cold. However, after failing many times and assessing what could have gone wrong, I successfully started some seeds. I don't know exactly the perfect formula, but I at least know what not to do.
I also learned the importance of patience. Half the reason I was disappointed by my plants was that I checked them too early. Once I forgot about the seeds and gave them time, they sprouted. Similarly in life, a little patience can help one weather things out. The Spanish-American War started unnecessarily because a telegram didn't arrive fast enough, even though it contained the desired response. Perhaps if McKinley had waited just a day more or set the deadline a little later, there would have been a better outcome.
Even now, I don't have 100% success with starting seeds, but I have learned to embrace failure and to have patience. I can't have total control over some things; I just have to give up my control and to be more flexible with whatever happens, even if it results in discovering worms in my pepper seeds.