Prompt: Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
"Welcome to hell," Mrs. Clemens chirps. Slowly, the room becomes filled with strained laughter, maybe because it was an unorthodox introduction to higher level classes, or maybe because of the element of truth that the joke held. As she shifts focus to the syllabus, I do not follow along because her first words keep echoing in my ear, increasing my anxiety. The feeling that I had made a grave mistake in joining the IB program sat in my stomach and caused my composure to tremble.
The memories of an arduous past hung over me the rest of the day. The first memory was of being a confused wreck on the first day of second grade, after finding out that I had been held back. I knew that I struggled with reading and math, but I didn't think I was that subpar. My confidence vanished which caused my studies to suffer even more, to the point that the school assigned me a tutor. Yet, under her instruction I improved dramatically, causing some of my confidence to return. However, even with my progression my family felt it was best to enroll me in a school for the learning disabled, even without a diagnosed learning disability. The school work was unchallenging and the atmosphere was patronizing. It was all so confusing; my teachers and my family wanted me to improve but the work they gave me did nothing to further my education. At the end of the first week of school I came to the conclusion that my family were too stuck in my past to give me a chance, I had to prove that I was more capable than they thought. From then on I whisked through the lessons to exceed the pacing of the class. I acted confident, even if I did not feel so, as to convince the teachers to give me advanced lessons. When I realized how much I was succeeding, my confident facade became genuine. My work paid off when I skipped the fourth grade, an advance large enough for my family to move me to a normal middle school. At first I struggled with the faster pace and more difficult work. My confidence wavered but less so every year as I became more accustomed to the workload.
When I entered high school, I felt like I had been reincarnated. I had new opportunities, new strengths, but also a past that could guide me to success. With less self-doubt I was able to enjoy learning. I loved the progress I was making, and wanted to extend beyond normal classes, so I decided to join the IB Honors program. Only after Mrs. Clemens welcome I felt a fear that I thought was locked in my past. When I got home I was utterly dejected. I allowed myself an hour to just feel pain, fear, and anxiousness. At the end of that hour, though my face was red, my eyes were swollen, and my cheeks were stained with tears, I felt at peace. I forced my mind to gain perspective. I had not failed yet, so there was no reason to feel like a failure. There was little to fear in Mrs. Clemens omen; I was no stranger to struggle, nor to success. I wanted to be in IB because I felt that it was time to take a bold step. I decided that I had to make every obstacle I faced count by doing my best to overcome it and learn from it.
Junior year was hell, but a happy one. Every moment was stressful and hectic, but no obstacle was unsurmountable. In senior year it was time for another challenge, to go beyond my studies. I extended my work into extracurricular activities and even projects off-campus. I am happy to see how much I have grown, and I am excited to see what I will do next.
"Welcome to hell," Mrs. Clemens chirps. Slowly, the room becomes filled with strained laughter, maybe because it was an unorthodox introduction to higher level classes, or maybe because of the element of truth that the joke held. As she shifts focus to the syllabus, I do not follow along because her first words keep echoing in my ear, increasing my anxiety. The feeling that I had made a grave mistake in joining the IB program sat in my stomach and caused my composure to tremble.
The memories of an arduous past hung over me the rest of the day. The first memory was of being a confused wreck on the first day of second grade, after finding out that I had been held back. I knew that I struggled with reading and math, but I didn't think I was that subpar. My confidence vanished which caused my studies to suffer even more, to the point that the school assigned me a tutor. Yet, under her instruction I improved dramatically, causing some of my confidence to return. However, even with my progression my family felt it was best to enroll me in a school for the learning disabled, even without a diagnosed learning disability. The school work was unchallenging and the atmosphere was patronizing. It was all so confusing; my teachers and my family wanted me to improve but the work they gave me did nothing to further my education. At the end of the first week of school I came to the conclusion that my family were too stuck in my past to give me a chance, I had to prove that I was more capable than they thought. From then on I whisked through the lessons to exceed the pacing of the class. I acted confident, even if I did not feel so, as to convince the teachers to give me advanced lessons. When I realized how much I was succeeding, my confident facade became genuine. My work paid off when I skipped the fourth grade, an advance large enough for my family to move me to a normal middle school. At first I struggled with the faster pace and more difficult work. My confidence wavered but less so every year as I became more accustomed to the workload.
When I entered high school, I felt like I had been reincarnated. I had new opportunities, new strengths, but also a past that could guide me to success. With less self-doubt I was able to enjoy learning. I loved the progress I was making, and wanted to extend beyond normal classes, so I decided to join the IB Honors program. Only after Mrs. Clemens welcome I felt a fear that I thought was locked in my past. When I got home I was utterly dejected. I allowed myself an hour to just feel pain, fear, and anxiousness. At the end of that hour, though my face was red, my eyes were swollen, and my cheeks were stained with tears, I felt at peace. I forced my mind to gain perspective. I had not failed yet, so there was no reason to feel like a failure. There was little to fear in Mrs. Clemens omen; I was no stranger to struggle, nor to success. I wanted to be in IB because I felt that it was time to take a bold step. I decided that I had to make every obstacle I faced count by doing my best to overcome it and learn from it.
Junior year was hell, but a happy one. Every moment was stressful and hectic, but no obstacle was unsurmountable. In senior year it was time for another challenge, to go beyond my studies. I extended my work into extracurricular activities and even projects off-campus. I am happy to see how much I have grown, and I am excited to see what I will do next.
