Prompt: Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud, and how does it relate to the person you are?
There is nothing better than acing a spelling test. Especially when you are six, as it allows you to rub it in all your little friends faces, and makes you feel like, "the man." As a 1st grader, I was just beginning to develop my strengths. The world was a new, scary place, and I was just trying to get by. I remember one thing I strongly believed was an important strength was honing my skills at spelling tests. My teacher, Mrs. Bergman, was new at our school that year. She was from the South, and had a deep Southern drawl. In my predominantly white, Northwestern first grade class, this accent was at first exotic and exciting. However, we very quickly learned that teaching was done differently in Oklahoma than in Boise, Idaho. In short, her screaming fits and harsh punishments scared the hell out of all us children. I wanted to ace the spelling test to impress her as much as my friends. Anyways, Mrs. Bergman read off words and we would write them down. I usually aced these tests, and was damn proud of it.
Most of the spelling tests, and most everything else that happened in 1st grade, are now a blur to me. Yet, I remember one particular test extremely vividly. My teacher was listing off the words in her Oklahoma drawl. I was confidently spelling each word, without any doubts. What a breeze. About halfway down the list, Mrs. Bergman came to the word, "of." "What an easy word to spell," I thought at first. I lowered my pencil towards the paper, and waited for the letters to automatically pour out on to the paper. Right then and there, something happened to my brain. The train that drove my mental capabilities derailed and came to a horrific crashing stop. I didn't know how to spell, "of." How could this be happening to me? Me, Kyle Scheffler, the spelling champion of the first grade! My teacher moved on to the next word, and in a panic, I took a stab at the word. "Uve," is what I wrote down. Isn't that how it sounds? I knew in my heart that it was the wrong spelling, though. I was on the verge of tears, and the clock was ticking. Suddenly, a notion that had never occurred to me popped into my mind. I pondered it, and wondered if this action would be worth it. I had to make up my mind swiftly; it was decision time. I developed the attitude that I had to do whatever was necessary to ace the test, and grimly did something I had never done before in my short life. Subtly, I turned to my left, all the while keeping an eye on my terror of a teacher. One quick, painless glance to the paper of my fellow student was all it took to obtain the correct spelling. For the first time in my life, I cheated.
Am I a bad person, because I came to my answer from means that were in no way honest? Did this choice lead to a complete academic train wreck that would trail me for the rest of my school days? In retrospect, I realize that although I wasn't completely right in following my instincts that fateful day, it was a necessary event in my life. It didn't make me any less of a good person, and certainly didn't wreck my academic career. From that incident, I learned that everything must be taken in moderation. I knew that, although starting to cheat on everything I did would make my life a lot easier, it would only lead to my eventual downfall. It gave me a strong feeling of dissatisfaction. From that point on, I vowed never to put incomplete efforts into something I was committed to. This work ethic has stuck with me until this very moment, and I am enthralled with the reality of taking this deeply ingrained trait with me to college.
Thank you very much for your feedback! This is very last minute of me...
There is nothing better than acing a spelling test. Especially when you are six, as it allows you to rub it in all your little friends faces, and makes you feel like, "the man." As a 1st grader, I was just beginning to develop my strengths. The world was a new, scary place, and I was just trying to get by. I remember one thing I strongly believed was an important strength was honing my skills at spelling tests. My teacher, Mrs. Bergman, was new at our school that year. She was from the South, and had a deep Southern drawl. In my predominantly white, Northwestern first grade class, this accent was at first exotic and exciting. However, we very quickly learned that teaching was done differently in Oklahoma than in Boise, Idaho. In short, her screaming fits and harsh punishments scared the hell out of all us children. I wanted to ace the spelling test to impress her as much as my friends. Anyways, Mrs. Bergman read off words and we would write them down. I usually aced these tests, and was damn proud of it.
Most of the spelling tests, and most everything else that happened in 1st grade, are now a blur to me. Yet, I remember one particular test extremely vividly. My teacher was listing off the words in her Oklahoma drawl. I was confidently spelling each word, without any doubts. What a breeze. About halfway down the list, Mrs. Bergman came to the word, "of." "What an easy word to spell," I thought at first. I lowered my pencil towards the paper, and waited for the letters to automatically pour out on to the paper. Right then and there, something happened to my brain. The train that drove my mental capabilities derailed and came to a horrific crashing stop. I didn't know how to spell, "of." How could this be happening to me? Me, Kyle Scheffler, the spelling champion of the first grade! My teacher moved on to the next word, and in a panic, I took a stab at the word. "Uve," is what I wrote down. Isn't that how it sounds? I knew in my heart that it was the wrong spelling, though. I was on the verge of tears, and the clock was ticking. Suddenly, a notion that had never occurred to me popped into my mind. I pondered it, and wondered if this action would be worth it. I had to make up my mind swiftly; it was decision time. I developed the attitude that I had to do whatever was necessary to ace the test, and grimly did something I had never done before in my short life. Subtly, I turned to my left, all the while keeping an eye on my terror of a teacher. One quick, painless glance to the paper of my fellow student was all it took to obtain the correct spelling. For the first time in my life, I cheated.
Am I a bad person, because I came to my answer from means that were in no way honest? Did this choice lead to a complete academic train wreck that would trail me for the rest of my school days? In retrospect, I realize that although I wasn't completely right in following my instincts that fateful day, it was a necessary event in my life. It didn't make me any less of a good person, and certainly didn't wreck my academic career. From that incident, I learned that everything must be taken in moderation. I knew that, although starting to cheat on everything I did would make my life a lot easier, it would only lead to my eventual downfall. It gave me a strong feeling of dissatisfaction. From that point on, I vowed never to put incomplete efforts into something I was committed to. This work ethic has stuck with me until this very moment, and I am enthralled with the reality of taking this deeply ingrained trait with me to college.
Thank you very much for your feedback! This is very last minute of me...