Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
Shock. Disgrace. Embarrassment. Different ranges of emotions raced across face as my 1999 Ford Expedition demolished the white pole at the Department of Public Safety. Judging by his loud exhale, the whites of his knuckles as he gripped the dashboard and the look of pure terror upon his face, the State Trooper was going to fail me on my driving test. I rested my head on the steering wheel because I realized failing meant no license, no cruising down the wide open road, and, ultimately, no freedom.
Even though I was not able to get my license the first time, I had to try again. This time, though, I made sure to be fully prepared before I took the driving test. During the week after the first test, my mother drove me to the Department of Public Safety every day after hours, so I could practice parallel parking between the yellow poles, because I had destroyed the white ones. Once I felt I had mastered the technique of parallel parking, I was prepared to retake the test.
I knew I would pass, not because of confidence, but rather my mother refused to take me to the DPS again. I sat and waited in the parking lot until my passenger door opened. It was the same State Trooper that had given me the first driving test. His eyes widened and it was obvious he wanted to pass my test along to someone else to grade, but no one else was around, so he got into the passenger's seat. Once our seat belts were fastened, for obvious safety measures, I pulled out of the parking lot and up to the yellow poles that I had grown so familiar with. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the State Trooper tense up and the color flush from his face, he was uneasy, which, given the previous experiences, I understood. However, during the second test he needed not to worry; I was fully prepared. I backed my 1999 Expedition next to the back pole then pulled it forward and stopped. The State Trooper opened the passenger door with his sweaty hands and proceeded to inspect my parallel park, which was near perfect. He then breathed a loud sigh of relief; he knew the worst part of the driving test was over. I then proceeded to ace the rest of my driving test. Once I passed, I received my driving license and my freedom.
I had viewed the first driving test as something trivial, something I could halfheartedly prepare for. I assumed I would excel at parallel parking because I was good at geometry. Little did I know that there was more to parallel parking than just angles; practice was needed as well. However, alongside failure is growth, learning from ones mistakes. I have learned that self-discipline and perseverance through even the most "trivial" tasks is necessary; those trivial tasks may be the difference between failure and success, the difference between me riding a bike or driving a Mustang.
Shock. Disgrace. Embarrassment. Different ranges of emotions raced across face as my 1999 Ford Expedition demolished the white pole at the Department of Public Safety. Judging by his loud exhale, the whites of his knuckles as he gripped the dashboard and the look of pure terror upon his face, the State Trooper was going to fail me on my driving test. I rested my head on the steering wheel because I realized failing meant no license, no cruising down the wide open road, and, ultimately, no freedom.
Even though I was not able to get my license the first time, I had to try again. This time, though, I made sure to be fully prepared before I took the driving test. During the week after the first test, my mother drove me to the Department of Public Safety every day after hours, so I could practice parallel parking between the yellow poles, because I had destroyed the white ones. Once I felt I had mastered the technique of parallel parking, I was prepared to retake the test.
I knew I would pass, not because of confidence, but rather my mother refused to take me to the DPS again. I sat and waited in the parking lot until my passenger door opened. It was the same State Trooper that had given me the first driving test. His eyes widened and it was obvious he wanted to pass my test along to someone else to grade, but no one else was around, so he got into the passenger's seat. Once our seat belts were fastened, for obvious safety measures, I pulled out of the parking lot and up to the yellow poles that I had grown so familiar with. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the State Trooper tense up and the color flush from his face, he was uneasy, which, given the previous experiences, I understood. However, during the second test he needed not to worry; I was fully prepared. I backed my 1999 Expedition next to the back pole then pulled it forward and stopped. The State Trooper opened the passenger door with his sweaty hands and proceeded to inspect my parallel park, which was near perfect. He then breathed a loud sigh of relief; he knew the worst part of the driving test was over. I then proceeded to ace the rest of my driving test. Once I passed, I received my driving license and my freedom.
I had viewed the first driving test as something trivial, something I could halfheartedly prepare for. I assumed I would excel at parallel parking because I was good at geometry. Little did I know that there was more to parallel parking than just angles; practice was needed as well. However, alongside failure is growth, learning from ones mistakes. I have learned that self-discipline and perseverance through even the most "trivial" tasks is necessary; those trivial tasks may be the difference between failure and success, the difference between me riding a bike or driving a Mustang.