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Describe the world you come from and how it has shaped your aspirations
"Miss Natasha! Napoleon smeared poop on the bathroom walls again!" little Jamal yells excitedly as he welcomes me.
As I arrive at Up On Top nonprofit program for underprivileged kids, I am mobbed by these friendly devils. This may not seem like a fun way to spend my summer or every Tuesday afternoon during the school year, but my passion for developmental psychology made me want to experience working with different types of children; despite the smell of excrement and numerous lice outbreaks, I love my job.
Living in a highly sheltered environment, I had never experienced the "real" Tenderloin, a low-income section of San Francisco. As I heard news of the area's violence and crime, I wondered how the children were affected. I found out. Third-grader Napoleon misses his incarcerated mother and had below-average reading skills; Brandon and Jonathan, who only speak Spanish, stayed within the confines of each other's arms; and Jamal, the smallest, whose size was not a result of genetics, but due to malnutrition because his homeless mother can only afford scraps for him to munch on.
I was shocked. These sweet, young kids-despite their occasional mischief-had already experienced such hardships. And as Jamal proudly declares his future as exactly like his recently-shot-gangster-brother, I decided I had to show him another possible path, one different from the one he imagined himself in.
From then on, my work enthralled me. I researched Spanish phrases for the twins and made PBJ sandwiches for Jamal. I became the goofy, trustable buddy during playtime and the serious, strict teacher during lessons. I learned to effectively communicate with them and use calming techniques when they got frustrated or upset, and worked with them through problems of abuse and bullying. I taught them the importance of nutrition, stretching, and on battling the infamous childhood enemy: vegetables (pinch your nose and swallow). Eventually, I saw the little differences I made: Jamal, who could barely get on the swing at the beginning of the summer could now swing independently; Brandon and Jonathan were finally discovering the world outside of their own and making friends; and Napoleon could finally read a book by himself. I was astounded that within weeks, a child could change so significantly.
In truth, I did not care about the money I received to help these kids, I could have come solely for the children. I love spending time with them; feeling connected to them while my heart bursts with pride watching them grow, knowing that I had aided in their conquests. Mentoring these kids reaffirmed my aspiration to be a child psychologist, to help children in need and to know that I can make a difference in their lives.
My experience at Up on Top shaped not only my world, but my outlook of it. I learned that in the real world, not every child receives as many opportunities as another, but that it is our job to lend a hand and make a difference. I choose psychology to make that difference. One person can change the world, one poop-smearing kid at a time.
talk about a personal quality or experience and how it relates to who you are today
Every once in a while, I find myself trying to get out of bed only to find out: I can't. This is not because of laziness or because of late-night studying, but because I am in too much physical pain to get up. While all the other kids ran, I slowly crawled up the school stairs, my body bent and huddled, hoping that the next step would be the last. I went through ten doctors and three countries before I was diagnosed with juvenile arthritis and congenial disc degeneration: a condition where my soft shock-absorbing, compressible spinal discs separating the bones of my spine are drying out.
Raised as a tom-boy who loved winning in the yearly "mile-run" and anticipated lapping all the other swimmers, I was disappointed and angry when I found out about my condition. Suddenly, all the things that had made me happy were taken away for "my own good." Although I understood my mother's concern over my health, I did not understand why I had to quit what I loved and so I continued swimming-my favorite of all sports. But eventually, repetitive inflammation of my discs made it painful for me to even walk a block without having to book an appointment with my chiropractor, forcing me to resign from anything physical. That was a dark, nihilistic day for me. I admit, I was slightly jealous of my "normal" twin sister, who could run and ice skate without fear of spending the next day crawling up the stairs in agony, and it was embarrassing having to tell my pity-filled teachers why I missed school.
Despite this "curse" or draw of bad luck, I've learned to make the most out of my condition. I began enjoying my weekly sessions with my chiropractor, an intellectual who loved to pass her medical knowledge onto me while my face was smashed against the table being worked upon. In fact, my disadvantaged state allowed me to develop many important skills: I became comfortable in communicating with my teachers and developed a sense of responsibility as I found ways to make up my missed work (for example, making up classes during my lunch hour). I am now also good at handling unexpected encounters and being calm during an emergency and have learned to be more perceptive, adaptive, and understanding of people's needs. Most of all, I found my biggest love-which doesn't require running-photography.
In truth, my disability has not made me bitter or spiteful of the world. I fully acknowledge that sometimes I do have to try a little harder to get up or push a little harder as I trudge to my next class but I do not let anything get in my way of life. I learned that there is a solution to every problem; the world can only be improved once a person accepts their situation. Though I might not live like a normal child, I am certainly a happy one. My condition is only a disease I have to accept as part of who I am. And frankly, I love who I am.
Describe the world you come from and how it has shaped your aspirations
"Miss Natasha! Napoleon smeared poop on the bathroom walls again!" little Jamal yells excitedly as he welcomes me.
As I arrive at Up On Top nonprofit program for underprivileged kids, I am mobbed by these friendly devils. This may not seem like a fun way to spend my summer or every Tuesday afternoon during the school year, but my passion for developmental psychology made me want to experience working with different types of children; despite the smell of excrement and numerous lice outbreaks, I love my job.
Living in a highly sheltered environment, I had never experienced the "real" Tenderloin, a low-income section of San Francisco. As I heard news of the area's violence and crime, I wondered how the children were affected. I found out. Third-grader Napoleon misses his incarcerated mother and had below-average reading skills; Brandon and Jonathan, who only speak Spanish, stayed within the confines of each other's arms; and Jamal, the smallest, whose size was not a result of genetics, but due to malnutrition because his homeless mother can only afford scraps for him to munch on.
I was shocked. These sweet, young kids-despite their occasional mischief-had already experienced such hardships. And as Jamal proudly declares his future as exactly like his recently-shot-gangster-brother, I decided I had to show him another possible path, one different from the one he imagined himself in.
From then on, my work enthralled me. I researched Spanish phrases for the twins and made PBJ sandwiches for Jamal. I became the goofy, trustable buddy during playtime and the serious, strict teacher during lessons. I learned to effectively communicate with them and use calming techniques when they got frustrated or upset, and worked with them through problems of abuse and bullying. I taught them the importance of nutrition, stretching, and on battling the infamous childhood enemy: vegetables (pinch your nose and swallow). Eventually, I saw the little differences I made: Jamal, who could barely get on the swing at the beginning of the summer could now swing independently; Brandon and Jonathan were finally discovering the world outside of their own and making friends; and Napoleon could finally read a book by himself. I was astounded that within weeks, a child could change so significantly.
In truth, I did not care about the money I received to help these kids, I could have come solely for the children. I love spending time with them; feeling connected to them while my heart bursts with pride watching them grow, knowing that I had aided in their conquests. Mentoring these kids reaffirmed my aspiration to be a child psychologist, to help children in need and to know that I can make a difference in their lives.
My experience at Up on Top shaped not only my world, but my outlook of it. I learned that in the real world, not every child receives as many opportunities as another, but that it is our job to lend a hand and make a difference. I choose psychology to make that difference. One person can change the world, one poop-smearing kid at a time.
talk about a personal quality or experience and how it relates to who you are today
Every once in a while, I find myself trying to get out of bed only to find out: I can't. This is not because of laziness or because of late-night studying, but because I am in too much physical pain to get up. While all the other kids ran, I slowly crawled up the school stairs, my body bent and huddled, hoping that the next step would be the last. I went through ten doctors and three countries before I was diagnosed with juvenile arthritis and congenial disc degeneration: a condition where my soft shock-absorbing, compressible spinal discs separating the bones of my spine are drying out.
Raised as a tom-boy who loved winning in the yearly "mile-run" and anticipated lapping all the other swimmers, I was disappointed and angry when I found out about my condition. Suddenly, all the things that had made me happy were taken away for "my own good." Although I understood my mother's concern over my health, I did not understand why I had to quit what I loved and so I continued swimming-my favorite of all sports. But eventually, repetitive inflammation of my discs made it painful for me to even walk a block without having to book an appointment with my chiropractor, forcing me to resign from anything physical. That was a dark, nihilistic day for me. I admit, I was slightly jealous of my "normal" twin sister, who could run and ice skate without fear of spending the next day crawling up the stairs in agony, and it was embarrassing having to tell my pity-filled teachers why I missed school.
Despite this "curse" or draw of bad luck, I've learned to make the most out of my condition. I began enjoying my weekly sessions with my chiropractor, an intellectual who loved to pass her medical knowledge onto me while my face was smashed against the table being worked upon. In fact, my disadvantaged state allowed me to develop many important skills: I became comfortable in communicating with my teachers and developed a sense of responsibility as I found ways to make up my missed work (for example, making up classes during my lunch hour). I am now also good at handling unexpected encounters and being calm during an emergency and have learned to be more perceptive, adaptive, and understanding of people's needs. Most of all, I found my biggest love-which doesn't require running-photography.
In truth, my disability has not made me bitter or spiteful of the world. I fully acknowledge that sometimes I do have to try a little harder to get up or push a little harder as I trudge to my next class but I do not let anything get in my way of life. I learned that there is a solution to every problem; the world can only be improved once a person accepts their situation. Though I might not live like a normal child, I am certainly a happy one. My condition is only a disease I have to accept as part of who I am. And frankly, I love who I am.
