Prompt: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
My heart beats erratically in my chest as I walk down the hallway, quietly dreading at the task to come. Suddenly I find myself at the door. I slowly turn the handle and walk in.
I'm at the state debate tournament. My partner and I have advanced to the top 16, an impressive feat for anyone. For me, though, it means so much more. I've had a speech impediment as long as I can remember. To put it lightly, debate has been a monumental challenge for me.
As I make my way to the front of the room, I notice the crowd - much bigger in most debate rounds - and my stomach takes a plunge. Still, I take out my case and wait for everyone to quiet down."Georgia and Ukraine" I start, "are aspiring to obtains MAPs." To my surprise, my words flow easily. My confidence goes up a notch and I finish my speech. The average listener wouldn't describe my performance as anywhere near perfect; I pause, sometimes repeat phrases, occasionally block. But me? I'm proud of my speech. It's one of my best all season. When I sit down, I feel not disappointment but pride.
I amble down the hallway to the cafeteria and sit down, nervously anticipating my results. Familiar thoughts cloud my mind. What if I did all this... only to come so far and lose? I had really done my best today: what if even that wasn't enough? Would any of this be worth it? My thoughts are interrupted as the announcer starts calling out the teams that didn't advance. "Century HZ. Stillwater CM. Minnehaha RT." Finally, the last one! Excitement courses through me: we've made it! Then - "Eastview GP". I get up, disappointment filling my stomach, to accept my plaque.
I think about the debate season. It's been tough, but ultimately I have faced my fears. I have done on a regular basis what frightens me most, public speaking. I will recall the moments of trepidation before my speeches and remember how I fought through them. I learned about hard work and preparation; unlike for most of the gifted orators here, every one of my triumphs took hours of preparation. I would take my place in front of a mirror and start practicing my case. Again. And again. And again. And again. This work ethic, I reflect, will serve me well through high school and beyond. I've learned how to face the questions and discouraging stares with defiance. And perhaps most importantly, I've learned to get past my bad moments - my losses, my blocks - and focus on the good. Whether I bring home a plaque that says "Octi-Finalist" or one that says "Champion", it's my attitude and the effort I've put in, as well as the lessons I've learned, that really matters.
My heart beats erratically in my chest as I walk down the hallway, quietly dreading at the task to come. Suddenly I find myself at the door. I slowly turn the handle and walk in.
I'm at the state debate tournament. My partner and I have advanced to the top 16, an impressive feat for anyone. For me, though, it means so much more. I've had a speech impediment as long as I can remember. To put it lightly, debate has been a monumental challenge for me.
As I make my way to the front of the room, I notice the crowd - much bigger in most debate rounds - and my stomach takes a plunge. Still, I take out my case and wait for everyone to quiet down."Georgia and Ukraine" I start, "are aspiring to obtains MAPs." To my surprise, my words flow easily. My confidence goes up a notch and I finish my speech. The average listener wouldn't describe my performance as anywhere near perfect; I pause, sometimes repeat phrases, occasionally block. But me? I'm proud of my speech. It's one of my best all season. When I sit down, I feel not disappointment but pride.
I amble down the hallway to the cafeteria and sit down, nervously anticipating my results. Familiar thoughts cloud my mind. What if I did all this... only to come so far and lose? I had really done my best today: what if even that wasn't enough? Would any of this be worth it? My thoughts are interrupted as the announcer starts calling out the teams that didn't advance. "Century HZ. Stillwater CM. Minnehaha RT." Finally, the last one! Excitement courses through me: we've made it! Then - "Eastview GP". I get up, disappointment filling my stomach, to accept my plaque.
I think about the debate season. It's been tough, but ultimately I have faced my fears. I have done on a regular basis what frightens me most, public speaking. I will recall the moments of trepidation before my speeches and remember how I fought through them. I learned about hard work and preparation; unlike for most of the gifted orators here, every one of my triumphs took hours of preparation. I would take my place in front of a mirror and start practicing my case. Again. And again. And again. And again. This work ethic, I reflect, will serve me well through high school and beyond. I've learned how to face the questions and discouraging stares with defiance. And perhaps most importantly, I've learned to get past my bad moments - my losses, my blocks - and focus on the good. Whether I bring home a plaque that says "Octi-Finalist" or one that says "Champion", it's my attitude and the effort I've put in, as well as the lessons I've learned, that really matters.
