PLEASE EDIT?
"SLAM!!!!!!!" I'm not sure my parents thought anything of it until they heard me screaming.
When I was a year and a half old, the pointer finger on my left hand got caught in a door and the top was separated from the rest, hanging by a single nerve. My mother was in tears when she saw what had happened, sure that I would have to live with an amputated finger for the rest of my life.
Fortunately, the only doctor that was available in town was a plastic surgeon. Within minutes, his adept fingers had sewn my finger back together, comforting my family with the soothing words, "Anything is possible."
Today, those same words have become the mantra by which I live my life. In August 2011, I was faced with a large challenge: I had four weeks to complete a semester of Pre-Calculus. My high school counselor emailed me, completely convinced that I wouldn't be able to do. My father sat down and looked over the textbook, reviewing the necessary work, shaking his head. My mother was travelling, and when I spoke to her, she asked me: "How are you going to finish?" I sat with my head in my hands, convinced that I wouldn't. Then, I noticed my finger. Fully functional and shaped correctly, it had been completely fixed. My finger reminded me of something very important. I opened my textbook and got to work. Four weeks later, I submitted all the work, tests and the final exam with a grin on my face. My self-confidence had risen, and my sense of ability had grown. When I checked my grade, I found that I had received an A for the coursework. My pointer finger matters to me. It is a constant reminder that anything is possible.
"SLAM!!!!!!!" I'm not sure my parents thought anything of it until they heard me screaming.
When I was a year and a half old, the pointer finger on my left hand got caught in a door and the top was separated from the rest, hanging by a single nerve. My mother was in tears when she saw what had happened, sure that I would have to live with an amputated finger for the rest of my life.
Fortunately, the only doctor that was available in town was a plastic surgeon. Within minutes, his adept fingers had sewn my finger back together, comforting my family with the soothing words, "Anything is possible."
Today, those same words have become the mantra by which I live my life. In August 2011, I was faced with a large challenge: I had four weeks to complete a semester of Pre-Calculus. My high school counselor emailed me, completely convinced that I wouldn't be able to do. My father sat down and looked over the textbook, reviewing the necessary work, shaking his head. My mother was travelling, and when I spoke to her, she asked me: "How are you going to finish?" I sat with my head in my hands, convinced that I wouldn't. Then, I noticed my finger. Fully functional and shaped correctly, it had been completely fixed. My finger reminded me of something very important. I opened my textbook and got to work. Four weeks later, I submitted all the work, tests and the final exam with a grin on my face. My self-confidence had risen, and my sense of ability had grown. When I checked my grade, I found that I had received an A for the coursework. My pointer finger matters to me. It is a constant reminder that anything is possible.
Do You Need