Stanford students possess intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development.
"Congratulations! You have been accepted to attend Boston University's Summer Challenge Program." I was ecstatic after receiving this letter of acceptance for a program I yearned to attend. However, later the same day, my rapture became a tragedy when I received an additional email enclosed with the rules and regulations, along with the total fees. Unfortunately, the bulky expenses to attend the program weren't affordable for my parents so I could not participate in the program.
For weeks, I couldn't get myself out of the dejected state I was put in, and my attitude in school reflected it. Then my AP Calculus BC teacher presented a pleasant proposal: spend the summer tutoring students who were entering AP Calculus BC the following academic year. I was quick to accept this opportunity, mainly because I wholeheartedly enjoyed AP Calculus. As much as I liked Calculus, I was more intrigued by the idea that I could be a teacher. The one attribute I greatly lacked in my repertoire was the ability to teach others.
When the first day of the tutoring program came, I walked into a room full of eager faces which reminded me of myself the first day I entered my AP Calculus class. I was comforted by the idea that I was essentially teaching myself while teaching others. As I began teaching limits and then derivatives, I realized I was being taught patience and persistence. As the tutoring program progressed, my maturity progressed as well. By the end of tutoring, not only did I feel a difference in myself, my AP Calculus teacher felt a change as well.
Even though I couldn't attend the Summer Challenge Program, spending the summer tutoring was the next best thing. My acceptance into the program was the best thing to never happen to me, for I would never have been given the perfect opportunity to effectively take my first step into adulthood and acquire endurance, an attribute vital for anyone who seeks to succeed.
What matters to you, and why?
The beauty of happiness is that it can be found universally. The belief that genuine happiness can be derived from simple things like picking fruits from homegrown plants or milking cows used to seem implausible. How can one be happy spending hours on fields swarming with bugs and stubborn cows? It didn't make sense. However, in 9th grade I realized that no matter how nonsensical a lifestyle may seem, I shouldn't judge it unless I put myself in those shoes.
During the February break we boarded Air India for the flight from JFK to Ahmedabad. As we exited Ahmedabad airport a rickshaw drove us to Gavada, my parents' home village which stretched about a half mile long in the state of Gujarat, an hour from the airport. The road was very rugged; there wasn't a second in the cab when I was not being smacked in the face by a whirl of dust and sand. When we reached the village, the scenery was exquisite: luscious trees, and plentiful wildlife. However, life was impoverished: not much food, and blazing heat. Nonetheless, a joyous vibe radiated from the people of Gavada. The daily life of the villagers consisted of waking up at sunrise, cultivating crops, and milking cows; yet they radiated nothing but happiness. I never would have believed that people could live happily in such indigent conditions.
I was curious to find out a secret to the happiness, so I asked my uncle how he could possibly enjoy his lifestyle. He replied, "Look around you." It was difficult to fathom what he meant at first, but then I had an epiphany. Money doesn't always correlate to happiness. The village was among the best things nature has to offer, and if you can cohere with nature, you can find happiness. My trip to India has changed the activities I engage in, for I prefer taking a stroll in the town park over abusing electronics at home. Although it seems clichĂŠ, basking under a sunny sky, in a bed of flowers, is much more self-satisfying than acquiring a new high score in "Temple Run."
"Congratulations! You have been accepted to attend Boston University's Summer Challenge Program." I was ecstatic after receiving this letter of acceptance for a program I yearned to attend. However, later the same day, my rapture became a tragedy when I received an additional email enclosed with the rules and regulations, along with the total fees. Unfortunately, the bulky expenses to attend the program weren't affordable for my parents so I could not participate in the program.
For weeks, I couldn't get myself out of the dejected state I was put in, and my attitude in school reflected it. Then my AP Calculus BC teacher presented a pleasant proposal: spend the summer tutoring students who were entering AP Calculus BC the following academic year. I was quick to accept this opportunity, mainly because I wholeheartedly enjoyed AP Calculus. As much as I liked Calculus, I was more intrigued by the idea that I could be a teacher. The one attribute I greatly lacked in my repertoire was the ability to teach others.
When the first day of the tutoring program came, I walked into a room full of eager faces which reminded me of myself the first day I entered my AP Calculus class. I was comforted by the idea that I was essentially teaching myself while teaching others. As I began teaching limits and then derivatives, I realized I was being taught patience and persistence. As the tutoring program progressed, my maturity progressed as well. By the end of tutoring, not only did I feel a difference in myself, my AP Calculus teacher felt a change as well.
Even though I couldn't attend the Summer Challenge Program, spending the summer tutoring was the next best thing. My acceptance into the program was the best thing to never happen to me, for I would never have been given the perfect opportunity to effectively take my first step into adulthood and acquire endurance, an attribute vital for anyone who seeks to succeed.
What matters to you, and why?
The beauty of happiness is that it can be found universally. The belief that genuine happiness can be derived from simple things like picking fruits from homegrown plants or milking cows used to seem implausible. How can one be happy spending hours on fields swarming with bugs and stubborn cows? It didn't make sense. However, in 9th grade I realized that no matter how nonsensical a lifestyle may seem, I shouldn't judge it unless I put myself in those shoes.
During the February break we boarded Air India for the flight from JFK to Ahmedabad. As we exited Ahmedabad airport a rickshaw drove us to Gavada, my parents' home village which stretched about a half mile long in the state of Gujarat, an hour from the airport. The road was very rugged; there wasn't a second in the cab when I was not being smacked in the face by a whirl of dust and sand. When we reached the village, the scenery was exquisite: luscious trees, and plentiful wildlife. However, life was impoverished: not much food, and blazing heat. Nonetheless, a joyous vibe radiated from the people of Gavada. The daily life of the villagers consisted of waking up at sunrise, cultivating crops, and milking cows; yet they radiated nothing but happiness. I never would have believed that people could live happily in such indigent conditions.
I was curious to find out a secret to the happiness, so I asked my uncle how he could possibly enjoy his lifestyle. He replied, "Look around you." It was difficult to fathom what he meant at first, but then I had an epiphany. Money doesn't always correlate to happiness. The village was among the best things nature has to offer, and if you can cohere with nature, you can find happiness. My trip to India has changed the activities I engage in, for I prefer taking a stroll in the town park over abusing electronics at home. Although it seems clichĂŠ, basking under a sunny sky, in a bed of flowers, is much more self-satisfying than acquiring a new high score in "Temple Run."