This isn't done yet, but please tell me what you think! I need to edit the second half a little bit more.
Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way (about 500 words).
There I was, on my 17th birthday, hunched over the AP Calculus BC exam. Polar.Taylor.Parametric. All the topics I'd learned morphed into one great glob of confusion, incarnated into the haphazard calculations I'd written down. Staring at the questions, I felt my throat closing from panic. I can't do this. Tears, swollen with misery, trekked in rivulets down my face. Pitter-patter. They stained the page with damp blotches. Why today? Why me?
Time's up, the proctor called. I'd long since thrown down my pencil in defeat. Wiping the wetness from my cheeks and hiding my dejection with a smile, I listened to my friends chat about the test. I kept my head tilted back to keep tears from spilling over the cusp of my eyelids.
Alyssa was the only one who asked. "What's wrong?" The tears that had been held back by the dam of self-image suddenly flowed torrentially. With her, I felt safe to not just leak out a few tears, but to close my eyes, nostrils flaring, breath quivering, and sob into her tight embrace. "You're not allowed to cry on your birthday." Handing me a tissue to wipe away the self-pity, she said sternly, "You're going to get a 5."
Alyssa must've been magic, because that's exactly what happened. But her magic affected me in a much more profound way that extended beyond the scope of that test.
There I was, months later, texting my friend Jake. Our conversation started normally, but for some reason I couldn't name, he seemed off. I decided to go with my gut and ask if he was okay. Even when he claimed he was, I persisted. Call it intuition; call it sixth sense; whatever. I like to think that was caring. Finally, I managed to coax out of him, "My sister's in the hospital." I felt the coldness akin to an autumn chill seep into my veins, and I knew that this must be what Jake was feeling, but much, much worse. I'd never felt my heart genuinely go out to someone in their pain before. But that day, I was different.
Though he said he didn't want to talk about it, I convinced him to. I knew that in order for him to experience healing, he needed the comfort and hope I could bring. I knew him well enough to know that "I'll be staying up late tonight," actually meant "I can't sleep and need to talk to someone." I told him everything would be okay, that I'd pray for him. I said all the right words, but instead of the awkwardness normally accompanying pity, my compassion was infused with real feeling.
Because that's what an empathetic person does. That's what Alyssa would do. I finally realized what I hadn't been able to on my 17th birthday. Why was she able to see my pain, when everyone else couldn't? Because though she is smart, logical mathematician, she overflows with empathy. She saw, because she cared enough to look in the first place.
Jake thanked me profusely for caring, for seeing through his bravado when he wanted to hide behind it, and for being, in his words, "a good friend and a tremendous girl." But really, he should've thanked Alyssa.
Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way (about 500 words).
There I was, on my 17th birthday, hunched over the AP Calculus BC exam. Polar.Taylor.Parametric. All the topics I'd learned morphed into one great glob of confusion, incarnated into the haphazard calculations I'd written down. Staring at the questions, I felt my throat closing from panic. I can't do this. Tears, swollen with misery, trekked in rivulets down my face. Pitter-patter. They stained the page with damp blotches. Why today? Why me?
Time's up, the proctor called. I'd long since thrown down my pencil in defeat. Wiping the wetness from my cheeks and hiding my dejection with a smile, I listened to my friends chat about the test. I kept my head tilted back to keep tears from spilling over the cusp of my eyelids.
Alyssa was the only one who asked. "What's wrong?" The tears that had been held back by the dam of self-image suddenly flowed torrentially. With her, I felt safe to not just leak out a few tears, but to close my eyes, nostrils flaring, breath quivering, and sob into her tight embrace. "You're not allowed to cry on your birthday." Handing me a tissue to wipe away the self-pity, she said sternly, "You're going to get a 5."
Alyssa must've been magic, because that's exactly what happened. But her magic affected me in a much more profound way that extended beyond the scope of that test.
There I was, months later, texting my friend Jake. Our conversation started normally, but for some reason I couldn't name, he seemed off. I decided to go with my gut and ask if he was okay. Even when he claimed he was, I persisted. Call it intuition; call it sixth sense; whatever. I like to think that was caring. Finally, I managed to coax out of him, "My sister's in the hospital." I felt the coldness akin to an autumn chill seep into my veins, and I knew that this must be what Jake was feeling, but much, much worse. I'd never felt my heart genuinely go out to someone in their pain before. But that day, I was different.
Though he said he didn't want to talk about it, I convinced him to. I knew that in order for him to experience healing, he needed the comfort and hope I could bring. I knew him well enough to know that "I'll be staying up late tonight," actually meant "I can't sleep and need to talk to someone." I told him everything would be okay, that I'd pray for him. I said all the right words, but instead of the awkwardness normally accompanying pity, my compassion was infused with real feeling.
Because that's what an empathetic person does. That's what Alyssa would do. I finally realized what I hadn't been able to on my 17th birthday. Why was she able to see my pain, when everyone else couldn't? Because though she is smart, logical mathematician, she overflows with empathy. She saw, because she cared enough to look in the first place.
Jake thanked me profusely for caring, for seeing through his bravado when he wanted to hide behind it, and for being, in his words, "a good friend and a tremendous girl." But really, he should've thanked Alyssa.
