Prompt: Optional/additional common application essay. No prompt
"In through the nose, out through the mouth," I whisper to myself as I engulf the pungent scent of a high school bus. My knee bobs up and down in cohesion with my shaky breaths: a feeble attempt to calm my nerves. With every minute that passes my face turns a brighter shade of crimson as I await my impending doom. A neighboring peer gazes at me and privately utters, "Nina, relax...you'll do fine."
The bus ride to the testing center took a mere ten minutes but to me, it felt like an eternity. Entering the room I begin to scan its contents: high ceilings, minimal windows, and a spine-tingling draft. It could have passed for a warehouse if there was not a sea of tables lining the floor from wall to wall in systematic rows and columns.
Chair legs scrape the cement floor like nails on a chalkboard as everyone settles in. I locate my designated seat and nervously straighten my test booklets over and over while my knee finds its rhythm once again. "We will now begin the preliminary questions," spat the proctor into a microphone. Dread washes over my body similar to the feeling of walking blindly down a dark alley: unaware what will transpire but able to sense that it will be climactic.
"You have sixty-five minutes to complete the reading portion: your time starts now." I whip open my test booklet and begin to answer each question. With every bubble, I feel more and more confident in my ability. My knee stops tapping and my body loosens up as my revamped mindset extinguishes my nerves. I think to myself, "if you can keep this up you will get the score you have been working for."
"Time's up...pencils down," I hear the proctor announce. I slam my pencil on the desk and immediately my mindset does a complete 180.
My mind now a rapid stream of consciousness, fills with what ifs and needless worries: "what if you got a majority of those incorrect, what if you run out of time on the English or make one too many mistakes?"
My palms return to their familiar clammy state as I peer down at my test booklet and realize that my vision is beginning to blur and blacken. Even with the high ceilings the room feels like it's getting smaller and smaller, ready to consume me. Then, I realize what event is about to unfold. My hand shoots up and a proctor walks over to me. I quickly blurt "bathroom," and speed walk as delicately as possible so that I do not attract the eyes of the other one hundred students in the room. Still trying to remain invisible, I softly push open the bathroom door and make sure that it shuts completely. I bolt across the cracked tile floor and into an open stall. Leaning over the toilet I begin to throw up the Clif Bar and banana that I ate for breakfast.
Standardized tests, specifically the ACT, has become the biggest obstacle throughout my high school journey. When this began in 2015 I would get frustrated with my inability to calm my nerves, aware that if I could not relax I would not be able to perform to the best of my ability. I would beat myself up when my nerves still continued to prevail, preventing me from reaching my goals. A mindset so toxic it began to make me feel 'unqualified' and unintelligent.
As time has progressed I have begun to look at the test in a new light: as a challenge to conquer my nerves, rather than as an obstacle that will try its hardest to prevent me from getting into college.
Of course I am going to retake the ACT for the 5th time in September, but this time I will be doing it for myself-- not to impress a college. I have realized that a two-digit number will never be able to accurately represent who I am as a person, the good or the bad. A two digit number leaves out things like that I was a top 20 international finalist in DECA or that I organized a tutoring program for my fellow students. It even fails to mention my passion for mathematics. Most importantly, a two-digit number cannot determine who is the hardest worker or who will be the most successful during and after college.
