Prompt: Tell us about yourself.
It was uncommon for a muggle like me to be standing here, especially after the peculiar response garnered from the conductor as to the whereabouts of Platform 9 ž. As the steam engine whistle sounded, Hogwarts awaited.
I was unaware of such a world: Was this some sort of parallel dimension? The tumultuous storm that reigned inside me was unexplainable as the excitement to begin a new chapter was coupled with feelings of insecurity and sheer horror over how I would be perceived.
Maybe the meek library aficionado? Perhaps, the invisible nobody?
The latter seemed a more viable option--a label that I had become quite comfortable with growing up. These people here seemed so familiar yet so distant at the same time. It was always this way. New school, new friends, then start all over again.
This school had some intrinsic ritual of dividing students into houses by means of a sorting hat. I watched as it placed the boy with the curious scar into Gryffindor. His house rejoiced as the legend was now amongst their kind.
I stared with intense jealousy. No one had ever rejoiced over my arrival. I was always a physical being rather than a sociological force. It was always this self destructive habit of comparing myself to others that I disliked the most.
Turning my head away, I vowed to not construct a Venn Diagram every time I encountered someone new. It would be some time before I realized the truth behind the much endorsed motto of each individual being unique.
Hogwarts is like any other school: a society of individuals all searching for a clear definition as to who they are and what they're destined to become. As I grappled to define myself, I think back to how I had got here.
As a surgical patient, the Ronald McDonald House was my residence. I thought back to the days I wrestled with my brother over who would remove body parts from Sam in Operation. How furiously I prayed for the red light to turn on and cause his defeat! How utterly childish was I!
It was through my days as a transplant patient that I entered the world of Hogwarts. Imagination became my playground as I departed for my version of the adventure--American High. The thought of mingling with 1000 strangers is daunting for even the most outgoing individual. But everybody here was the same: willing to integrate and to forge friendships and alliances that would help them trek through the next four years of this jungle.
As the boy who lived, it was his fate to battle Lord Voldemort. As the girl who always faded into the background, it was my fate to stand out. From serving alongside the mayor to voyaging through the Hundred Acre Woods with my Operation SMILE kids on activity day; my days as the shy camouflaged student seem like a distant memory. I remember mentors alluding to how changing this institution would be. I obviously did not believe-dismissing it as standard inspirational dialogue to disillusion timid freshman.
Today, the statement holds valid.
It was through advocacy that I began to find myself believing that although one person may not be able to change the world, it should not stop them from trying. Perhaps it was the tribulations of my past or the uncertainty of my present that led me to such a passion.
A passion that is hard to formulate into words.
A passion that had shaped many aspects of my life.
A passion worth living for.
It is hard to explain exactly what sort of satisfaction it gives me to know I have helped but it is a feeling worth every effort. A feeling that I want to relive over again and again. Whether its Operation SMILE activities or writing to my disabled pen pal or working with JSAers to Stand Up for America, I know activism is a passion that will forever be with me beyond my high school years.
As I once again return to platform 9 ž to board the college express, I think back to my journey through Hogwarts (or so the American High Jungle version of it). I now come to terms with the unique conglomeration of things that define who I am. Atreyi, as unique as my name, an activism aficionado, an academic nerd, a Harry Potter fan, a storyteller. It is this umbrella concept to my identity that has become the steering wheel of my life.
I know the boy with the curious scar would have smiled seeing how far I have come.
It was uncommon for a muggle like me to be standing here, especially after the peculiar response garnered from the conductor as to the whereabouts of Platform 9 ž. As the steam engine whistle sounded, Hogwarts awaited.
I was unaware of such a world: Was this some sort of parallel dimension? The tumultuous storm that reigned inside me was unexplainable as the excitement to begin a new chapter was coupled with feelings of insecurity and sheer horror over how I would be perceived.
Maybe the meek library aficionado? Perhaps, the invisible nobody?
The latter seemed a more viable option--a label that I had become quite comfortable with growing up. These people here seemed so familiar yet so distant at the same time. It was always this way. New school, new friends, then start all over again.
This school had some intrinsic ritual of dividing students into houses by means of a sorting hat. I watched as it placed the boy with the curious scar into Gryffindor. His house rejoiced as the legend was now amongst their kind.
I stared with intense jealousy. No one had ever rejoiced over my arrival. I was always a physical being rather than a sociological force. It was always this self destructive habit of comparing myself to others that I disliked the most.
Turning my head away, I vowed to not construct a Venn Diagram every time I encountered someone new. It would be some time before I realized the truth behind the much endorsed motto of each individual being unique.
Hogwarts is like any other school: a society of individuals all searching for a clear definition as to who they are and what they're destined to become. As I grappled to define myself, I think back to how I had got here.
As a surgical patient, the Ronald McDonald House was my residence. I thought back to the days I wrestled with my brother over who would remove body parts from Sam in Operation. How furiously I prayed for the red light to turn on and cause his defeat! How utterly childish was I!
It was through my days as a transplant patient that I entered the world of Hogwarts. Imagination became my playground as I departed for my version of the adventure--American High. The thought of mingling with 1000 strangers is daunting for even the most outgoing individual. But everybody here was the same: willing to integrate and to forge friendships and alliances that would help them trek through the next four years of this jungle.
As the boy who lived, it was his fate to battle Lord Voldemort. As the girl who always faded into the background, it was my fate to stand out. From serving alongside the mayor to voyaging through the Hundred Acre Woods with my Operation SMILE kids on activity day; my days as the shy camouflaged student seem like a distant memory. I remember mentors alluding to how changing this institution would be. I obviously did not believe-dismissing it as standard inspirational dialogue to disillusion timid freshman.
Today, the statement holds valid.
It was through advocacy that I began to find myself believing that although one person may not be able to change the world, it should not stop them from trying. Perhaps it was the tribulations of my past or the uncertainty of my present that led me to such a passion.
A passion that is hard to formulate into words.
A passion that had shaped many aspects of my life.
A passion worth living for.
It is hard to explain exactly what sort of satisfaction it gives me to know I have helped but it is a feeling worth every effort. A feeling that I want to relive over again and again. Whether its Operation SMILE activities or writing to my disabled pen pal or working with JSAers to Stand Up for America, I know activism is a passion that will forever be with me beyond my high school years.
As I once again return to platform 9 ž to board the college express, I think back to my journey through Hogwarts (or so the American High Jungle version of it). I now come to terms with the unique conglomeration of things that define who I am. Atreyi, as unique as my name, an activism aficionado, an academic nerd, a Harry Potter fan, a storyteller. It is this umbrella concept to my identity that has become the steering wheel of my life.
I know the boy with the curious scar would have smiled seeing how far I have come.