Please help me! This is due tomorrow.
YOU CAN SKIP THE PART FROM THE LIFE OF PI IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOK.
General feedback on the essay ideas will be great (not much needed for grammar, i could go back to look at it).
Do you think my essay follows the epigraph?
i promise i'll return the favor if you read my essay
PROMPT: Select a quote that will serve as an epigraph to your essay and connect it to the LIife of Pi as an intro.
We tend to forget that happiness doesn't come as a result of getting something we don't have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have.
-Frederick Keonig
On the lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Pi Patel, the protagonist from The Life of Pi, experiences the widest range of emotions in his life: fear, hopelessness, frustration, guilt, loneliness, and courageousness. But in the end, it was his gratitude and his ability to appreciate what he has rather than what he did not have that kept him alive. Instead of lamenting about what he lost and lacked (his family and the sufficient supplies for survival) during the first few nights, Pi evolves into a thankful person who is able to appreciate what he already possessed. As he said, "you get your happiness where you can. You reach a point where you're at the bottom of hell, yet you have your arms crossed and a smile on your face, and you feel you're the luckiest person on earth. Why? Because at your feet you have a tiny dead fish" (Martel 217).
I can understand exactly what Pi meant. In times of utter hopelessness, the slightest improvement in situation easily made me feel like the happiest person on the planet. Simply thinking about how "it could have been worse" rejuvenated my appreciation for what I had and compelled me to persevere in my journey. Ironically, this journey which I am talking about happened in Pi's native country-India.
I cannot exactly say that I used to be an ungrateful teenager before that experience, but I do have to admit, I was. Growing up in such a modernized and materialistic society like Hong Kong definitely contributed to my previous shallowness. I was too ambitious, always pursuing meaningless and unimportant goals. I always had to stay thin; I always had to sport the latest phone the billboards advertised. My entire world revolved around climbing the social ladder and looking good in other people's eyes. Nothing was ever enough. For me, such acceptance and materialistic gratification were the only means of obtaining happiness. Although I knew that such happiness was short-lived and that this pursuit of happiness is potentially endless, I didn't know any better way.
One time when I was yet again pleading for a greater allowance, my mom finally blew up. "Jen, stop complaining. Why don't you compare yourself to those less fortunate than you? Never in your life have you appreciated what you have. Never in your life did you have to chiku. Why don't you volunteer in poorer countries to see how others live their lives so that you realize truly how lucky you are?" In Chinese, chiku literally means to "eat pain". But in other words, my mother was saying how I've never suffered enough to be thankful for the life I had. Sure, I've lived a sheltered life. But are you kidding me, mom? I thought. I've seen scarred beggars on the streets. I mean, I have dealt with pain too! I've been teased by mean girls at school, had my heart broken, and gotten stitches on my head in second grade from rollerblading. I do appreciate what I have. But sometimes, what I have truly isn't enough. So out of spite, I said yes and went off to India to teach English through an organization I found online. I was sure that this experience wouldn't change me, and I was confident that the sufferings ahead will be nothing new.
After arriving at the bustling airport in Delhi and travelling an hour by car to the outskirts of the city, I finally arrived at my host family's house. It resembled nowhere I have ever been to. The neighborhood seemed miles away from the next neighborhood, and the sound of car honks and peddlers seemed elusive if not nonexistent. Stepping into the house, I started to worry about things that I never even had to think about before. Things like the lack of toilet paper, cleanliness, and comfort. The beds were made out of straw (I didn't even want to know what was under them), and bugs were everywhere. But, my worst horror was something else: the air-conditioning, or rather, the lack thereof. Heat was something I definitely cannot endure, especially not India's breezeless hot summer heat of 115 degrees Fahrenheit. I admit it: I cried all night that night, wishing to catch the next flight back home. I wanted my bed back, my family, and my home. I have never had been so uncomfortable or insecure in my life. It was unbearable. Even to this day, I still cannot believe I survived that month. (Doubtlessly, among other things, I now worship my air-conditioner).
The next day was our first day teaching at the elementary school. The children, seeing a foreign volunteer, enthusiastically greeted me "dee dee" (which means "older sister" in Hindi) as I walked past the school gates for the first time. Then, they rushed towards me and started tugging on my pants and pulling my hand, begging me to join in their games on the playground.
"Basketball. My team dee dee," a girl persisted as she tugged insistently on my pants. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fight between two scrawny boys who displayed determination comparable to that of sumo-wrestlers'. I rushed over and attempted to pry them apart, but they both glared at me as a warning not to interfere.
I admit it: my emotions felt completely foreign. I have never witnessed such chaos, and I have never been so scared and overwhelmed in my life. I felt like mere entertainment for the children-a doll they could tug and scream at. I thought I signed up to teach children sitting in neat little rows like those in the photo shown on the website, not these rascals!
At first, I sulked, not wanting to teach these chaotic children. But after noticing their poor conditions, my attitude slowly softened. I was here already, I thought, I might as well seize this chance to change a life. These children were help-deprived-there were only three teachers who served the entire school of about 250 children. And moreover, they were poor. They carried their one-inch sharpened pencils and their dog-eared and weather-beaten books in burlap sacks that once held rice. They also had obvious signs of injuries. One girl pointed at a lump under her chin; a boy showed me one of his fingers that had been cut off. How could I have previously expected these children to sit in neat little rows like the school displayed on the organization's website? These children probably had so much more to worry about than their behavior at school!
That night, sitting amidst the heat and drained of energy, I found peace in the host home where I have previously thought to be a hostile environment. Especially after a whole day of chaos teaching at the school, despite the heat, such silence and tranquility was therapeutic and much appreciated. Silence was my friend, fostering reflection and peace I have not had in years.
After a week of teaching, as I was flipping through the pictures of the children in my camera, a sudden revelation dawned on me. Despite their poverty and injuries, the children were still able to remain happy and to appreciate something they had-each other. They still laughed and played with one another in the playground as if each day was their happiest day. Yet I, who had so much more than what the children had, was never happy or satisfied. Only then did I finally realize how ungrateful I have been all my life. Upon this revelation, I was uncomplaining and surprisingly, happy. Happy for realizing the true worth of what I had at home.
My mom was right about me: I have never had to chiku. I never had to go through the same type of hardships that these children experience everyday. All this time, I have been feeling like Superwoman just because I had survived the shallow troubles of my life, when really, these children are the true heroes for battling and enduring through troubles much greater than mine and still emerge with such hope and happiness. As young children, they have already learned something I should have learned long ago. Happiness can be found anywhere; one does not need to attain something one doesn't have in order to experience it. One simply needs to love and be grateful for what one has. Seeing the children's unmistakable courage and morality, I don't think any troubles in my life are worth complaining about anymore. I have finally learned to appreciate what I have in my life.
Thanks for reading.
Do you think my essay is consistent with the epigraph?
Were any paragraphs out of place?
