Obstacles And Challenges

It's indisputable that the “numbers” aspect of my application isn’t the strongest. Obstacles and challenges often seemed to get the best of me during high school. But still, I have emerged confident and optimistic.

By ninth grade, life had hit me too hard. I was still drunk on anger from my mother’s schizophrenia diagnosis, her disappearance from my family and my parents’ divorce. Years of art therapy had helped me recover from these traumas and in 10th grade, I was on a stronger path: I knew what I wanted and needed to do.

But in 11th-grade things broke apart again. Bureaucratic mistakes in my large high school placed me in high-level classes that I was not prepared for, like AP Physics and Honors Pre-Calculus -- I still hadn’t completed geometry. I panicked at first but I determined that I could take on the
challenge.

To meet the expectations I spent hours on Khan Academy researching the things I didn’t know. But by the time I would get one concept, we were on to the next subject. My dad spent hundreds of dollars on a tutor, but my mind wasn’t computing the numbers or the formulas. I was like a broken calculator that did not even understand the problems.

I’d ask questions in class but they would only lead to more questions.
Although I often thought I was the only one struggling, I suggested to classmates that we form a study group. Everyone benefited, but I still needed more help and felt embarrassed by my obvious questions. I spent late evenings in the Math Center and library. Although I managed to complete all my classwork, I always froze up on the tests. I felt like I was swimming in work and drowning in numbers. My 504 accommodations helped, but only so much, and I often felt singled out and embarrassed by them.

While I struggled with the academics, my ADD medicine opened up a different problem for me. I needed it more because of the heavy workload, but the side effects (mixed with the stress) caused me to shut down and my work in all my classes began to suffer. Eventually, just going to class scared me and the panic attacks began. When I was finally discovered by my father, in the bathroom, crouched down and breathing heavily, a meeting was arranged with the counselors. They poked at me with their pens and notepads, trying to find the problem -- as if I hadn’t been screaming it all
along.

But eventually, we developed a strategy for getting me through the rest of the school year. It was too late to change the grades but it was a plan for moving forward. I was devastated that my struggles would slander all my hard work in 10th grade, but I grew to understand that mistakes happen for a reason.

I don’t think struggles and some failures should stop me from attending my dream college and pursuing my hopes and aspirations. My failures were a delay: a semicolon instead of a period, and they were a teacher. I learned about my limits and my abilities and increased my self-awareness. I took risks and failed, but got back up, and am no longer afraid to make mistakes. These qualities mean that what I can achieve in college and in life is truly limitless.

High school isn’t just about classroom learning, it’s about learning who you are. I learned about myself, while also building solid organizational skills and a strong motivation to succeed. My creativity bloomed while my emotions gained depth, both aiding my artistic abilities. Napoleon Hill, an author I read about in history class, once said: “Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit.” I have that seed. Will you help me plant it?