Reflection Paper On Asb

The last time I was deeply disappointed in myself was in eighth grade. I decided to try to be accepted into ASB again. ASB, the Associated Student Body of CDM, was the mastermind of almost all activities that occurred on campus. The last time I tried out for this organization was during sixth grade, and I had been rejected. However, this time, I was more confident. I came to school, and I immediately started walking toward my locker, which was near the ASB room. As I was walking, I saw a paper messily taped to the dark blue door of the ASB room. I was certain it had to be the list of people who made ASB. Nervousness started creeping up my spine like a snake; however, I was wrong. It wasn’t a so-called “cut” list; it was just the schedule for when the
interviews were for each person who applied. I located my name on the list, and next to my name it said “Tuesday, April 27, 9:45 a.m.” I was elated that I made the interview stage, but I glumly realized that everyone who submitted an application got an interview. However, there was still good news. Only seven freshman had tried out, and I knew ASB would only take four of these seven students. I was content; I recognized the fact that I had a really good chance of getting accepted.
I felt nervous from when I saw the interview schedule all the way until I got a note from the office to go to the ASB room two days later. This occurred in the middle of my second period English class. I told Ms. Payne that I had to go. As I walked from the Enclave to the ASB room, I could hear the students walking in the halls, giggling obnoxiously. I also heard a steady whiz sound very near me; it was Fernando and Tami driving around the campus on their golf cart, snatching up students who ditched class. The snake of anxiety once again made its way up my back, and I wondered, “What am I going to say? What will they ask me?” I finally reached the ASB room, after an eternity of walking.
My body, acting on its own, stumbled up to the door of the ASB room; all I had on my mind was the interview. I noticed the interview schedule still taped to the door. I put my hand on the warm, metal handle of the door, clenched the handle like it was a million dollars in cash, and pulled. After about 15 minutes of asking me questions, Mr. Almquist said that he would post the list of those who made it on the ASB room’s door in two days. Then, he said that I could go to break. When I left, I found my friends and told them that my interview had gone well. I was relieved that I had gotten this anxiety for the interview off my shoulders, since it had been haunting me for days. Now came the excruciating pain of waiting to see who would be accepted, and who would be rejected. The day had come. I hastily rushed to the ASB room after taking one step on campus. I walked to the door, and saw the four names on the list. I did not find my name. I had not made it, once again. Not once, but twice had the people at ASB told me that I wasn’t good enough to be a part of their group. My friend, who had been accepted, told me, “It’s alright. Maybe ASB just isn’t for
you.” “I think so too,” I replied, “maybe it just isn’t one of my strong suits.” This was the second time in my life that I had been told I wasn’t good enough. From that exact moment that I was looking at the list, I made an oath to myself that I would work even harder than I was working before. I began to study a lot more than I used to, taking school and any task as seriously as possible. Whenever I do well on an exam or quiz, I always look back to that day. In short, I never want to be told that I am not good enough ever again. I will always work as hard as I can to never be told that I am not good enough. This rejection has shaped who I am and how hard I work, even to this day.