My classmates and I laugh as we struggle to solve a problem on our AP Computer Science final project with an absurd block of recursive code. After agonizing over the problem for the past thirty minutes, we collectively hold our breath as the code runs once again, cautiously hoping it might be the missing solution. When the program runs as intended, we all turn and grin at each other, congratulating ourselves on this small victory. AP Computer Science was the course that opened my eyes to the fascinating world of programming, one full of infinite possibilities. In the process of creating increasingly difficult applications, I came to love the logical challenges of a complex programming project. There is something magical about learning a new programming language or skills that dually nourishes my mind and leaves me striving to learn more. Solving a project’s logical problems is almost like a game to me—I am eager to explore how far I can push myself and what more I can accomplish. Now, I often find myself lost in lines of code for hours at a time, intent on completing and improving a project. Computer science is much more than just staring at a computer screen by yourself and typing away. It is about collaborating with others, applying your knowledge, and making a difference in the world. As I continue to grow my knowledge and experience, I want to contribute my passion to my future peers as we strive to make the world a better place.

The lights dimmed and the blinding spotlights flashed almost mockingly in my face as I stood on the stage, overwhelmed by nerves. The familiar butterflies in my stomach awoke when a hundred pairs of eyes suddenly shifted to me. I struggled to hide the fierce pounding of my heart by feigning a serene smile. At that moment, rushing panic filled my heart as though I was drowning. I needed a way to escape the fear holding me back. Although it would not be easy, I would work to slowly break down the walls of my cage of fear. For the longest time, I retained a paralyzing fear of performing. Although I had been playing at piano recitals, giving speeches, and performing at dance recitals regularly since I was three, appearing in front of others never became easier. A nagging worry always hovered in the back of my mind—I couldn’t cope if everything went wrong and I publicly humiliated myself. As I grew older, my fear and insecurity festered and morphed into acute anxiety. Hours before any performance, I was incapacitated with worry. At its worst, I couldn’t even muster the strength to eat. I was drowning in my fear, slowly sinking to the ocean floor. So when life threw me a rope to pull myself back to the surface of the water, I knew I had to take it. Two summers ago, my church’s Vacation Bible School (VBS) organizer contacted me to inquire if I would lead the VBS worship team. Fear immediately gripped me at the thought of singing and dancing on stage in front of a large audience. Leading the worship team seemed like such a daunting task. If anything went wrong, I would be ridiculed by my peers daily. Despite my reservations, I responded to the organizer with a resounding yes. Being the VBS worship team leader was the perfect opportunity to slay the demon eating at my confidence: my fear of performing. After a month of preparation for VBS, the first worship session finally arrived. As I waited for the students to enter, my anxious mind whispered that I might perform the wrong motions or sing out of tune. Everyone would make fun of me. Still, I had a job to complete. My team was relying on me to set a good example. I dove in headfirst, throwing caution to the wind and replacing my nervousness with budding confidence. To my relief, the first worship session was a success, and the victory boosted my confidence. Thanks to volunteers’ and teammates’ words of encouragement, the rest of the week became a little less frightening. As the week progressed, I realized no one was truly judging me. It was okay to make mistakes. With each passing day, my insecurities were assuaged, and it became easier to let my fear go. When I simply lived in the moment, I discovered I could enjoy performing and embrace the thrill of uncertainty. Although still present, the fear of performing that used to suffocate me has faded to a faint whisper in the corner of my mind. In the absence of its overbearing presence, my self-confidence has flourished. Now that fear has lost its grip on me, I can embrace new opportunities more readily. I have faith that my abilities and preparation will get me through. Even if I do make a mistake and embarrass myself, it is not the end of the world. Instead, it is an experience I can use to learn and grow. Ultimately, in all things big and small, I must learn to step out of my comfort zone. Only then will I be able to overcome my fears before they overcome me.

Although I have had many great role models in my life, the person I admire most is my piano teacher. Her extraordinary work ethic, perseverance, and compassion inspire me each day. Even in the face of adversity, she has never allowed her hardships to deter her success. As such a successful professional in the piano community, she has not allowed her achievements to make her conceited. She has never lost sight of her passion and where she started. I will always strive to retain the high standard of perseverance, humility, and dedication she has set for me. My piano teacher came from very humble beginnings. Her journey began when she was just a young child, studying the piano, just like me. I vividly remember her telling me a story that has stuck with me to this day: her mom forcing her to wake up at seven in the morning every day to practice piano for an hour before she could eat breakfast. Despite the generational difference between us, I am often able to relate to her experiences. The joy on her face when she mentions working on the same Beethoven Sonata as a senior in high school has never failed to be infectious. She has worked hard to excel as a pianist and become a nationally-respected leader in the field of piano pedagogy. Even with such extraordinary success, she has had her fair share of challenges in life. After her husband passed away, she had to raise three boys as a single mother. At the height of her career, she was a senior piano editor and director of keyboard publications for top music publishers. Five years ago, when she was diagnosed with cancer, she continued to teach even through her chemotherapy treatments. Just a few months ago, her father fell and has needed a wheelchair ever since. I know all of these ordeals have been extremely stressful for her, but she has always continued to fulfill her duty to her students with a smile on her face. My piano teacher’s journey has demonstrated to me that through hard work and perseverance, success is possible. Even with her impressive accomplishments, my piano teacher remains one of the most humble and compassionate people I know. She is truly invested in each of her students. No matter their skill level or personality, she has the unique ability to see and nurture their potential. She goes to great lengths to help her students succeed: providing extra lessons for free; marking fingers, pedalings, and phrasings on sheet music; preparing materials for music theory classes. Her passion, support, and enthusiasm have fostered my love for music. She has taught me to pour myself into the music: to look beyond the notes on the page and find the story and emotions behind them. She always aims to inspire a life-long love of music within her students. She has been an exemplary role model and source of inspiration to me. I aspire to be a piano teacher as well one day, and I want to inspire a new generation of musicians, just like she has.

I held my breath as my teacher handed the first Geometry test of the year back. When I saw the big red 50 at the top of my test, my heart dropped. I was devastated. To me, that 50% was a failure in every sense of the word. As a student who had always excelled in math, getting an F on a math test was a shock. I had failed to live up to my expectations. Making it into the most difficult math course for my grade did little to soothe my bruised pride. Throughout the year, I continued to struggle. As my self-esteem plummeted, so did my motivation. However, with encouragement from friends, family, and my math teacher Mr. Lomas, I was determined to push ahead. I strived to study harder every day and began aiming to understand the concepts rather than just memorizing formulas and theorems. Slowly but surely, my grades began to improve. But more importantly, I realized that my grade in the course wasn’t everything. Although I may not have been doing as well as I would have liked to in the course, I was truly understanding the topics. Unlike before, when I used to regurgitate material I had learned from the textbook, I had the ability to explain why a formula worked. I gave my all to the course. Though I never reached my goal of obtaining an A, I learned important lessons that continue to help me to grow as a person. I am eternally grateful to Mr. Lomas and his notoriously difficult class for pushing me to my full potential. He helped me realize and rectify one of my greatest weaknesses: allowing my failure to hold power over me. Failure is not something to be afraid of. It encourages you to work harder, learn from your mistakes, and reach new heights. In this way, failure can become the impetus for one of your greatest successes.