Selected Passage from The Iliad (Book 6, translated by Robert Fagles): "But now, taking my child in my arms, I pray that he will be first in glory among the Trojans, strong and brave, and rule all Troy in power, and someday people will say, ‘He is a better man than his father,’ as he comes home from battle. And may he bring bloody spoils back to his mother, and make her proud.” Essay My central claim is that this passage reveals the conflict between the expectations we inherit and the people we hope to become, and that this conflict feels surprisingly familiar to a young woman entering adulthood. Reading it at fourteen and again at eighteen showed me how a text can stay the same while I change around it. When I returned to these lines in college, I saw not a heroic fantasy but a father wrestling with uncertainty, fear, and hope for the future. What once felt abstract became something that made sense in my life. I first read this scene as a high school freshman. At that age, I saw Hector’s words as a straightforward wish for his son to be great. I read it the way most ninth graders read ancient texts. I was trying to understand the plot more than the people. I thought the message was about strength and war and fathers wanting their sons to win glory. I did not notice anything beneath those ideas. Honestly, I mostly felt disconnected. I was fourteen, living in Massachusetts, worrying about volleyball tryouts and algebra quizzes. I couldn't imagine a world where a father’s deepest hope for his son involved returning from battle with spoils. It felt like a story from far away, written for someone who lived a very different life. When I reread the Iliad and encountered the same passage again during my freshman year of college, I was surprised by my new insight. Only a few years had passed, but I was reading it with new experiences and a more mature understanding. The first thing that struck me was the simple phrase “I pray.” I had skimmed right past it in high school. Back then, I saw it as just another verb. But now the word stopped me. It told me that even one of the greatest warriors in Western literature is still a man who cannot control what will happen to the people he loves. He can fight armies, but he cannot make his son’s future what he wants it to bless with certainty. He can only lift his voice and his hope upward. As someone who has grown up with spiritual roots, the vulnerability in that moment resonated with me. My parents have prayed for my future. Those prayers have never been demands or expectations. They have always been expressions of love mixed with trepidation. Reading Hector’s words through this lens helped me see him differently. He was not boasting when he hoped his son would be strong. He was reaching for something beyond himself, just like parents everywhere, just like the adults in my own life who want me to succeed in college and grow into someone who stands firm and strong. Another line that changed meaning for me was the hope that people would someday say the son was better than his father. As a teenager, I thought this was an egotistical line, something like a hero wanting his legacy secured. When I read it again at eighteen, it kind of felt heartbreaking. It showed me a man who is painfully aware of his own flaws. Hector does not ask for just a copy of himself. He prays his son will be an improvement of him. I understand this idea more now that I have had time to think about the sacrifices my own parents have made to give me a chance at education and opportunity. They do not expect me to repeat their paths. They hope I will build something new, something freer, something that honors what they lived through by going past it. The final part of the passage, where Hector imagines his son bringing home “bloody spoils,” once seemed unkind and violent to me. When I read it as a college freshman, its meaning shifted. Instead of focusing on the literal war imagery, I recognized the emotional truth behind it. In Hector's world, those spoils represented proof of survival, evidence of hard work and symbols of an achievement. In my world, those symbols look like grades that reflect hours of studying, or opportunities earned through hard work, or even the courage to be the first in my family to navigate college life. When Hector imagines his wife feeling proud, I see my own mother’s pride when I call home with good news, or my siblings’ excitement when I tell them about the things I'm getting to do. The specific details differ across thousands of years, but the emotions are the same. Looking back, I realize how much the roles of women in The Iliad shaped the way I read this scene. When I first encountered this text as a ninth grader, the lack of agency among the women made me angry. Andromache could not fight beside her husband. She could not choose their fate. She could only beg him to stay. As a teenage girl who was just starting to understand feminism, I thought of her as a symbol of women’s oppression in ancient literature. But coming back to her as an eighteen year old, I saw more of her depth. Andromache is the emotional spine of the moment. She represents fear, wisdom, and a realistic understanding of loss. While Hector imagines his son’s future glory, she sees the risks. I appreciated the way the poem gives her space to speak, even though the world around her restricts her power. Her emotional courage feels familiar to me as a young woman navigating a world that still holds gendered expectations. I know what it feels like to want to protect the people I love without having control over their choices. I know what it feels like to be both strong and afraid at the same time. That's true courage. Rereading this passage made me realize how much I had changed between fourteen and eighteen. At fourteen, I was learning how to live with new independence but in familiar places. At eighteen, I am learning how to live with new independence but far away from home. I am figuring out what true independence looks like. I am working, studying and going to classes but I still want to have a social life. I am trying to balance the person I want to be with the person others hope I'll become. The uncertainty in Hector’s voice feels familiar. So does the mix of courage and helplessness that fills the scene. I recognize the hope that a future could be better than the past. I recognize the fear that things could go wrong. I recognize myself in a way I had not expected. The spiritual dimension of the passage also deepened for me with age. When Hector lifts his prayer, he is acknowledging the limits of being human. He is admitting that his courage does not guarantee safety or success. I relate to that now. As I've moved into adulthood, I learned that no matter how hard I work, not everything is in my control. Coming to college required faith that the sacrifices would be worth it. Continuing on hard days requires belief that I am being shaped by something greater than any single mistake. Reading Hector’s prayer reminded me that even in ancient stories, strength and faith are not opposites. They work together. What surprised me the most about returning to this passage was how close it felt. A text I had once thought of as something close to a museum exhibit suddenly felt like a conversation between people. Hector’s hope for his son reminded me of the hopes my family carries for me. Andromache’s fear reminded me of the times I have worried about people I love. The image of a child held between two parents reminded me that becoming an adult means stepping into the future while still feeling the presence of those who raised you. I expected a war poem to teach me about battles. Instead it taught me about how there can be softness inside strength. The Iliad has a reputation for being a poem about rage and violence. But this moment shows that it is also a poem about family, hope, grief, and love. It is about the way people try to protect what they can't guarantee. It is about the quiet moments that reveal the deepest truths. When I read it again as an eighteen year old college student, I found a story about the anxieties of growing up, the uncertainty of the future, the weight of inherited expectations, and the hope that we can rise above what came before us. Those things feel as real in my life as they would have in ancient Troy. This passage helped me see that ancient literature is not distant at all. It contains the same emotions I carry with me into adulthood. It taught me that even in a world full of turmoil, people still pray, still hope, still fear, still love, and still dream that their children will grow into someone strong enough to face whatever comes. That is the meaning I carry with me from these lines and the reason they continue to shape how I understand myself and the world I am stepping into.

Faith has always been a part of my life, shaping my values. My faith has helped me make decisions and figure out challenges. My belief in God has been a source of strength, guiding me through adversity and helping me find purpose in hardships. I believe my Heavenly Father has my best interest in heart and if I only ask He will help guide me to make meaningful choices in my life. One of the most significant ways faith has impacted my life is by giving me strength in difficult times. Growing up my family has always faced financial struggles, which made pursuing some education and extracurricular activities challenging. However, my faith reassured me that I was not alone. I believed that God had a purpose for me, and through prayer and hard work, I’ve found opportunities that allowed me to have a fulfilling highschool experience. My faith taught me the value of hard work and to trust in God. This mindset gave me the motivation to excel in school, take on leadership roles, and embrace service opportunities despite challenges. Faith has also shaped my perspective on leadership and service. My belief in Christ’s example of selflessness has guided me in my leadership and volunteer roles. The scriptures taught me to lead with compassion, patience, and a willingness to help. These experiences have influenced how I will approach my future career in engineering. Engineering is not just about solving technical problems, it's about improving lives. My faith instills in me a responsibility to use my education to help others, not just look for personal success. Additionally, faith provides me with resilience. An important quality for a career in engineering. The challenges in engineering can be scary, with complex problem solving, long hours, and plenty of failure. But my faith reminds me that failing is part of growing. I have learned to approach difficulties with patience and determination, trusting that God has a path for me even when things are uncertain. This belief will help me remain confident in my career, even when I face obstacles. Engineering also requires a lot of decision making. My faith teaches me to act with integrity, ensuring that my work aligns with my values of honesty, responsibility, and caring for others. My faith has been a guiding force throughout my life, providing strength in adversity, helping shape my leadership, and allowing me to seek a career with service and integrity. I know that as I start my engineering education journey, my faith will continue to sustain me, helping me contribute positivity to the world.