I remember the first time I really understood school. I was sitting in my Honors English class—the first class I attended after the pandemic—and my teacher revolutionized writing for me: she said, to some effect, that writing is both creative and formulaic…figure out the structure, and the rest is all soul. Until then, I had written off all forms of higher education. I had decided to graduate High School and never look back. In fact, I was only in this class because I accidentally tested into it, as English was the only thing I would’ve considered myself good at. This small conversation with my teacher led to much, much more. From this, I was ignited with the pursuit of education, a belief in myself, and a push to keep this motivation going in everyone I met henceforth.
Aforementioned, my Sophomore english teachers words propelled me to where I am now, but it wasn't just her that had this impact on me. Truthfully, at the end of that school year, the Advanced Placement English Language teacher visited my class and worked to indoctrinate students into her literary-truth based box: I was captivated. She had a maternal energy that I’d been searching for my whole life and unmoving patience. I signed up for that class immediately.
Thus, I took her class. She complimented my writing every time she saw it and sympathized with all my emotions; it felt like she understood every issue I had. Growing up in an abusive household was the main reason I had zero academic motivation. She saw this, and worked with me. She was an educator, a friend, and an advisor: she showed me that I matter, and that I harness the capabilities to do more than naught. She pushed me to do Advanced Placement Literature the next year–which I did, and I passed each test. Then, right before I graduated, I sat in her classroom during lunchtime and she helped me submit a poem I wrote to a publisher. The next week, I got a letter from the publisher saying I would be published in their collective for the spring of ‘25. That was the moment my world changed: this was the moment I knew I wanted my future to be dedicated to education, so I could push the next generation of discouraged students to reach their goals.
Education, to me, has always been bigger than grades. I think the biggest point of learning is retention, especially in relation to real-world scenarios. I believe that each student deserves the same push and understanding that I had; nobody ever knows what others are going through, and it is a unique gift to be somebody who can influence people to work hard, feel confident, and earnestly try their best. I hope to be encouraging and aware, just as my AP Language teacher had been for me. In my personal life, too, I work every day to exude compassion and optimism.
For my age, I have lived a lot of life, and I’ve dealt with overcoming depression in high scool–something that, if it wasn't caught early enough, I would have sabotaged my entire future before it even started. Because of this rebirth, I know how detrimental poor mental health can be in academic settings; with this knowledge, I’ll be able to better understand and communicate with struggling students.
Now, I am the leader of two clubs (one of which, named Vitae Lampada, works to publish young writers in a college-wide magazine, and the other, Rotaract, is entirely service based), the Vice President of Clubs in my student government, which oversees all 30,000 students in my college, and I maintain a strong GPA. None of this would have been possible without that push. Indeed, this exposure to college life has influenced me to want to never leave, and I am now pursuing a Doctorate in English Literature, hoping to become a professor with this degree. I plan to drill into my future students that they are what they work towards, and that the goal of education is exclusively to learn: hopefully, thwarting the “need” of AI usage in their writing while encouraging them to be interactive in their education. I want my future students to leave class knowing that they have fruitful knowledge and the ability to administer change, both within themselves and in the world.