Who I Am (Scholarship Essay)

When I was a toddler, I would attempt to tell my family stories about my time at Kindergarten, like the kid who sang “Maria and Tony sitting in a tree,” or the poor boy who peed his pants while doing Show and Tell in front of the class, but the stories were always horribly relayed. I thought I was telling these humorous stories with amazing punch lines, but, in reality, my detailed hour long retelling of a thirty second event was constantly stuck in the rising point, and never quite made it to the climax. My family would laugh at me, telling me that my storytelling needed serious improvement. After one particularly harsh guffaw from my brother, I vowed that I would become the greatest storyteller in the family. I was six years old.

My first novel was titled “What the Three Little Pigs Do When No One Is Looking.” It was for my second grade class, with my own hand drawn illustrations. The plot was great, with a phenomenal climax in which readers learn that the Three Little Pigs “shave their chiny chin chins” when no one is looking. 

I am pursuing English because it has been my passion since I was six years old. I love the creativity and freedom in writing. I like the feeling of knowing that I am creating an entirely unique story and arrangement of words every time my pen touches the paper. Tranquility rushes over me when I write, and I know I will happily write as a hobby for the rest of my life.

Career wise, however, I will be taking English in a more utilitarian direction rather than creative. I became intrigued with English via storytelling and creative writing, but I am sticking with English because of its necessity in everyday life. I grew up with a father who is easily confused. My dad will read a sign and point out the flaws, showing us how people could easily misinterpret the meaning. He showed me the affect of one comma, the importance of every word, and how detrimental flawed communication can be. Due to his influence, I have developed a keen eye for detail, and will establish myself as an editor in a business of any sort where I can ensure easy readability for all customers. Also, since I love noticing tiny and seemingly insignificant details, I am considering pursuing law. Although the strenuous education intimidates me, I can see my dedication to detail and love for information encouraging me to pursue a career in the research end of law. 

The reason I have become impassioned in regards to English, and, more broadly, life, is because of my mom’s cancer. When I was nine years old, my mother was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer, which was simultaneously attacking her liver. The prognosis for such a diagnosis is bleak; most patients with this cancer do not live past five years. As a young child navigating these depressing ideas of my mom passing too soon, along with never having met my grandfathers, both of my grandmothers slowly deteriorating from Alzheimer’s disease, one of which passed away when I was twelve, losing two uncles in the same week, and attending six family funerals within one year, I was overly exposed to the fragility of life. Being so intimately familiar with the briefness of life, I threw myself into everything that came my way. I fell in love with English and began taking every opportunity that came my way, from Power of the Pen States competition, to writing a memoir for a mother of a worker at Walsh Jesuit. I travel as much as possible, making sure to write about each trip. I take advantage of life, and I always document the adventures that come along with living. 

When I declared my desire to be the best storyteller in the family, I had the innocent mind of a six year old. I thought my stories would include brutal battle scenes between beasts and heroes. I drew these monsters in a notebook with my pencil, assigning them powers and drawing scary horns on them. Now, twelve years later, I understand that there are monsters in this world that you do not need to imagine and draw in your notebook with a pencil. Monsters lurk in every corner in life, pouncing at everyone who dares enter their cave. They are not fiction; they dwell in real life, present day, tangoing with every human on Earth. These monsters take various forms, but they are all sketched into the world with pen, impossible to erase but easy to cover up. They may introduce themselves as cancer, or drugs, or even just as a seemingly fine human looking for directions. Everyone battles these monsters in their own way. I have found that traversing the tortuous roads of life with other people around me and a pen to document the journey has been the easiest way to move past these monsters.