Riley B. King: The Value Of Education

“The beautiful thing about learning is that no one can take it away from you,” said my hero, Riley B. King, about the value of knowledge. I can’t stress enough the importance of having an education. I must admit though, with huge regret, throughout my academic career I’ve been careless and ungrateful. My ignorance led me to believe that my adult life would consist of manual labor, struggle reaching ends meet, and unhappiness just like my parents today. It wasn’t until a near-death experience, during my gang affiliation, and the day my high school counselor informed me about my availability on attending a university, that I realized the education is essential to my future success. Being undocumented, I grew up frowned upon in society. I had

In my teen years, unfortunately, I was only praised, by family and peers, upon my performance in the soccer field, when and where I believed at the time I had a purpose. I was an avid player and I knew If I became a pro I would be making thousands of dollars to give back my family. My aspiration fell shockingly my junior year in high school, the most important academic year in high school. I tore my hamstring brutally exercising the day before soccer season begun. I didn’t ask for medical treatment and acted if I knew I would be fine. At the time, I was aware that my parents owed a lot of money to credit card companies and also multiple family members. I did not want them to spend a dime on me for what thought was a simple injury, but I was wrong to think so. I couldn’t stand back up for about a month, I was incapable of walking for two months and unable to jog or run until half-year later. I could not regain my condition ever since and I struggled in my return to school two months later since my injury. I gave up on both my goals and my academics. Depression kicked in and I’ve never been the same person since the incident. Before athletics, I was conforming to an unhealthy and criminal-infested culture that introduced me to a life of wrong-doing. I participated in gang-altercations and drugs. My motive of conforming such a life initiated when my grandparents left to live back to Mexico without even saying goodbye. Then matters aggravated when my step-father drinking problem worse making my home turn into tumultuous hell. I felt abandoned and frightened. My escape was this lifestyle that I do so regret. This conformity stopped one day, on my way home walking, in a garden trail when a young homeless man confronted me and a pal, who was accompanying me and also was part of the unlawful lifestyle. The homeless man took