I never in my life did expect one day to write an essay for the Spanish Travel Scholarship and to write it in English! Fifteen year ago I was a typical Italian architecture student who, beyond doubt, had not yet established her role in the local, national, and global community, or her purpose in life. I spent my college years making my parents proud, and fulfilling teachers’ expectations. Nevertheless architecture wasn’t my college decision. It was my dad’s dream.
I grew up as the youngest of six children, finishing high school was very important to my brothers and sisters, but finishing college was never really stressed to them by my mother. Three of my siblings went to college but they never completed college. For some reason my mom put more pressure on me than she did my siblings and said that I have no choice but to graduate from college. I sat out of school for several years in order to raise my son and my mom continued to tell me everyday that I needed to re enroll and complete my teaching degree. I feel that as minority it is very important for me to complete my teaching degree, there is a small percentage of minority teachers in the state of West Virginia.
I am smart, intelligent, and responsible. The choices that I made as a young adult caused my GPA to suffer. Some semesters I put forth a little more effort and other semesters I didn’t. In Summer 2005, my family and I were hit with the news that my grandfather was diagnosed with Lung cancer. The one thing that I wanted in life was to make my grandparents proud of the person they had raised and for them to see me walk across the stage and graduate with my degree.
Morphew. She was a great teacher and she taught me so many new things throughout that year but it was not the same without Mr. Lemons. I grew very close to Ms. Morphew in that short year and as I was ready to start out my senior year with her, she had breaking news. She got a job offer back at her hometown that she could not pass up. I was heartbroken again but I understood that she needed that job close to her home.
My mother has been the motivating force from grade school to secondary school. My mother was the parent that stayed up with me until 12 o’clock doing science fair projects and if we weren’t done, she would tuck me into bed and she would stay awake to finish the project before it was due. My mother was the mighty woman who would stay up late at night and help me write a paper, trying her best to understand the concepts I was learning in class when she did not attend college and she struggled completing high school. Consequently, due to my mother’s lack of educational experience, she made sure her children received the best education. My mother pushed me to go to a magnet school, and I told
But still, I knew that it would just feel so good to leave some tire tread on the paper. I had not written a thesis as an undergrad, and I was looking forward to this process. It took some time for me to find a professor willing to work with me, but after a number of false starts, I finally came to Peter Heinegg’s door. My thesis was based on the disparate work of Nathaniel Hawthorne and radical feminist theologian Mary Daly. Each week that I left Peter’s office, I found myself laden with at least five books that he deemed absolutely crucial to my writing and thinking process.
Raised by parents who taught me to never give up I have made it to my senior year of college. The road hasn't always been easy for me. My parents are both disabled and by the time I was in 7th grade my math homework was far beyond what they could help me with. They never quit encouraging me though and pushed me to become all I could be. Once I reached college and was away from home my parents could not afford to support me financially and their ability to encourage me was lower.
I created a two column layout, I drew my grandmother and myself on the left side and I wrote the story on the right side. On Monday morning I woke up one hour earlier than I normally do. I was excited to present my story to my classmates. My teacher liked the story, although a few of my classmates did not understand why I did not choose my mother instead. I did not have an answer for them, I was too young to understand the type of relationship I h... ... middle of paper ... ...tice is to open our eyes and simply look around.” (Bender, 1997, p. 120) .
In the beginning of my freshman year, I was very excited about coming to Howard University because I fell in love with the school. In my first year I took about 18 credit hours convinced that college would be similar to high school. My first semester felt extremely overwhelming, I thought that I could handle my classes, and I convinced myself that I did not need help but I had only proved by the end of that semester that I was wrong. I did not know how to study well, and I could rely on my “smarts” to get me through classes that were rigorous. I enrolled myself without counseling in Spanish 2, calculus 1, and freshman composition and I struggled the entire way, my pride just would not let me admit that I needed help.
They keep giving me gifts as rewards to keep me motivated. They always fulfill my wishes. I never understand why they do that to me. Until one Saturday morning, when I step up on the stage getting my high school diploma, I realize how important it is for my parents. I never know how valuable education is until I see them crying.