Fourteen Years Later by Cassandra

Fourteen Years Later by Cassandra - June 2017 Scholarship Essay

The younger the child the seemingly more career possibilities exist and choosing a career as we age can be an intimidating thing. Lifelong dreams become less of a priority as pressures to select a feasible career to take precedence. As an adult, listening to the dreams and aspirations of those I tutor fill me with hope and make me reminisce about what I wanted to be when I was young. Alongside the blatantly obvious desire to be a Disney Princess warrior queen with magic powers and an assemblage of adoring subjects, my creative side drove my desire to be an artist. Seeing videos of animators working to create my favorite animated classic movies and television shows inspired me most of all. From that point, I spent all of my free time drawing, sculpting, and creating whatever I could to satisfy my need for a creative outlet.
At age six, the world was still pretty new and the possibilities remained bountiful. I was no longer in kindergarten and school became more than a half day priority. For the majority of my childhood, I was shy, reserved, and intimidated by most around me. At age eleven, my family was forced to move from Michigan to Tennessee, a culture that I would discover was the complete antithesis of my own. While every aspect of my life continued changing, art remained consistent. The small school I attended held 900 students consisting of all twelve grades and kindergarten in a singular building. This one school held only a single art class and was, like most art programs, significantly underfunded. For two years, my curriculum did not consist of an art class, leaving me to make do with the page corners of my homework. By the time I was able to take an art class, the teacher tragically passed away and the program was cut entirely. I decided then that it must not be my fate or in my best interest to be an artist.
Leaving high school meant I had to start deciding how I would spend the rest of my life and live with that decision. At seventeen, I chose to be a teacher; the education curriculum was comprised of reviewing and learning to teach what I already knew and there was always a job waiting at the end of the road. I was, for a time, oddly contented with my decision, despite knowing it would take all of the mystery out of life. My mother was, at the time, studying to be a teacher and I felt somewhat obligated to carry on a legacy. While studying education in college, a professor said something to the class that struck me to my core. “If you aren’t like anyone in your major, you’re in the wrong major.” This left me awestruck and forced me to confront something I had been conveniently ignoring; I was not like any of my peers. While in grade school, I disliked most aspects of it, and, by pursuing a teaching career, I was condemning myself to relive this malcontent for the rest of my working life. I had reverted back to the shy six-year-old, overwhelmed by all. I immediately went back to my dorm and filled out a form to change my major.
That was one year ago. I have decided to throw practicality aside to pursue my dreams as an animator. Fourteen years later, I am getting a second chance at a childhood dream and could not be more excited and inspired by life and what lies ahead.