The Key to Happiness by Daniel

The Key to Happiness by Daniel - July 2016 Scholarship Essay

In 6th grade, I sat in a homeroom class taught by one Isabelle-Cruz Garcia*, known to all of us students as Mrs. Cruz*. Like all teachers, and all people, Mrs. Cruz had her good days and her bad days. She possessed that uncanny ability to turn from fire and brimstone angry into giggly and smiley at a moment’s notice. When Mrs. Cruz stayed happy, she was almost the perfect teacher, helpful and cheerful and easygoing. If one was unfortunate enough to catch Mrs. Cruz at the wrong time, however, the whole class might quiver in fear of the consequences. I never understood why Mrs. Cruz emotions were such a tinderbox, until, one day, I thought I had set that tinderbox ablaze.
It was a miserable Tuesday morning in late February, when everything appeared to be going wrong. I woke up late, forgot my lunch, and lost my last pencil. Moreover, Mrs. Cruz decided to start that day with my least favorite (a serious understatement) warm-up in the whole world, an activity that required me to look at a picture and in 7 sentences or more describe what the picture held. At the time, keep in mind, I was 10 years old and did not understand that I was not supposed to just describe the picture, but also to analyze and explain what I saw in the picture. I only thought that my teacher was crazy for making our class expand to 7 sentences the fact that a lion was sitting next to a lamb. I never could compose more than three sentences for this warm up anyway, so in my frustration, I decided to let Mrs. Cruz know how I felt about this stupid warm up and also how I felt about her class in general. It felt good as I turned the paper in and smirked at her. I had finally stuck it to her. Later on in the day, however, I slowly felt more anxious about what would happen when she read my warm-up. Just before lunch, I found out.
Our class was filling out an algebra worksheet silently when Mrs. Cruz began grading the warm-ups. My seat was the second row on the far right side, so I could see her reactions as she read each one. The first couple she seemed indifferent about, one she laughed quietly at, and then a couple more she had a minimal reaction to. Then suddenly, her face dropped, and I knew she had to have found mine. I clarified my initial deduction when she turned and shot an angry glance in my direction. After some brief, fear-inducing eye contact, I looked down at my algebra worksheet and tried to ignore the fact that she was writing something with red ink on my paper.
When she passed the papers back, she gave me a dirty look as she handed me mine. My paper, not surprisingly, contained the words, “see me before lunch.” “So it’ll be a private execution,” I thought. Inevitably, my class’s lunch time came, and while the other students lined up to their freedom in the gymnasium, I was herded into the school office by Mrs. Cruz. My palms were sweaty and I prayed my goodbye prayers. This was the end. Once we reached the office, we entered a small room, and she shut the door behind her. In a soft yet menacing tone, she said to me “happiness is a choice, Daniel.” What? “I know you’re having a bad day, so I’m going to let this warm up thing slide,” she continued, “but you need to know that even when you are having a bad day and don’t feel like being nice to people, that doesn’t give you the right to be rude. Even when you don’t want to be happy, you can choose to be happy. Your emotions cause you to feel a certain way, but you can control your emotions and make yourself feel however you want. If you want to be in a good mood, you’ll choose to be.” I had seriously dodged a bullet, she was in a good mood.
Throughout the day, I kept expecting her to blow up and lecture us about what I did. She somehow managed to stay optimistic all afternoon, and even smiled at me as I went home. In the car, I ruminated over what she had told me. “Happiness is a choice, Daniel,” is that really what she had said? As I pondered what she meant by those words I realized that Mrs.Cruz was trying to tell me that I control my emotions, and not the other way around. I shouldn’t let an emotion consume me enough to change my thought process and decision making. I’m glad I learned that lesson. Too many people mozy through life thinking that an emotion is something that happens to them, but really, and emotion is a controllable decision one’s brain decides to make. When people perform stupid acts, they blame their emotions, avoiding personal responsibility. In reality, though, emotions do not control people, people control people. If there’s one thing I wish everybody learned in 6th grade, that would be it.

*not her real name