Keep Fighting the Good Fight by Linh

Keep Fighting the Good Fight by Linh - October 2019 Scholarship Essay

My dad grew up in an era where education was neither enforced nor valued. The 60’s were a dark time for him: he lost his mother at a young age, worked full-time to support his family, and fell prey to the stark fear culture that accompanied war. Stuck in a rural Oregon town, full of tractors and unbudgeable thought, he now wistfully recalls how few of his peers ended up crossing the stage at graduation, lost to either the draft to Vietnam, or the alluring promise of wealth in the bigger cities. He himself barely made it — under immense pressure to start working and be a provider at such a young age, there were several moments along the bumpy road where he considered giving up his dreams, in order to cater to his family’s.

In the end, however, it was those same dreams that drove him onward. Above all else, he wanted desperately to be a writer. He only truly thrived in English classes; his now-yellowed math and science notebooks are filled past the margins with scraps of poems and snippets of song. Working through the night and studying past dawn, the only thing that kept him motivated was the hope beyond hope that someday he’d make it, and then they’d all see.

And see they did. Against all imposed odds, he graduated as valedictorian, and soared into the University of Oregon on the wings of all the scholarships his hard work had earned. He’d been offered several degree-specific full rides as well — however, he was faithful to his dream, and finally had the resources (and freedom!) to turn them down. Four years later, he walked out the door, wielding the culmination of all his dreams on a single flowery document, ready to take on the world that had threatened to take everything from him.

Some people, in the face of adversity, choose to take their anger out on anything they can place blame on. However, some choose instead to show the world the love and kindness they’d wished to receive. Despite the hardships my father had been put through, he exercised the same power — the drive that had gotten him through college, and beyond — to give me everything he’d never had. He worked tedious hours, so I wouldn’t have to make the same sacrifice. He lived frugally, saving up so I could afford to go to school wherever and do whatever I wanted. He fought back against anyone who dared to challenge my dreams, so I’d never be too bogged down by failure. He went through hell and back, just so I’d always know someone would believe in me, even if there were times I couldn’t.

My journey certainly hasn’t been easy either, but I learned very quickly that it’s hard to give up, when someone so wholeheartedly believes that you can make it through. I’ve suffered from depression and PTSD most of my life, and the toll it’s taken on my education is monstrous. Time and again I find myself doubting my mind, the value of my education, the very purpose of my existence; when it comes down to it, though, I know where my worth lies. Through toil and sacrifice, he gifted it to me, and I owe it to him to keep fighting.