The Start of an Influence by Monserrat

The Start of an Influence by Monserrat - March 2023 Scholarship Essay

Throughout my years of middle school, I have tended to have a sort of struggle with mathematics. I was used to being praised for my math skills without studying for its many tests, however as soon as I entered hard levels of math in middle school, it was obvious that my non-studying skills were not going to make up. So, in this case, I spent the majority of my 6th and 7th years struggling with a subject I felt embarrassed to ask for any sort of help With, even if I were to ask for the smallest help, I tend to blame myself for even asking any sort of question. But I knew one day that I was going to have to fix these grades somehow, I did not want my parents to disapprove of me not getting into college because of some low eighth grades qualifications, so I put in Marjory of the work. Over the years, I had dealt with decently bad math teachers, glossing over important questions that students had, not explaining how to do the math properly, and placing math questions on tests that were not even taught. So, when my eighth-grade year came along, I experienced to experience the same sort of thing, a bit more due to a double math block. But to this day, I was suppressed by the reality I had gotten in that class.

My history as an academic student was always decent, I was never below nor never really on top. I got a few awards for my art pieces and academe awards for being Hispanic, but nothing ever really big. I was often an A and B student in elementary school, but once I moved up, Cs and Ds became more prominent. I also did not have much help from my parents, who were already struggling with the harsh lower-class work environment given to them as immigrants. They tend to work around two jobs, one during the weekdays and the other during the weekends. My dad got the worst of it, going through racial profiling from many people, working long hours, and with harsh conditions outside. So, with all that, they had no time for me in hopes of school wise, but they did their best, and I realized that at such an early age. However, even with their support, they were often disappointed in my low grades, punishing me for them. I had worked hard, no doubt, but not to the level of success my parents and I had hoped for. 6th and 7th grade were also the times when I struggled to know myself, going through my first gay relationship that ended, being outcasted by a group of friends simply due to my interest being weird, and the slow spiral into depression. But I knew my mental health in other factors were getting in the way of everything, so I dropped a sizable number of friends and put my head in the game, knowing that this was now or never.

I had never really thought about the effects teachers would have on their students, whether emotional or educational wised. But yet, this new math teacher was new to me, in a positive scene. She had let the students ask questions about a lesson, even if it was some sort of stupid question. She took her time with the kids she taught and helped them if they were a little stuck. As soon as she taught the many lessons to come, I felt comfortable in being in her class, like it was some sort of escape from reality. It helped me to realize I had some sort of love-hate relationship with mathematics. By following her methods instead of what the county had given her, I felt like I could accomplish any math problem given to me, although I would be exaggerating a bit. She had such a positive influence on me that once I had graduated middle school, I would continue to see her during high school just to say “hello” and to even ask for help along with my high school math levels.

I knew from experience that the people in my life would affect the choices in which I make further on in the future, sadly I had only been exposed to the bad part of that effect. However, with my eighth-grade math teacher, I was given such a positive light in a dark tunnel of fear. My old teacher had motivated me and encouraged me to be determined, even when I was no longer her actual student, she is still really the only teacher I feel like I could talk to her about, insignificant things of course. My life was filled with such negativity, having lost a sizable number of friends in hopes that it would improve much of the academic side of my life, and facing heartbreak from some people I had believed that I could love and trust. My teacher was able to help this “poor,” “angry,” Hispanic girl, as others had labeled me, to be able to get awards in her sophomore year of high school, motivating her to continue to live with the challenges that she has faced. There have been many times in which I hope she realizes the impact that she currently has on my life, and I will visit her once more.