Journey to Resilience by Regina

Journey to Resilience by Regina - July 2016 Scholarship Essay

I was fourteen at that time, short, chubby, and eager to learn anything and everything there is to succeed in high school. Transition from a small sized middle school hadn’t been easy; my high school had two floors, all of which were decorated by medallions, white paint, trophies, and paintings that radiated school pride. My French class rested down on the second floor of the old building, with a small scratched label, reading 529, Brackett.

The room was buzzing, as if bees were singing in a festive chorus, excitement pounded in the air. My dad trailed behind me, following my footsteps, waiting to meet my French teacher. Her name is Madame Brackett-Madame for Mrs. in French and Brackett stood for her last name. Her short black bob lined with delicate silver hair-she reminded me of my own grandmother, kind and soft-spoken. I fumbled nervously through my thoughts. She carried a slight accent which I worried would cause my inefficiency in comprehending and interpreting her words. In the first week of school though, she’d explained to us that she is French and that she’d come to live in America for her husband because he is American born. Her personality resembled that of a caring grandmother, tough, yet respectful, demanding yet laidback. Under her, my French blossomed, little by little.

“How can you give up when you haven’t even tried”? I squirmed in my seat as if to stretch my ears in order to listen to Madame Brackett’s lecture. She sat with a senior, a troublemaker who sat in the back of the classroom, content with inaction; he kept a head of long overgrown hair that radiated an air of carelessness and a face of stubbles, presumably left-overs from a roughly shaved beard. She had pulled him over to one side, concerned with his attitude with education. Being the noisy girl I was, I strained my ears and quietly listened, for I knew that she was giving out a valuable lesson. “I don’t have any time left to try. My GPA (grade point average) is a 2.1”, he said softly. “You have a year left, you have time, you must try with everything you have instead of sitting back and doing nothing every day in my class”, she explained. “Nothing will ever be achieved if you don’t give it a shot”. The senior successfully graduated high school and I firmly believed that she played a catalytic part in his educational career or even his entire life. Her words stayed on my mind, etched in my brain-I’d never forget her words.

Fast-forward to my sophomore year; I failed Chemistry. It was plain old Chemistry, not gifted Chemistry, not accelerated placement chemistry. I failed a simple, regular, high school Chemistry class. At that time period, I felt miserable, completely worthless and obviously unintelligent. As I sat bawling in the counselor’s office, I’d never forget the pitiful look in her eyes. She called over a blond haired counselor and asked whether there’s anything I could do to recover the credit. As the counselor shuffled in the small room, my counselor replied softly, “she failed Chemistry”. The blond haired counselor glanced at me with the same pity and judgment. “Well, she can recover her Chemistry credit but she’ll have a seventy and her failing (Chemistry) grade will appear on her transcript as well”, she stated. I agreed to take the credit recovery course and walked out with a pair of tear filled, red bloodshot eyes. At that moment, I had remembered my French teacher’s words: “How can you give up when you haven’t even tried”? It was then and there that I told myself that I’d never give up until I have succeeded.

Two years later that summer, I am now a high school graduate, ready to embark on my college journey beginning in August. Due to my efforts in Junior and Senior year, my final cumulative GPA is an A. Due to my French teacher, I had the courage to stand up after a horrible scrape; because of her entrance into my life, I had listened to a piece of priceless advice that I will hold dearly in my heart forever. What is the most important lesson I have learned from my French teacher? I have understood the root definition of one word: resilience.