I'm not a "____ person" by Sarah

I'm not a "____ person" by Sarah - December 2016 Scholarship Essay

“I’ve sprung a leak” were the words that came from my AP Calculus teacher’s mouth as he stared at the blood dripping down his leg, coagulating on the floor in front of my desk. I, along with the entire class, remained perfectly still, staring at him with thinly veiled horror. It was day three of AP Calculus, and in an attempt to execute a live-action demonstration of a jump discontinuity, my 6’7” teacher had, in a surprising show of agility, leapt onto my desk. Well, he’d tried anyways. He managed to catch the front of his shin on the corner of my desk, ripping right through his pant leg and a good deal of skin. And there I was, front row, second desk from the left, and absolutely terrified of my towering, bleeding, math teacher. See, even without him oozing suspiciously black-looking blood close enough that I could smell the copper, I was in the last place I wanted to be: math class.
I am not a math person by any stretch of the imagination, but AP Calc was a must have for all of my top colleges. So, at the end of my sophomore year, I had kissed my 4.0 goodbye and signed up for the following fall. But HOLY! Only three days in and I was seriously considering taking my admission chances with AP Computer Science. But… I decided to stick it out because quitting leaves a decidedly bitter taste in my mouth.
The whole “blood, sweat, and tears” saying? Yeah. AP Calculus produced all three within the first semester. I don’t mean to sound like a whiny perfectionist, but up until that class, my lowest grade was an A-… I got a D on the first test. Cue the proverbial fountain of tears. That day I went in after school for help. Now, at this point, I still flinched whenever my teacher so much as glanced in my general direction (he had a proclivity for calling on me every time I knew the exact wrong answer). But I could not abide a D, so I pulled myself together and went in for help. And… it helped. Loads. I’ve never left a math classroom feeling so encouraged because far from the brow-beating drillmaster that occupied class time, in the afterhours, my teacher was more than willing to help. All he wanted was someone to show that they cared as much about their education as he did about educating them.
I went in every single day after school. I even stopped caring about my grade because I came to realize that a grade is simply a reflection of effort. And I was giving every ounce of effort I could give. The grade would follow. And eventually, it did. I finished off the year with the 4.00 I never thought I would see again, squeezed the life out of my teacher after watering the front of his shirt with eyeball sweat, and when I clicked on the Collegeboard AP scores link this last summer, a 5 was staring back at me.
I am exceedingly proud I got a 5 on the AP Calculus exam, but in all honesty, the number and its buying power do not interest me anywhere near as much as what it represents. I was not a math person. I abhorred the subject in its entirety, but earning that 5 showed me that you don’t have to be a “math person” to succeed. All you need is persistence and positivity, and the rest will fall in line. I have been able to translate this philosophy, making sure that I don’t count myself out before giving everything I’ve got. I am proud that I was able to quash the narrative of self-doubt that clung to me like sweat to skin, leaving the shackles of not being a “math (or any other subject) person” firmly and forever behind me.