Failure to Success: A Personal and Intellectual Journey by Shaneil

Failure to Success: A Personal and Intellectual Journey by Shaneil - July 2016 Scholarship Essay

During middle school, if there was one thing I came to loathe more than public speaking and math homework, it was history class. For me, nothing was more tedious than trying to memorize countless “terms to remember.” By my freshman year of high school however, I found that history could be more than tolerable, and by my sophomore year, I entered and won the 2012 Palazzo Strozzi essay competition. I, and ten others, were able to spend a month studying art history in the Tuscan region of Italy. As a sixteen year old who had not left the US since I arrived in 2003, I treasured every single day. My time there sparked a love of history, travel, and adventure that I still carry today.
However, although I had found these new passions, by the time I entered college, I had been warned by friends and family that a History major would only leave me in debt with a worthless degree. Thus, I believed that I could only find success by putting aside my love for history to pursue a career in medicine. By my sophomore year, I began to struggle. I knew that I needed calculus and chemistry to complete the pre-requisites for medical school, and for that reason, I refused to rethink my direction even when it became obvious that it was time to do so. For a long time, I was too proud and too insecure to admit that I was struggling. At a college where expectations are high and everyone around me strove for excellence, I did not want to be the one who could not keep up. The emotional and physical stress of my classes quickly took its toll and I spent my winter break worried that I would no longer be welcomed at my school.
When I returned for my spring semester however, I was surprised to receive a letter informing me that I was to be placed on academic probation. I was surprised, not because I thought there would be no consequences for my setbacks, but because I was given another chance to prove that I was capable of success at my school. Therefore, I decided to step away from my previous path to gain some perspective, and I decided to take an African American history course which I thought would benefit me on a personal level. I do not exaggerate when I say that this class, and the professor who taught it, changed my life. By learning about the different aspects of African Diaspora history that have contributed to the complicated struggles that Black people face today, and learning about their triumphs in the face of adversity, I learned so much about myself. I learned to embrace my identity and to embrace my history.
During the first few days of class, my self-confidence in my academic ability was completely shattered. I was fascinated by the assigned readings and I wanted, more than anything, to join in on the riveting conversations that seemed to flow effortlessly between my classmates and the professor. However, each time I told myself to simply raise my hand and voice my opinion, it was like I was paralyzed. Everyone around me was so intelligent and articulate that I felt inadequate. When I met my professor at a department dinner, we had a conversation about the topics discussed in class and I confessed to why I was struggling to participate inside the classroom. By the next class, my professor began to seek my opinions on the assigned readings. She always made an effort to bring me into the conversation with other students until I my confidence and my energy in the class grow so much that sometimes I thought that I was too excited, but I didn’t care. Those discussions and my one-on-one conversations with my professor revitalized something in me that I had not even realized that I’d lost-- my love of learning. My Professor did not treat me as if I was fragile, she challenged my opinions and my interpretations, and there were some papers that were so filled with red ink that I could not imagine how I could possibly salvage it. When I proposed the topic for my final paper, she refused to accept my generic attempt and forced me to delve into the aspects of African American history that we had not covered in class but fascinated me on an intellectual and personal level.
I have taken at least three more classes with that same professor; and now, as I am looking ahead to my future, I've been given the opportunity to spend the fall semester of my senior year studying abroad in the UK, and developing that final paper, into my senior thesis on black women’s Pan-African internationalism and mentorship within the British Empire during the 20th century. For me, this thesis is the culmination of my personal and intellectual journey. Prior to taking my first class with my professor, I had little knowledge of black history and very little pride in my identity as a black person. Through her class I was able to begin to appreciate the parts of my ancestry and my heritage that for most of my life I had undermined and resented. I hope to use this scholarship and my time in London to continue my journey as I take on new challenges and new opportunities.