Rooted in Growth by Venessa

Rooted in Growth by Venessa - February 2026 Scholarship Essay

Every morning, before I leave for school, I water my plants. Right outside in the backyard, unremarkable to anyone else. But to me, it is a daily reminder that growth happens quietly and patiently and that it must first take root beneath the soil before it can bloom to the surface.

As winter fades and spring prepares to blossom, I bring out the pots and mix the soil with manure, placing my bell pepper seedlings that were incubated all winter. I water them gently. Before the sun rises, in the quiet of the morning air, I tend to them again.

This was my first time planting, so I enthusiastically expected immediate sprouts. I searched for new leaves, stems, fruit, flowers…anything? Nothing. No visible change. No proof of life forming.

But beneath the soil, roots were growing.

In 2020, when I moved to the United States during the height of COVID-19, I felt like that seedling in unfamiliar soil. While adjusting to a new education system, I faced a language barrier that made even simple conversations intimidating. I did not know how to pronounce certain words correctly. I struggled to express my thoughts clearly. In class, I avoided group discussions, not because I lacked ideas, but because I feared being ridiculed when others could not understand what I was trying to say.

Like the seed underground, my growth was invisible.

So I created my own version of watering the soil. Every day, I used Khan Academy and YouTube to learn English. I practiced pronunciation, sentence structure, and conversation skills. I held my Chromebook close to my ears, clicking the back arrow repeatedly until I could mirror the speaker’s tone. I practiced speaking alone in my room. I attended every ESL tutoring session available. My progress felt slow and, at times, embarrassing. But I kept showing up.

Slowly, a small sprout appeared.

One day, when my teacher asked a question, even though I was hesitant, my hand went up and I answered the question. It felt relieving to speak. Soon, I began answering questions more often. My sentences were not perfect, but they were stronger. I started engaging in group projects instead of avoiding them. Each conversation felt like a new leaf unfolding. The fear that once hugged me began to loosen its grip.

The plant grew taller, its leaves stretching tall into the sky.

Over time, my growth became visible to others. In particular, I was recognized as Student of the Month. The honor was more than an achievement; it was proof that the girl who once felt invisible was finally seen.

Months after planting, my bell pepper produced its first fruit, it was small and green at first, but then gradually turned bold red.

Later, I placed third in a DECA competition, where I stood before judges and delivered a formal presentation in English. The same language that once intimidated me became the tool through which I communicated with confidence.

More fruits grew, not suddenly, but as the result of consistent care and effort.

My academic journey has followed the same pattern. Success did not happen overnight. It grew from repetition and discipline.The small habit of watering my bell pepper has symbolically shaped my academic journey, teaching me that growth requires patience, and that with consistency and hardwork, it will eventually flourish. The awards and recognition are the visible peppers, but they are rooted in unseen effort: hours of practice, tutoring sessions, and the decision to speak up despite insecurities.

Every morning, I water my plants. I no longer search the soil for immediate growth because I understand now that the most important part is happening beneath the surface. I am the gardener of my own growth. While the fruits may be visible, the roots are what sustain it. Each day I water my plants. And each day, both visible and invisible, I water my future.