Six to Seventeen by Virginia

Six to Seventeen by Virginia - June 2017 Scholarship Essay

When I was six, my obsessions were coloring and television; a beautiful, American combination. I was obsessed with actors and singers and how wonderful all their lives seemed. My heart was set on singing or acting as a full-time career, just like the many other young girls growing up in the 2000s; a time where teens ruled television and where anything and everything seemed so attainable.
Yet as I matured, I learned that not everyone could be famous; but I still had a very strong-willed hope.
Around the sixth grade, I fell in academics; my first year of middle school seemed much too daunting for someone so small. I had never had a failing grade in my life that I could remember, and yet I had an F in English for one six-week time-span; a class where I had been told I had the most promise. It didn’t hurt at the time since so much had already been going on, and truth be told, I’m not so sure how my grade got so low. I remember my mother coming to the school, and only talking to my English teacher, during a parent-teacher conference night. They found it had been because I hadn’t turned my assignments in on time- or even at all. Of course, I had to pick myself up, dust off, and find a way to deal with my new surroundings and workload.
The reason I mention this failure is because the same year that it happened, my ideas of success and what to pursue were inspired. On my yearbook, in cursive script, pink pen, was a message from my sixth-grade English teacher:
“Virginia, you have an unique writing talent, and I hope you will continue to explore it. I look forward to reading your novels.”
Twelve year-old me was blown away, but was given strength to stand her ground from the whipping wind. I decided that I wanted to become a novelist then and there, as soon as I finished reading (which took a moment because of all the looping letters).
It was somewhat mentally challenging for me when it came to telling adults what I wanted to be when I grew up, because even though I held a candle for writing stories, I felt it was still unrealistic, despite praise throughout my academic life for creativity and ability. My default answer stuck to working with animals, yet I felt something so different.
Along with writing, I wanted to travel. That was my dream. I lived a life of mediocrity, the farthest travel being to Virginia Beach only four hours away, the number of trips which I could count on one hand. There was something so fascinating about things unseen, the world beyond where my feet had trod, but it felt incomplete.
It seemed obvious that I needed something concrete, and until I was fourteen years-old, that feeling burned a hole into my blanket of security.
When I was fourteen, a freshman in high-school, I started French courses. I found everything intriguing, especially when my teacher would talk of culture, and I wished I had started French sooner. The concept of being able to speak a second language, communicate with other people, visit places I never dreamed possible, understand what some couldn’t- I was in love.
The teacher herself aided in learning. She was so kind, so insightful; she was my favorite teacher my freshman year, and has continued to be my favorite into the present, as I will soon be a senior in her French 4 class.
The largest lesson from the class was not about culture, or food, or language- but opportunity. On the first day of my freshman year, the teacher explained that she had taught English in France for a year, and that was part of how she gained so much knowledge. I had an epiphany: I could become an English teacher and teach English as a foreign language.
I understood that English was taught all over the world, but the thought of teaching it outside of the US had never crossed my mind in fourteen years; and when it did, I realized I could have the best of both worlds: travel and stability. It took time to warm up to the idea since I wasn’t sure if I had the memory for learning another language, but with time I learned I was doing just fine, and that it was a possibility that was also concrete, as teachers would always be needed.
Before I could celebrate, another blockade was already being built: where the traveling sounded nice, I wasn’t sure if teaching was for me or if it would be something to push through. That is, until my junior year, during which I taught fourth and fifth graders French after school for fifteen weeks every Wednesday. I found that teaching was not just distributing information, but continuously learning- even from your students.
I grew up with dreams, that then turned to ideas, and then into plans; the growth attributed to my education. When I was six, I wanted to be famous, rich, and explore the world. As a seventeen year-old, I want to write, travel, teach, and explore.