I had been dreading this day, but finally, it came: the day I started my Common App Personal Statement. I stared at my computer screen thinking, trying to put something on the blank page, but nothing came. I truly had no clue where to begin. I didn’t want to write about my involvement in sports or my love for marine biology, they were too cliché; I had to write about something unique to me. Then it hit me: write about my brother.
Prior to junior year, writing had never been my strong suit. Which was not only a bummer to me but my parents. Both my parents are incredible writers and have put tremendous pressure on me to write well. I was creative but could not put pen to paper in a transparent way. My old essays were filled with misplaced “howevers,” bad transitions, and very choppy sentences. That all changed junior year with a combination of ACT prep and a brutally hard English class. For me, junior year was a writing bootcamp.
I credit my mechanical improvement to my tutor Mikey. The Berkeley graduate spent hours working with me, forcing me to memorize the various grammar rules for the English section of the test. Slowly, throughout the first semester of junior year, I picked them up. I was able to work through the English section with relative ease. I was proud of myself for improving this much. I went from below average to near perfect on the section, it was clear my mechanics had improved. What I had not realized, though, is how it transferred over to my writing.
Ms. Everett is notorious at my high school for having the hardest class. At the end of the semester, kids smiled if they finish with a C. So obviously, I was worried that my GPA would plummet going into her class. And, after the first week, my concerns came to fruition; my first pop-quiz grade earned me a solid 8%, a terrifyingly low score (even for me), which jolted me to my senses and made me realize that I always need to be prepared. Regardless of how prepared I was, it didn’t stop me from getting a C on the quiz the following day. There was little feedback on my short answer questions, so I scheduled a meeting with her. Even though this was the first one-on-one conversation I had with her, she treated me like I was an old student of hers – she got straight to the point. She told me my mechanics are off, that I change tenses, I can’t transition among other things. I knew I had to put in work if I wanted to succeed, and that is exactly what I did.
I spent countless lunch periods and after school sessions meeting with her. After every assignment, I stayed in her room asking for feedback. As the semester continued, I felt my writing anxiety slip away and it was clear to me, that perhaps, my writing was improving. The combination of Mikey’s ACT prep and Ms. Everett’s one-on-one sessions, scary as they were, made me much more confident.
Once it hit me, to write about my brother, I Instantly began to type all ideas I could on the page. My brother has autism, but I knew writing about just that was not enough. I didn’t want it to be a pity, sob story, but I wanted to write so other people were able to understand what it was like having an autistic sibling. I wanted to combine something ordinary and unique to me with a story about my brother. I decided to write about Scuba Diving.
Diving is euphoric for me. I love knowing I may be looking at something no one else has seen: the first to explore a cave or see a lionfish claim new territory. I’ve even developed an interest in underwater photography, taking pictures of scenes that no one would otherwise see. But the most special part of diving for me is the time I share with my family – especially my brother Jack, who’s always my dive buddy. Although Jack sometimes struggles to be understood in everyday life, below the surface his fidgets and social awkwardness disappear. Instead, he joins me in exploring underwater caves, and together we thrive in our own secret world.
Finally, I had finished. It was time for another pair of eyes to read my work. Before showing my College Counselor, Ms. Everett, or Mikey, I wanted my mom to read it. I knew the risk of showing her first. I could already hear the “I don’t like this, let’s do another topic” before I handed her my laptop. I was prepared for failure. But that didn’t happen. In fact, she didn’t say a word. She looked up with a tear in her eye, hugged me, and said “I love you.”
That was the main moment that brought confidence to my writing. Mikey and Ms. Everett were pivotal to my growth as a writer, but it was my mom’s approval and love that put me over the edge.