When beginning high school, many people will say that these years will be the best of our life. No one talks about the struggles, the stress, the tests, or the peer pressure that everyone experiences, especially as a senior.
All through out eight grade I worried that no matter what I would do, I could always have done better. I thought that there would always be someone better, some one to show me up; even on my best of days.
As I got to high school, I was right, there was always someone better. Most people would’ve quit, stopped striving for excellence, but I found my competitive side. If I received a B+ in a class or on an assignment, I know I didn’t give my all. I knew that I had the power to earn that A but I just did not try hard enough. Everyone slacks every now and then, but my main goal was to become a straight A student.
The first time I heard of the top twenty-five banquet at North Harrison was my freshman year, my friends were asking each other if they had made it. A lot of my friends’ parents were boasting about how their precious son/daughter had made it into the top twenty-five; I didn’t. My parents didn’t have the gratifying opportunity to say, “She made it into the top twenty-five of her class; she’s so smart.” And that hurt. How could I be the only friend that didn’t make it to that next level, I promised myself that I’d try harder and become greater, stronger in my education.
Sophomore year and Junior year I was in the top twenty-five, what gratification I felt; not just towards myself but towards my family and friends that had helped me and encouraged me to never give up. I had set a goal and achieved it, I felt like the little girl that once unwrapped her brand new pretty pink Barbie jeep, nearly bursting with excitement.
Through out high school I have accomplished so much, and found a new love in science, math, poetry, everything.
Also, as a high schooler they (the majority of people I associate with) never prepare you to loose a parent, a friend, a person you talk to every day.
In the middle of February, 2012, my father called me around 7 a.m. obviously this wasn’t a good sign, he never called me in the morning, and never before school; the doctor wanted him at Floyd Memorial Hospital ASAP, tests were needed to be run. Nothing sends cold chills up your spine like hearing those words.
A couple days later, the tests had come back positive, he had stage four lung cancer. The doctors were hopeful, it wasn’t curable but treatable, and he would try like hell.
For months my dad underwent chemotherapy, surgery for a port to be put in, and radiation. His back had a huge red whelp from the radiation, he was weak, and lost his appetite. Too many times I hugged my dad as he cried, as we both cried, not wanting to let go. He slowly deteriorated into nothing, his body began to shut down, on June nineteenth God took my father home.
Many other children deserve scholarships, I understand this whole-heartedly, but sometimes you have to look at yourself and say, “I deserve this too. It’s time for me.” The best I can do right now is try for scholarships, as many as I can, not just for myself, not because I deserve it, more-so that my mother and step father don’t have to worry about college or me. This money would lighten an ample load on my family, allowing us to focus on each other.