143. First experiences can be defining. Cite a first experience that you have had and explain its impact on you. (University of Pennsylvania)
Walking up the "high school ramp" was a terrifying experience, but one that I would think about all summer. The long walk to the main building seemed so frightening and seemed far fetched, that it would give me goose bumps thinking about it. The last year of middle school was a piece of cake. I enjoyed every minute of it. Though there were ups and downs, I still looked forward to the rest of my days with my friends. Thinking about leaving the safe haven, made me sad as well though. Some of my old roommates were leaving which was upsetting but there were new friends to make as well. But at the end of the day, I was most scared of facing the teachers who I heard would pile you on with work and wouldn't care about how many tests you had. They would still want their work to get done.
I entered my first English class, excited to be in highschool and be an "adult". Or that's what I thought anyways. I sat there feeling all mature and high headed and tried to learn everything my english teacher said. She talked a lot, but I felt like I was learning more than ever. My old English teacher in grade 8 wouldn't challenge us enough, and it wasn't hard to get A's in her class. My new english teacher however, seemed so enthusiastic and engaged in learning. In one week, my book was filled with notes. But the end of the week soon approached, and we were handed an assignment. She explained that our we needed to write a summary on something we had recently read during the week. As we had discussed how to write a summary during that week, I felt pretty confident. I guess my ego was high as well because I thought the summary would be a piece of cake. I finished earlier than most people during the following weekend. I read it and re-read it and thought I had perfected it. I turned it in and anticipated my first grade of my high school career. I hadn't clarified it with my English teacher and just handed it in on Tuesday morning. I had enough time to go to her and check it over, but I thought that I was amazing at writing and just handed it in, confidently.
It was last period of Friday, and I was excited about getting my piece of writing back. I was jumping from my seat when she was handing back my essay. When she called my name, I immediately got up and practically snatched it from her. But the minute I laid my eyes on that big red mark on the top of the page, my face dropped and tears welled up in my eyes. I looked at the C close and hard and I couldn't believe my eyes. Most people around me got better grades than me. I don't mean to compare, but I had worked hard on that assignment.
I ran down to dorms that day after school and I promised myself that I would work hard and check my work with others. More than that, I promised myself not to be over confident and finally understood that the expectations set in high school are much greater than those set in middle school. From then on, I tried my hardest to get my work checked by my teachers or peers. I wouldn't always succeed, and to this day, I don't always succeed, but I try. Not only to get higher grades and be the best I can be, but also to learn. At the end of the day, what counts is how much we learned, not what our grades are. With true learning, comes high grades. Or so I believe.
Walking up the "high school ramp" was a terrifying experience, but one that I would think about all summer. The long walk to the main building seemed so frightening and seemed far fetched, that it would give me goose bumps thinking about it. The last year of middle school was a piece of cake. I enjoyed every minute of it. Though there were ups and downs, I still looked forward to the rest of my days with my friends. Thinking about leaving the safe haven, made me sad as well though. Some of my old roommates were leaving which was upsetting but there were new friends to make as well. But at the end of the day, I was most scared of facing the teachers who I heard would pile you on with work and wouldn't care about how many tests you had. They would still want their work to get done.
I entered my first English class, excited to be in highschool and be an "adult". Or that's what I thought anyways. I sat there feeling all mature and high headed and tried to learn everything my english teacher said. She talked a lot, but I felt like I was learning more than ever. My old English teacher in grade 8 wouldn't challenge us enough, and it wasn't hard to get A's in her class. My new english teacher however, seemed so enthusiastic and engaged in learning. In one week, my book was filled with notes. But the end of the week soon approached, and we were handed an assignment. She explained that our we needed to write a summary on something we had recently read during the week. As we had discussed how to write a summary during that week, I felt pretty confident. I guess my ego was high as well because I thought the summary would be a piece of cake. I finished earlier than most people during the following weekend. I read it and re-read it and thought I had perfected it. I turned it in and anticipated my first grade of my high school career. I hadn't clarified it with my English teacher and just handed it in on Tuesday morning. I had enough time to go to her and check it over, but I thought that I was amazing at writing and just handed it in, confidently.
It was last period of Friday, and I was excited about getting my piece of writing back. I was jumping from my seat when she was handing back my essay. When she called my name, I immediately got up and practically snatched it from her. But the minute I laid my eyes on that big red mark on the top of the page, my face dropped and tears welled up in my eyes. I looked at the C close and hard and I couldn't believe my eyes. Most people around me got better grades than me. I don't mean to compare, but I had worked hard on that assignment.
I ran down to dorms that day after school and I promised myself that I would work hard and check my work with others. More than that, I promised myself not to be over confident and finally understood that the expectations set in high school are much greater than those set in middle school. From then on, I tried my hardest to get my work checked by my teachers or peers. I wouldn't always succeed, and to this day, I don't always succeed, but I try. Not only to get higher grades and be the best I can be, but also to learn. At the end of the day, what counts is how much we learned, not what our grades are. With true learning, comes high grades. Or so I believe.
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