Student profile
The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?
With five minutes remaining until the bell, my friend emerged from the sea of students, running towards our class. Today, he would showcase his incredible board-breaking skills. But as he retrieved four, one-inch-thick boards from the depths of his backpack, time seemed to freeze... How would he break those?
“Hey [name], hold these for me, will ya?”
He asked me to assist with his board-breaking demonstration. I looked around and saw that everyone’s gaze was now fixated on me. Naively and reluctantly, I accepted.
I stood by him anxiously, and with sweaty palms, I gripped the thick wooden karate boards for him to strike.
At a moment's notice, he sliced. The boards went flying. My classmates watched in awe as the boards glided through the air. One landed on the roof, one in a tree, and yet another was launched on an unfortunate trajectory straight ahead: towards me.
As if the barrage of teenage acne did not already do enough damage to my face, I was knocked out.
My rightmost incisor tooth dropped dead to the ground. The class’s collective awe quickly faded. Instead of being rushed off to the dentist, I carried through with my day as if nothing happened. Yet, my day was far from normal. My missing tooth attracted everyone’s attention, and each stare served as a reminder of my greatest vulnerability: not knowing when to say no.
Since childhood, I was taught to embrace new opportunities. My parents always told me putting myself in uncomfortable situations would help me learn. Heeding their advice, I never hesitated to try something new.
My mother always wanted me to learn to paint, so I joined art class at a young age. My father wanted me to play soccer, so I joined our local soccer league to make his wish come true. When my friend asked me to help him with his karate board demonstration, I didn’t know how to say no. In fact, whenever anyone asked me to do anything, I always said yes, thinking I would benefit from trying something I hadn’t before.
Unfortunately, this yes-man mentality meant I pleased the interests of others above my own. I lost my individuality and instead became easily shaped by what other people wanted me to be. It took losing a tooth to finally realize this and regain my sense of agency.
In high school, I assured myself that I would say no to the yes-man inside me. Instead of barely dipping my toes in a number of extracurricular activities, I dove head-first into a select few where I would truly challenge myself and grow.
Speech and Debate taught me that in order to win arguments, confidence and critical thinking are essential. This didn’t mean I started arguments simply to disagree with people, but instead, I deliberately learned to speak with purpose on issues that mattered. Whether I debated about the need to regulate the pharmaceutical industry or lift economic sanctions on Venezuela, I learned to back my words with confidence in order to better communicate my ideas.
Robotics taught me that easily-manipulated "yes-men" don’t move projects forward; confident, astute people do. Whether I motioned to implement calculus-driven PID loops to enhance our robot’s autonomous performance or proposed incorporating vision and gyroscopic sensors to further our robot’s precision, I set forth my ideas with assurance and clarity. When my teammates questioned the feasibility of implementation, I couldn’t allow myself to cave into criticism; I learned to build upon feedback to produce a more refined final product.
My now fixed veneer-capped tooth serves as a physical reminder to the gullible "yes-man" that once reigned free within me. However, I will never completely suppress him. I will always say yes to being my own person. I will always say yes to being authentically me, pursuing every action with my own purpose and tenacity of my own strong will.