My Third Grade: A Personal Statement Analysis

When I sat down, removed my calculator, three number two pencils, and my admission ticket, I started to relax more and more. As the supervisor of the classroom handed out the book of questions along with the answer sheet, I thought to myself, “what if I get a bad score like before?” I knew I wasn’t the best test taker, but I just had to keep telling myself to try my hardest and just see how it goes. As the supervisor said “you have 45 minutes to complete this section of the test, you may start,” I gripped the pencil with my hand, and began to read the question and fill in the best answer of four options.

My math class, Math SL, was known as the most rigorous course at my high school; just that idea alone frightened me. Nonetheless, when some of the top seniors dropped out of the class I panicked. However, I made it through our first semester and was about to begin the final, which determined my grade. As I promptly went through the test I drew a blank and completely panicked, disappointed I told myself there was a necessity in finding another way to achieve an A in the class. At lunch, I swiftly tramped through the halls to my math teacher who challenged me to the task of

Growing up, I was always one of those students who never got anything less than an A. From proudly receiving stickers and praise notes in elementary school to non-stop studying for an algebra test, I’ve always expected an A on my assignments. But then came junior year of high school. I had signed up for one of my school’s most demanding courses, AP Calculus AB. On the first day of class, the teacher explained the depth of the material we would be learning, telling us that it would cover a wide range of math, and showed us a brief introduction to it. He also mentioned that it was a course where we would have to take time and learn the material on our own. Having gotten straight A’s since the day I started attending school, I had no worries towards these statements.

People who know me typically find out pretty quickly that next to my passion for medicine, I am actually one of the world’s hugest computer geeks. In fact, when I first entered college, I toyed with the idea of studying computer science before I realized that the study of the human body was so much more exciting because it allows me to combine my fervor for computers and merge it with my interest in medicine.

It was 5:15 in the morning, and my mother had just finished giving birth to a healthy, 7 pound, baby girl—me. After I was born, my mother had to fend me off from dozens of nurses, who all wanted to hold me and take a look at me. Apparently, I was the only girl to have been born in that hospital that whole night/morning. However, I would have never guessed that this specific occurrence would have been an irony, of sorts, to my identity.

Classmates started to chastise me, and I was embarrassed, but this moment was one of the defining moments of my early life. After I had the incident at the board, my teacher called my parents and my parents decided it would be best for me to receive tutoring. Every Monday and Wednesday night I would sit at the library doing math until my junior year of high school, then I finished math for good in my high school career. This period remains a pivotal moment for me because it showed me what perseverance meant, total failure was never an option for me, and no matter how hard my situation got I pressed

My life has prepared me well for a future in helping others. Having overcame multiple instances of emotional abuse as well as social isolation throughout the course of four straight years, I have developed deep compassion and empathy for others. Being faced with multiple different instances of abuse that not many adults have gone through during my childhood has forced me to view the world in a more serious and objective manner. I have spent endless hours reflecting on my past experiences, comparing myself to others, wondering why things have happened the way they did, and how I can make my life better, even with the poor circumstances I had been given. I’ve remained adamant on becoming selfless and learning how to help others. I’ve

Failing pre-algebra has been the greatest achievement of my life. In the seventh grade, I transferred to my current secondary school. It’s always been a very small place; we were sixteen students in my class that year, and separate honors courses didn't exist. With a C- average, I’d been flunking my math class the entire school year, yet I honestly didn’t care until the day our teacher called a meeting with our parents to explain the upcoming changes of the math department. For the first time, my grade would be taking ability-based courses, and half the class would advance to Algebra 1, and the other to 8th grade math.

“That test was so easy,” my friend Olivia said, turning around to show off her A-. My heart pounded against my rib cage. Was I the only one who got such a low score? Something had to be done. I would have to take initiative of my learning and find out what was wrong.

I had my days where I felt confident that I at least scored at 20 or even a 22.Then I had my days where I felt as if I got a 12 and had to retake the entire test again, I was devastated. But, how was I going to get such a high score I didn’t study whatsoever about the test? I was hoping for a miracle that my guesses on the test would come in handy. I was wrapped around the idea that all I had now was my answer, and I had no way to change it.

Anxiously waiting in math class to receive my grade back, I sat in my chair. I gazed around the room, only to find the rest of my class feeling the same way. This was the day we were given back our test, and this was not just a regular test. This was the test that could make your B turn into an A, with just one high grade. I don’t usually get this nervous to get a test or quiz back, but this was the last test of the marking period, and the most important one. I was seated in the front of the class, meaning I was going to get my test first.

My mother responded “what’s wrong.” I then told her the bleak news on that sunny day on our vacation in Cape May. My schedule for the upcoming junior year was released that afternoon and I didn't just get the hardest math teacher, I got the hardest teacher in the whole school period! It was my worst nightmare. The first day I walked into class, one of the first things that came out of the teacher’s mouth was “test are worth 60% of your quarter grade, so if you mess up on one, your average will be in the toilet.” “Oh boy” I muttered under my breath, “I’m in for it this year.” But believe it or not, as the class went along, I actually liked the teacher. And even more shockingly, I enjoyed math. For the first time ever I truly liked math, and it was because it was hard. I know that seems paradoxical, but it was true. For the first time ever I had to work at math, and I mean really work at math to receive a good grade. But during those hours and hours of work I gained an appreciation for the subject. It was no longer cold hard numbers, but rather I saw how everything was in harmony in math. I started seeing equations as puzzles and I was Sherlock Holmes trying to solve the case. It was enjoyable, not because it came easy, it was enjoyable because it didn't come easy. I had more success in that class than I did in any other math class I ever had. I earned a 98 average and I also got a 100 on the midterm and

By this time, I’d forgotten about the test. Everyone in my eighth grade class, and I of course, received orange envelopes at the ceremony. I was told they contained certificates, along with other documents. The sit-down ended and most of my classmates followed their way outside to take pictures. I overheard my friends talking about what math courses he/she got placed into. I connected the dots which led me to open the envelope quickly. I scrambled through the papers and finally found what I was looking for. I skimmed through the paper once looking out for the most salient part of it. Then twice. Then three times just to comprehend it. My friends badgered me persistently to figure out what course I placed

A personality profile identified me as having an INFJ personality type. This personality type indicates preferences in four key areas; Introversion over Extraversion, Intuition over Sensing, Feeling over Thinking, and Judging over Perceiving. This personality type paints a picture of an individual who primarily lives focused internally utilizing intuition for data gathering with a secondary mode that is external with decisions based on feelings and a strong personal value system. (personalitypage.com, 2015) An in depth examination of the four personality traits and the personality temperament explain how I, as an INFJ, interact within the world, perceive the world, and impact the world with my decisions. Needs work

In our lives, we have to make important choices, and sometimes our choices determine our happiness or sadness. As a Filipino, our families tell us to do well in school and to not make bad choices because they want us to be successful and to have ethical morals. Growing up as a Catholic, I was taught to be obedient and respectful to my family which has shaped who I am today. Yet, I too made some mistakes, and I learned from the consequences. From my failures, I learned to not belittle myself, but to grow.