The following is an essay I wrote for English class in response to a prompt that read something along the lines of, “Write a personal narrative of an experience in your life, show what you learned, and show how you have grown.” If you’re looking for essays to read, this is a good example. Enjoy!
“…Chauncey Taylor!” the pastor called, prompting me to walk up the aisle and shake the imposing man’s hand. The primary donor, a motherly woman sitting in the front row, smiled and clapped with the congregation as I stepped onto the altar. It all felt so surreal; the pastor introduced me and my situation, but I had never had so much attention and weight on my shoulders as I did that day on the altar..
“…put your hands together for brother Chauncey!” the pastor concluded. A few brief seconds of applause erupted through the sanctuary as the microphone fell to my hand. I realized it was now my turn, and as I brought the microphone to my mouth, the sanctuary instantly fell silent. How did I get here?
***
Two months prior, an email from my mother stood out in my inbox; she rarely uses her email, so it piqued my curiosity. Clicking it, I saw that she had replied to an email sent two years ago; I had just become eligible for a brotherhood I took an interest in, and my mother resurfaced the email. A few more replies later, I am suddenly tasked with writing an essay and recording a short introduction video around the same time sophomores shift their focus to final exams for the year.
At first, I found this extremely inconvenient, but after looking over the email thread once more, my mother had emailed back and forth with the brotherhood about a Harvard Medical School summer program. The buzzword caught my eye and convinced me to throw my hat in. I stressed myself out and stretched myself thin between school, my obligations as a big brother, and these new responsibilities. My mental health was not perfect, to begin with; this new burden made it worse, and it showed in school and at home. Nonetheless, I pressed forward. One heartwarming essay, an extensively rehearsed video, and a congratulatory email later, and I am inducted as a scholar at Greeks United International.
A representative from GUI reached out to me a month later regarding the Harvard program. My heart fluttered reading the title, only to sink as the email told me I had less than a week to fulfill the requirements, from health insurance to two more short essays. The ensuing days were, yet again, a mixture of a healthy dose of chaos, plenty of stress, and juggling priorities, but I could already see the grand, marble Harvard Medical School sign in my future. It would all be worth it.
After practically hounding my guidance counselor to finish their recommendation and throwing together my high school transcript, I submitted my application and held my breath for the next week.
They accepted me! What’s more, a friend, a part of my church’s leadership, offered to pay for most of the acceptance fee on the church’s behalf! It would, however, come at a cost; the grant did not cover food and lodging.
Fortunately, the representative from GUI invited me to speak to the congregation as a general introduction to how I operate academically and what I see in my future. They gave me a month’s notice to prepare for the most important and influential five minutes of my adolescent life.
Within the first two days of this notice, I had a speech written and revised. I forwarded it to my parents, friends, teachers, and anyone else I knew. I even let ChatGPT give its input. For the following three weeks, I balanced studying for finals and rehearsing for the thrilling yet foreboding oratory, the date slowly creeping closer day by day. Two weeks turned into one week, which shortened to a few days. One morning, I woke up and realized that the presentation I had prepared was only a day away.
Inevitably, that Sunday morning came around. The morning replays in my head all the time; I woke up early, exhausted and slightly burnt out. I prepared for the day and dressed in a formal polo shirt with khakis; I took far too much time pondering this simple appearance, only to forget to iron the pants I settled on. It only added to the tension, but now wasn’t the time to fill my head with thoughts of dread. One moment, I twiddled my thumbs, mumbling my speech to myself on the car ride to church. The next moment, I stood alone on the altar with a microphone in my hand and all eyes on me.
And so, I started.
I introduced myself, I recited Proverbs 22:6, “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it,” and I repeated a common slogan in our church, “Know who we are in Christ, Embrace who we are in Christ, and Walk Out who Christ says we are.” This simple start helped lead me into the rest of my speech, and strangely, miraculously, the words began to flow, to come to me. Much of what I said came from my script, but I ventured off the beaten path just a little to pick a few special roses for my audience, roses I could have never bought at any bouquet shop. I found comfort on the altar as I paced back and forth across it. I cracked a joke, and the audience laughed; I made a great point, and they filled the sanctuary with applause. Any anxiety I had, any doubts or worries that lingered in my mind seemed to melt away; my confidence came from the congregation, and I finished before I knew it.
In hindsight, I realized how stressed I was beforehand and how much I stumbled over myself, yet I still gave the speech. I still found the words, I still summoned the courage to speak despite my shortcomings, and I never would have thought the worries and doubts that were so human could be behind something so spectacular. Countless times, I find myself pulling my abilities thin, often sacrificing my health to “get the job done.” I constantly push myself to make sure what I produce is purposeful and substantial; most of the time, my ambition can be beneficial, and it helps me strive for greatness. Other times, however, my blind ambition can often drive me to chase perfection, some unrealistic goal, the golden fruit far too high to reach.
This experience helped me learn that I’m human and that it’s okay to tend to my emotions and health. I learned that stretching myself thin does no good for anyone; had I properly managed my mental health and avoided burnout, my speech may have been ten times better. Since this milestone in my life, I have kept myself from sacrificing my health for results, and I feel that it has helped me in more ways than one.
“Thank you,” I crescendoed. “Again, I’m Chauncey Taylor! Remember that name!” The standing ovation echoed in my ears. I spotted my dad recording, smiling with pride beside my little sister. A week later, I learned I had raised over $3,000 for my trip to Harvard Medical School. This speech still stands as my most significant accomplishment to this day, but most importantly, I learned that it’s better to leave the roboting to the robots.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:18 NIV