COLLEGE VISIONS Eleven Exceptional College Essays
2015 – 2016
I Am My Story Every year 12th graders must write a phenomenal two-page college essay that can capture the heart and mind of someone they barely know. This isn’t such an easy task, but the students of the College Visions 12th grade Class of 2016 have successfully accomplished this work and can now check it off their lists. The 11 amazing stories in this booklet have truly captured the hearts and minds of the College Visions staff and we hope they do the same for you. The featured essayists provide us with a sliver of their lives wrapped in words so that we may get to know them on a deeper level. They dive into topics like traveling to a new place, losing a family member, racism, poverty, coin collections and more. Some recurring themes throughout these essays have been the ideas of failure, the need to find balance, and to find yourself. No matter what each of these students faced, nothing could stop them from living a life full of meaning and purpose. They all continued to progress by learning from their mistakes, taking hold of new opportunities, and creating lives of love, balance, and happiness.
...these students are able to share their stories because you believe in College Visions and the work we do.
As you begin to read these pieces, realize that these students are able to share their stories because you believe in College Visions and the work we do. Your constant support allows College Visions to continue making sure students can begin and finish their paths to and through college.
To Ambar, Daniel, D. K., Joshua, Karen, Kendal, Krishna, Lucy, Mahmoud, Maria, Qi, and all the students starting their college journeys, we are amazed with how well you rise to every challenge and we know you will continue to do so as you strive for your college degree. We will be with you every step of the way as you begin the next chapter in your never-ending stories. Monephia Nembhard University of Rhode Island Class of 2015 College Visions Alum College Visions Development and Communications Assistant
Student Essays Qi Wen Chen A Sense of Home Mahmoud Akid Meeting Abraham Lincoln from San Francisco Lucy Pereira No Need to Fear Failure Maria Isabel Marin The Greatest Act of Service Joshua Santos The Path Through Grief Karen Ramirez I Am a Living Story Daniel Louis Finding the Antidote Ambar Olivares Bachata for the Lonesome Kendal Hall In Order To Do Better Krishna Odari A Long Journey to Optimism Dermerkersal Karbah The Dream I Seek Is Out There
A Sense of Home The first day I stepped onto an airplane, I questioned my mom about where we were going during the entire flight. After the three-day, two-night trip, a whole new world appeared. To a young eight-yearold girl, this world was fascinating. There were lawns in front of the houses. Houses were made out of wood. There were basements. Noodles were sweet! This world was strange. The food was different and the language that the people spoke was even stranger. I would never have thought that I would stay in the state of Rhode Island for almost nine years! Summer 2014 came quickly; I found myself in an airplane once again. This time, I was with my mom and seven year old brother. It was like deja vu. I chuckled as he asked mom where we were going. He had the same feeling as I did when I was young, the feeling of anticipation and excitement. He was going into the unknown world of China, while I was going back home. That was what I thought at first. At the airport, I recognized my uncle and aunt the moment I saw them. On the other hand, my brother was confused, so I introduced them as er da jiu (uncle) and er dia jiuma (auntie). I was glad that they had not changed. However, the feeling of being at home started to change when we visited our hometown. It was not as lively as I remembered it. The shops that I knew were closed, and new shops had taken their place. The children that used to run around the streets were grown teenagers and had left the town for a better future. The apartment I used to live in looked small compared to how it seemed before. I felt like a giant as I walked into our apartment. The place I used to live, the home I thought I came back to, was simply not there anymore. Sometimes, I ask myself, “Was coming to America really worth it?� I realize there is no clear answer. I cannot change what has happened in the past. It is a fact that I came to the United States. It is a fact that I now feel more at home in Rhode Island than in China. We can never go home. However, I do not want to feel that I am missing any more than I already am. I can feel at home even when we are far away. Therefore, I am striving for path that could lead me to a future that ensures I am not missing anything that is happening in either of my
Qi Wen Chen HIGH SCHOOL Cranston High School East
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Providence College Rhode Island College University of Rhode Island
countries. To feel more at home, I have made sure to keep traditions that we celebrate in China here in my new home, such as Chinese New Year celebration. While I celebrate American New Year, I also celebrate Chinese New Year, held in February. On this day, my family and I pray to God for a healthy life and happiness, hold a big feast, and exchange red pockets with money for good luck. Keeping our traditions while living in the US made me feel more connected to the culture of my first home. Also, keeping traditions alive helps my brother navigate what I felt in between two cultures.
“Keeping our traditions while living in the US made me feel more connected to the culture of my first home.� Next year, I will share the feelings my brother had as he stepped onto the airplane to China, that feeling of anticipation and excitement. Again, I will be the one that is entering an unknown world, to start a new tradition within my family in a new surrounding as a firstgeneration college student. It may be the first time I will celebrate Chinese New Year without family members. However, that will not limit my celebration. I will continue to create a sense of home wherever I am.
Meeting Abraham Lincoln from San Francisco Walking down the street, I happened to meet Abraham Lincoln. He had some dirt on his shoulder so I wiped it off. As we started to converse, he let me know he was born in San Francisco in 1943, though I reassured him that he did not look his age. After chatting for a while I discovered that Abraham Lincoln was widely known as the man of steel, long before Superman claimed the title. He informed me that his expensive copper coat was ripped off of him and replaced with steel, since copper at the time was needed for World War II.
“History just made more sense this way.”
I found Abraham Lincoln on the 1943 S Steel Wheat penny, which is my favorite coin and first in my collection. Since I was fourteen, coins have been a significant part of my life. They helped spark my interest in American history. Coming from Syria when I was thirteen, I did not know much English or anything about this country’s history. A friend and fellow coin collector gave me the Lincoln penny when he saw that I was interested in learning about WWII. He figured giving me this small piece of metal was like holding a piece of the war in my hand. The coins I collected not only looked amazing, but they told interesting and unique stories. When I obtained a new coin I discovered fantastic stories of every character I would encounter. Having these coins and access to the internet enabled me to expand my knowledge. History just made more sense this way. My extensive research online also helped improve my reading skills. I would go through tons of different websites and articles to learn about the coins. The 1964 JFK half dollar, for example, minted only a month after his assassination, told me of the unsolved case of his murder. The 1880 Indian Head penny brought to life the hardships of the Native Americans. I was able to weave major historical events together and understand how they influenced one another. Today my collection includes more than 300 coins, the oldest dating back to the 1880s. Each coin narrates a unique story of American
Mahmoud Akid HIGH SCHOOL E3 Academy
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Clark University College of the Holy Cross Connecticut College University of Rhode Island
history and culture. You might look at a Peace Dollar and think it is only pocket change, but you might not know that it was designed by Anthony de Francisci, an Italian-American sculptor who won a competition for designs of peace. Since this coin was the last one struck with silver you could almost hear it saying, “I’m one of a kind.” These round shiny objects mean more to me than just metal currency. They were some of my first friends in this country. They provided me companionship and helped me adjust to my new life in the United States. They are tokens fixed with prominent figures who now fill my time with their unique stories. They were my introduction to this country’s rich and complex history, and helped me become a better student. Through my research of each coin, I was able to improve my reading skills. Also, during my research, I encountered new vocabulary, which helped improve my writing skills. My curiosity of coins expanded to the topics covered in school, and school became more interesting. As I continue to build my coin collection I am excited to unlock even more interesting stories. There is learning with every coin I pick up. I can only imagine the learning that awaits me in college.
No Need to Fear Failure I stood there by the stage motionless without knowing what to do; my hands were shaking and my eyes filled with tears when I noticed that everyone was laughing at me. The only thing that I could think was, “How did I let that happen? How did I get to this point?” My senses could have helped me, but instead they turned off while I was drowning in my pit of shame. As a person, I have experienced many failures in my personal, social, and academic life, but I will never forget the day that I cried in front of hundreds of people during the National Honor Society’s ceremony. I had been bullied in middle school for being too shy, tall, and skinny. I used to lock myself in my room and cry all day. The only thing that made me happy was that I have been the best student in my school and that made me proud. When I started my freshman year of high school in Cape Verde, I had the opportunity to be different. All I wanted was to be popular and I cared less about studying, leaving behind the books that made me so happy and took me on wonderful adventures. I started to believe that I already knew everything, and the only thing I wanted to do was to be with my new friends. I was an honor student since kindergarten and in elementary school I was able to study two years at once and finish early. My parents’ approval was very important to me, so one of my goals was to become a member of the National Honor Society. Unfortunately, I failed at first because I was too confident about my grades, which made me lazy and selfish. Secondly, I was too busy trying to be another person and, thirdly, who wants to be a nerd and be bullied again? On the ceremony day, believing that I was selected I joined the other students for the National Honor Society meeting, regardless of the fact that they did not send me an invitation letter. When I realized that was happening, I broke into tears in front of hundreds of students, aggravating the situation. The problem was that my GPA was below the record; I was devastated, and embarrassed. My failure helped me understand not only what I did wrong, but also it helped me understand myself better. I realized that it was not truly my wish to be a member of the Honor Society: I was doing that to
Lucy Pereira HIGH SCHOOL Shea High School
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Allegheny College Kalamazoo College Roger Williams University
please my parents, my friends and my previous teachers. I learned to be myself, despite the situation and be humble. Without studying, even if you have the potential, you will not achieve anything. Success is ninety nine percent working hard and one percent perseverance; it requires effort. After crying in front of hundreds of students, I finally got the strength to be myself no matter what the circumstance. I became emotionally stronger and overcame my shyness, or part of it. The embarrassment of my failure not only made me the smartest girl in my school, but also the best in Santiago Island. I won several contests and one big national contest where I won a gold medal. I learned that with failure comes strength and the ability to approach situations differently and with a new perspective.
“...I finally got the strength to be myself no matter what the circumstance.�
Now I want to gain the most from my education and learn from my experiences. I want to go to college and then medical school to become a pediatrician and help kids in Africa. I am willing to make the effort, even knowing that it will be difficult for me as a first generation student. I made a mistake, but I am grateful I had the opportunity to learn from it. There is no need to fear failure, but to embrace it as an opportunity to improve upon yourself.
The Greatest Act of Service “Let no one leave your side without making them feel better and happier.” I seem to repeat these words by Mother Teresa constantly. The quote influences my definition of community service as not just feeding the poor or another graduation requirement, but aiding friends, family, teachers or strangers at any moment I see fit, regardless of being asked. I believe every moment should be a happy one and any time spent angry or wistful is time wasted. When I hit rough patches, I cannot be found wallowing or spreading negative feelings to others. I mask my feelings so that no one should be forced to face the obstacles in my own life as they may surely be dodging their own. Helping others, regardless of how miniscule and inconsequential the help was, is a necessity to me. But at sixteen years old, an experience happened that made me rethink my understanding of helping others. My mom and I had been preparing to visit family in Colombia last winter. We met them in unfortunate circumstances; abuelito was diagnosed with prostate cancer, my prima hospitalized for attempted suicide, and there were custody battles between relatives. The suffering within my family gradually created an ache in my heart and desire to help. I had asked my grandfather if I could accompany him to his doctor’s appointments to which, he later replied, “Para que”(what for), continuously opposing the fact that he had any knowledge of his cancer. Subsequently, my cousin followed in the footsteps of my grandfather. As I listened to her, she vigorously tried to convince me that “nada esta mal” (nothing’s wrong) when in reality, she was hurting.
“I now understand that not every person will always accept the kind of help I want to give immediately.”
Each and every family member rejected my hand to help. I listened to every single word they had to say trying to look for potential options that could maybe help them form possible solutions. Rejected at
Maria Isabel Marin HIGH SCHOOL Cumberland High School
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Guilford College Gustavus Adolphus College Rhode Island College University of Rhode Island
every single circumstance… how could it be? My family wanted to be abandoned in their own suffering. How could someone reject help when all signs point to its necessity? I spent the rest of my time with family remaining a listener, keeping company but doing no more. As I returned home, a change occurred within me and I initially underestimated its strength. I felt stuck, without a purpose; the Maria I had always known would have alleviated any situation, but I had left my own family’s side without making them feel better. Reflecting on my family’s situation made me realize that I had acted hypocritically. I, too, had once ignored help. After my father’s sudden death in middle school, I rejected all therapy sessions provided for me. While I had accepted his death, I did not feel comfortable yet talking to others about the impact of his absence in my life. I wanted time to heal on my own. Years later, the memory of my dad’s death and my family’s current suffering accelerated me to ask for help upon the return of my trip. Reflecting on my own situation made me understand that my family may have been in the same position; perhaps they were not comfortable opening up when asking directly for help and needed to process by themselves before having others process things for them. I now understand that not every person will always accept the kind of help I want to give immediately. However, service continues to be a part of my daily life. Sometimes it can be a big act of service to clothe the homeless, but an equally important act to just be by my friend’s side to listen at two in the morning. The greatest act of service is helping any individual with joy, despite the circumstances. I appreciate the impact I have already made on my friends’ lives and eagerly await the moment I can help others when they are ready.
The Path Through Grief
He was thousands of miles away in Guatemala when I received a phone call. The once familiar living room spun as I tried to figure out how to break the news to my mother. I decided to wait for her to come home instead of calling her at work. I am not exactly sure how I told her he was in a coma, things unfolded so quickly it was a blur. He had only been away for a week visiting his family there. I searched for positive outcomes to offer my mother, but my own fear crowded out my reasoning. How could my father, the tough, hard-working, honorable, compassionate man and foundation of our family be knocked down by the very medication that was meant to help him? He once told me, “people, wherever they come from, should all be treated equally.” Justice was so important to him; he taught me to strive for it. Where was the justice in this? Before I knew it, I was off with my family to Guatemala. By the time we arrived, my father had already passed away. We had missed both the wake and funeral. I missed a month of eighth grade. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t know how to take it in. I felt like I had to be strong while the rest of my family was so upset. I tried to move on with things, to balance out the emotional and financial chaos my family now struggled with. With my father passing, I had to take on more responsibilities to support my family. My grief leaked in wherever it could, often during unrelated activities. The thought of his loss would sometimes strike a chord in me. I especially felt this when good things happened that I could not share with him. I struggled with my emotions, especially at school.
Joshua Santos HIGH SCHOOL JM Walsh School of Performing and Visual Arts
SELECTED COLLEGE CHOICES Guilford College Providence College Rhode Island College University of Rhode Island
At first, I did not know how to deal with the grief or how to relieve it, but I eventually found comfort in church and in running. Despite my shyness, I challenged myself by trying new things, such as joining groups where I could be engaged with other people and share my interests with them. At church, I found people I could talk to about my loss, who did not shy away from discussing pain and healing. I could be honest about my need to keep grieving, in my own time, in my own way. Through these conversations, my acceptance of others’ pain helped them as much as it helped me. Sharing and focusing on others’ needs helped me not grieve in solidarity. Outside of school, I decided to join activities that I could take joy in such as the cross country team. I always enjoyed running and it eventually became an outlet, something I could throw all my emotion into; a physical activity with no goal beyond speed. It was something that lifted my mood, improved my health, and made me focus on what was ahead of me.
“Justice was so important to him; he taught me to strive for it. Where was the justice in this?”
Slowly, I reinvested my energies in school, my faith community, and planning for my future. I began paying attention to activities that supported my development. I realized that when I am unhappy, I need to reach out to my family, my community, and that I have much to offer in return. Before I knew it, my grief transitioned into motivation and determination to support my peers with their issues, discussing morality, and debating ways to improve my community at church and at school. My healing process following his passing influenced me to develop as a leader amongst my peers and community. Doing so has been my form of upholding the kind of justice my father so strongly desired.
I Am a Living Story
For weeks I was in the woods, in these secluded cabins. It was a sweet escape, a bittersweet trap. I was amazed by the bonds between mates in the wilderness and passion and intimacy of wolves. As Leila, I wanted to love, to explore, and to discover, but none of that was happening. In these cabins where I believed I had found my mate, I did not feel quite right; I felt unaccepted. Rage and sorrow and anxiety drove me insane. I did not know where to go, what to say or what to do to make the pain go away. All I wanted was to be with the love of my life and take on all the adventures that were yet to come together. Unfortunately, I’m not Leila, a character in Alpha Meets Rogue. I’m Karen; I live in the smallest state in the United States, where supernatural beings do not exist and “the love of my life” has yet to come. Books gave me what reality could not. In reality, I walked around with a mask of a smile to hide the dark skeletons that haunted me. Everyone saw me as the strong, independent girl, the one who cared for her mother during her cancer treatments. I had to grow up fast, be self-sufficient. I was not living the life that I wanted. I wanted to be carefree; I did not want to be strong for everyone else; I wanted to be happy in my own skin. Once I began to read, I was transported; I could laugh wholeheartedly. One day, I was deep in the Ukrainian mountains surrounded by wolves. Another day, I was contemplating beautiful art in London. When I was reading I felt truly content. I vicariously lived through each character, trying to find an escape from my life.
Karen Ramirez HIGH SCHOOL Academy for Career Exploration
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Rhode Island College University of Rhode Island
Reading became my obsession and consumed me entirely. Because of books, I began to isolate myself from the few individuals I cared for because getting lost in another world helped me forget the present. All my conversations were about the amazing book I was reading at the moment or had read the previous week. Sports, clubs, and social events were mere phantoms to me. Then two years ago, while sitting in youth service at my church, I was shaken out of the illusion I had built for my life. My youth leader, Shirley, was preaching about how an obsession can replace God. Some people obsess about money or a loved one, but right then and there I realized that books had become my obsession. I tried to deny the truth that deep down I had already known, but the thought of not holding a book felt like I was losing a part of me. I understood that what I may love most can be toxic and I have to change if I want to get better. Once I cut back on reading, I reexamined my life, realized how unbalanced it had become and decided I had to start loving my own story. I became involved in internships, leadership roles at school, sports, and somewhere along the way became vegan. Spiritually, I became a different person. Realizing how obsessed I had become about something I enjoy was more than eye opening for me; I now understand the importance of finding balance and accepting my reality.
“Spiritually, I became a different person.�
I have learned how to step back, and to understand that sometimes we switch what we love into something obsessive for comfort. When I took my nose out of a book for a bit, I became in sync with my surroundings and began a profound relationship with myself. Now I want to boldly go towards my future without needing to find refuge. I am more fearlessly confronting future challenges and no longer need the quiet escape of a story. I am a living story that is being written each day.
Finding the Antidote Vile. Nasty. Horrid. These synonyms are commonly uttered at the sight of a cockroach. Scientists have designed potent pesticides to kill off these intruders. The majority will die off, but a few will survive. The ones who live will reproduce and spawn a new generation. In this cyclical pattern, scientists must continue developing new insecticides. Now, compare racism to the existence of roaches. The ideology of racism has the same evolutionary ability as roaches—to survive the extinction and continue to assault the well-being of others. Civil rights activists are in essence the scientists who formulate the pesticides designed to eradicate legal prejudice and racism, but struggle to completely eliminate them. Rather, some parts survive, evolve, and thrive in a new repressive incarnation that needs to be brought to the public eye. This means a new generation of social scientists must continue developing new ways to eliminate this problem. I was always aware of racism, but only within the last three years, since the Trayvon Martin incident, have I realized that racism is still a problem in America. I began to explore the issue to broaden my perspective on prejudice and to find ways to address it. During my research, I found a program called Youth In Action (YIA), a youth-run organization dedicated to developing young people as advocates and leaders of change around social justice. Being surrounded by youth that had similar ideals as myself had a big influence on me; I began understanding the effects racism has on people of color. One afternoon, a YIA mentor described how people of color may not have as much access to resources as their white counterparts. As he spoke, I began to connect the dots, but I did not fully understand how it applied to me. He then spoke about the lack of reform in urban public schools; how the current educational system in Providence mirrors exactly what he previously told me about the education differences between white students and students of color. At that moment, I fully understood that the overt racism that existed during Jim Crow has taken a subtle role today; it has been so embedded into American daily life, it’s seen as normative.
Daniel Louis HIGH SCHOOL Classical High School
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Rhode Island College University of Rhode Island
This year I joined a local school chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). Now I see the results of more than a century of advocacy for basic human rights. The NAACP provided me with an array of mentors who have years of experience. Learning from individuals who have made change on a national level has added to my perspective of finding solutions to social problems. It has given me confidence to continue with this goal. I have powerful people behind me, believing in me, urging me to bring forth my ideals to the world. My purpose of conquering racism has at this point been magnified immensely. The expectation of making a difference now became more real.
“It has given me confidence to continue with this goal.”
Now as a senior, I solidified what I learned from both YIA and NAACP, and it has become my current foundation of thinking. Those influences have led me to this realization—that the people of this time are not dealing the same racism—but rather the evolutionary growth of it. Thus to combat it, we must give birth to a new way to eliminate it. College is my time to develop socially and academically. I also want to use this opportunity to continue expanding my social consciousness by joining campus civil rights and social activist groups. Through those campus organizations, I can further develop myself as an activist. I will use the knowledge I developed and skills I cultivated to contribute to my campus community. I will use all my vigor to find a solution to this societal problem and become that social scientist that will find the antidote for this pestilence.
Bachata for the Lonesome My entire life I had feared the darkness, but in this moment I found nothing more comforting than its embrace. My anxiety level was through the roof, but deep down I was exuberant. I could hear nothing but the breathing of my partner, who held me in his arms, anticipating the lights that would change everything. Within seconds, the curtains pulled back, the lights flashed on, and “Bachata en Nueva York” by Daniel Santacruz blasted through the speakers of the auditorium. It was time to perform. This was one of my many bachata performances. Bachata is a genre of música derived from the Dominican Republic, with a basic three steps that are followed regardless of the song and its tempo. This music, uplifting in sound, but generally about heartbreak, was the soundtrack of my childhood. Every weekend there were family gatherings where bachata was played from arrival to departure. As an only child, these gatherings allowed me an escape from the solitude I felt at home. I was fatherless with a single immigrant mother who spent endless hours working to earn money to feed us. For years, my mother and I lived in poverty—going so far as paying our rent in the only way we could afford— buying the landlord food with the money we received from our Food Stamp allotment. Throughout my childhood I felt alone, so in hard times I found comfort in spending time with relatives.
“My ears began to pick up on the unique sounds of the guitars, the bongos, and the güira.”
Despite my mom’s financial situation at the time, those were what I would consider to be los buenos tiempos (the good old days). Soon, my aunt and uncle filed for divorce, and from then on the bonds in my family slowly deteriorated. Their son, my primo (cousin), developed psychological problems and his family plunged into poverty; the initial
Ambar Olivares HIGH SCHOOL Cranston High School East
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Gustavus Adolphus College Rhode Island College University of Rhode Island
spark that ignited the flame of resentment in my family. Truths were brought to light, fights began, and family ties broke permanently. My mom and I isolated ourselves from the ongoing family feud. I was alone again. Often, my mom and I made trips to the bodega, and the Dominicans singing and dancing bachata across the store reminded me of my family’s gatherings. Hearing it play during car rides made trips rather soothing. I would hear it again at the Hispanic restaurants my mom and I would visit. Although my family’s reunions ceased, bachata always found a way to creep back into my life. It didn’t take long for me to realize that hearing bachata filled me with nostalgia, binding me to memories of better times. I decided to take the time out to listen to bachata more, learning lyrics, and making sense of the Spanish words I had never acknowledged. My ears began to pick up on the unique sounds of the guitars, the bongos, and the güira. The utter beauty and intricacy of bachata music gradually dawned on me. I started taking bachata dance lessons, realized that I was able to retain choreography, and worked hard to execute it flawlessly. Six months later, I was promoted to a dance team. We train twice a week to perfect our technique. At times, we joke around in order to focus, and at others, we despise one another. Yet when it comes time to perform, we leave our anger behind, join hands, and pray for a spectacular performance. In these moments, we live in the music, doing our best to reflect the artist’s passion in our routines. When my family grew apart, the bittersweet memories left me with a deep wound. Being able to express my pain to music that once united us was my way of treating that wound. Eventually, no place made me feel more at home than the dance studio. My dance team became a family in itself. I was a part of that family. After years of solitude, a light broke through the darkness.
In Order To Do Better My brain pounded. The papers slipped through my moist palms. I shuffled through every coherent thought in my head, struggling to find the words to tell the judges, but I found nothing. The other team’s arguments were too strong. The words came at me too fast— the disparity between my skills and my opponent’s experience was too vast. When I stood up at the podium, I knew instantly that I couldn’t do this. I spoke random words, trying to fill my allotted time, just so that I could sit down and finally breathe. I performed a filibuster of nothingness. Filled with disappointment and brimming with anger, my coach looked at me with eyes begging the question, “Why?” But what struck me most was not the chagrin in her voice, but the overwhelming disappointment I felt in myself. Up until that point, I had a reputation as a debater with well thought-out arguments and a smooth style. Now I was the girl tripping on her words, frustrated to the point of tears.
“...holding my own through to the end.”
This event created a chink in my apparent bulletproof confidence. As I replayed the debate in my head, I realized that I wasn’t ready for this level of competition. This was my first debate alone, and I had always worked with a partner who did the bulk of the work. My job was to parrot what he said but with a strong and dynamic delivery. Losing to a great debater is nothing to be ashamed of, but showing up unprepared is unacceptable. More importantly, this experience undermined my confidence and made me reconsider debate. I wasn’t sure that I had what it takes to be a maverick. I thought about going back to softball and participating in my school’s youth advocacy and leadership group. My overwhelming feeling of doubt remained, but it started to fade as the year went on—transitioning from a sense of failure to determination. Several months later, I had the opportunity to face the person who beat me so many tournaments ago. In order to do better, I had to think about what I had done wrong and what I could do differently. I had to be honest with myself. Prior to this
Kendal Hall HIGH SCHOOL Juanita Sanchez Educational Complex
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Howard University Spelman College University of Rhode Island
debate, I relied on my speaking ability and my natural talent rather than preparation and practice—sheer hard work. And because I was so good at it, my friends and team members assumed that I would win with ease. This time, I would have to carefully prepare and hone my arguments. Again I stood at the podium, my clammy hands crinkling the papers. My opponent was even better than before and his rebuttals were just as succinct. Although he was the more experienced debater, I didn’t back down. I spoke with passion, refuting him point by point, and holding my own through to the end. Afterward, I felt terrible, scared to see the same disappointment that I saw in my coach’s eyes reflected in the audience. I twiddled my thumbs, my stomach churning with anxiety as I waited for the judge’s response. “Young lady, you have impressed me, even as the youngest in the debate, you still held your own.” I did not win this debate, but I didn’t expect to. However, I felt happy that I held my own and performed at my best level. Three years later, I stand as a senior in front of my class, delivering a speech as a student adviser, a leader of my peers. I feel confident and ready to dive into our latest project, directing other students and making sure all the important tasks are completed. Doing so, requires a lot of preparation and hard work. Leadership is not just about standing up at the podium and sounding great, it’s about actually being great—about knowing who you are and what you can do.
A Long Journey to Optimism
My mother yelled, “You have to get ready for your final exam!� It was 4:00 am on August 15, 2006 and my mother told me to wake up. I jumped from my bed and ran outside into the dark. I did not want my mother to find me. I was afraid of the large bamboo stick that she was chasing me with because I did not want to do my morning study. Looking back, I wish that she had caught me. If she had, I would not have run into the woman who was standing at the corner; I did not mean to knock her down. Little twelve-year-old hands tried to catch her, but they were too small. My mother called the ambulance and we took her to the hospital. Some of her relatives came to our house and asked me what happened and how it happened. I was in disbelief, convinced that I was going to be severely punished or have to pay a big hospital bill. A couple of days later, my family and I were called into a court and we had to pay 25,000 Nepalese rupees ($200) to cover her medical expenses, vitamins, and medicines for her fast recovery. My family did not have much money. Living in the confines of refugee camps, we made our homes out of bamboo trees and thatch. There were few jobs, poor opportunities for schooling, and not enough food for a good meal. I was so stressed about how I was going to earn the amount of money to pay for her medical expenses. I decided to get a job and started working at a construction site that summer. My job was to carry heavy stones and give them to the mason. The work was
Krishna Odari HIGH SCHOOL Dr. Jorge Alvarez High School
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Dickinson College, Gustavus Adolphus College, University of Rhode Island exhausting but I did not have any other choice. I knew my life had changed that morning, but I was determined to persevere through all that was to come. Once school started in the fall, I had to balance my job and my schoolwork. I did not have money to pay for transportation, so I had to walk. After 3 years of hard work, I was able to pay all of the money that I owed but I still kept working. Then, on July 20, 2012, I came to the United States as a refugee with my parents. This was a part of a Bhutanese refugee resettlement program, which brought Bhutanese refugees that have been deemed in danger in Bhutan, my home country, to the United States. This was the next big step in my journey. We came here because my parents were persecuted in our home country. In September, I started my freshmen year at Dr. Jorge Alvarez High School. The first day of school was intimidating and overwhelming because I did not know any English. As the months went on, I started understanding English. I worked hard to learn English by going to the library, where I spent hours studying and memorizing vocabulary. I wanted to show everyone, including myself, that I was capable of anything. My speaking ability in English grew and I developed confidence in my own work.
“This was the next big step...�
Three years later, I am one of the top nine students in the graduating class of 2016. Now, I want to go to college and continue my studies. I have a much more optimistic view of life and I want to dedicate myself to learning and furthering my education. I am very grateful because I know that not many people from my homeland have the opportunity to go to college. I think of the responsibility that is mine, to make something of myself, and use the opportunities I have been given to help impact the lives of others. This determination will help me be successful in college and in the future.
The Dream I Seek Is Out There Embalmed in poverty, corruption, and war, Liberia is no different from many of the other countries on the African continent. “So many wars, settling scores, bringing us promises, leaving us poor,” this line from the Somali-Canadian rapper and singer K’Naan sums up reality for a majority of the inhabitants of my country. In the 21st century, parts of Liberia still lie in ruin. There are buildings with cracks in them from ammo shells during the wars. In certain cities, vines cover areas that once housed diplomats. In others, gutters in the streets are the most advanced forms of sewage systems. The country’s golden days seem as if they were a thousand lives ago. When my older sister, who was in the United States, filed for my family and I to join her, we moved to the Ivory Coast because Liberia lacked the proper resources for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees’ resettlement program. Conditions in this country were several times better than the area where we resided in Liberia. For the first time we had electricity in our home. No more kerosene lanterns or candles at night. I remember I found it amusing to flick the light switches on and off, until someone yelled at me. Another amenity we had was access to running water; in Liberia we had to make constant trips to wells. Conditions at the time seemed peaceful; we had new friends and welcoming neighbors. Unfortunately, life is no fairy tale. The peace and happiness would not last for long. Late one evening, we heard a deafening noise over our house followed by empty shells falling on the metal roof. I would later find out that there was a helicopter hovering above. Not far in the distance, gunshots rang. My father yanked my siblings and I, and then we bolted out the building. There was no time to grab anything. The clothes we had on and the slippers on our feet were all that accompanied us. My father warned we would only be slowed down. Never in my life had I been so afraid. I did not want to die that day. We traveled into the forest for hours and what seemed to be many miles. I was just a child, my feet hurt and ached. Little did I know, the real journey was just beginning; there were many more miles to cover, physically and mentally.
Dermerkersal Karbah (D. K.) HIGH SCHOOL Classical High School
SELECTED COLLEGE ACCEPTANCES Guilford College Muhlenberg College Rhode Island College University of Rhode Island
I am grateful to have survived the events that occurred in Liberia and the Ivory Coast. For the past ten years, I’ve been living in the United States. Growing up in America, many of these experiences from Africa have helped me value even the simplest of things. There are so many opportunities presented, all one has to do is pursue them. I am also grateful to be able to receive a free, quality education. I take school seriously for this reason. Here, I can focus on my studies and not worry about war or violence. As I further my education, I know there will be even more resources and opportunities for me to improve myself. My goal is to return to Liberia and give youth the educational opportunities I did not have when I inhabited the country, by creating my own nonprofit organization. As one of the African nations heavily devastated by war through the decades, Liberia can only be rebuilt by educating and empowering the next generation of youth. The thought of impacting Liberia gives me a renewed sense of confidence to keep striving forward. The dream I seek is out there and one day I will make it a reality.
“There are so many opportunities presented, all one has to do is pursue them.”
Our Mission When you support College Visions, you provide the strong 1-on-1 advising and innovative programming that lead to outstanding student outcomes. Our model is designed to empower motivated students who want to earn degrees, but have limited college knowledge. Thanks to friends like you, College Visions is guiding 350 first-generation students toward a college degree, economic self-sufficiency, and personal fulfillment. With your help, we will grow to reach 400 young people annually by 2018 and celebrate more powerful essays, more college acceptances, and more college degrees.
Our model is designed to empower motivated students who want to earn degrees, but have limited college knowledge.
• 98% of College Visions students enroll in college directly after high school, compared to 50% of Rhode Island’s low-income high school graduates. • 86% of College Visions students who enter college persist to their second year. Nationally, just 67% of college students, regardless of socioeconomic status, make it to their second year. • 65% of College Visions students earn a college degree within 6 years of college enrollment. Nationally, only 11% of low-income, first-generation college students will earn a bachelor’s degree within 6 years.
131 Washington Street, Suite 205 Providence, Rhode Island 02903 401.490.3996 | www.collegevisions.org Broadening Horizons
About College Visions College Visions empowers low-income and first-generation collegebound students to realize the promise of higher education by providing advising and resources to promote college enrollment, persistence, and graduation. College Visions advances equal access to educational opportunities in historically under-served communities. Founded in 2004, College Visions served 10 high school students in its first class. Our innovative programs support students from applications all the way to college graduation. College Visions students graduate from college at more than 5 times the national average for low-income, first generation students. In 2016, we have grown to reach 350 students. The first five College Visions students graduated from college in 2009, and this spring we will celebrate 225 college graduates.
COLLEGE VISIONS STAFF Raul Cervantes, College Access Program Director Emily Gonzalez, College Access and Success Advisor Joshua Greenberg, Operations Manager Moira Hinderer, Development Director Simon Moore, Executive Director Monephia Nembhard, Development and Communications Assistant Emily Rodriguez, College Success Program Director Gleyribel Rodriguez, College Success Advisor Francesca Zetar, College Access and Success Advisor Special thanks to bottlerocket design group for designing this booklet and to all of the College Visions students who share their stories with us every day.