HIGH SCHOOL ESSAY WINNERS - 2013
Ricardo Iglesias III, Middle College High, Grade 12
Four Years of Forgiveness (Category Winner)
Chantelle Powelson, Independence High, Grade 11, Forgiveness Can Set You Free
Kaitlyn Virden, Independence High, Grade 12, Forgiveness
Mimi Evans, Dougherty Valley High, Grade 10, Five Letters
Taylor Graupe, Independence High, Grade 10, The Power of Understanding and Forgiveness
Honorable Mention
Harsh Wadwa, Doughterty Valley High School, Grade 10, The Blood in My Head
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Ricardo Iglesias III, Middle College High, Grade 12
Four Years of Forgiveness (Category Winner)
Chantelle Powelson, Independence High, Grade 11, Forgiveness Can Set You Free
Kaitlyn Virden, Independence High, Grade 12, Forgiveness
Mimi Evans, Dougherty Valley High, Grade 10, Five Letters
Taylor Graupe, Independence High, Grade 10, The Power of Understanding and Forgiveness
Honorable Mention
Harsh Wadwa, Doughterty Valley High School, Grade 10, The Blood in My Head
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Ricardo Iglesias III, Middle College High, Grade 12
Four Years of Forgiveness
Middle College High School (MCHS) is an accelerated high school where high school students simultaneously take high school classes and college courses at the local community college. Three years ago, after completing an application and having my academic achievements recognized, I was given the privilege to attend the school. Needless to say, I was ecstatic. Unlike other high school students in the district, I was to be immersed in a mature, college environment where I had the opportunity to graduate high school with my Associates Degree in Liberal Arts. But alas, that early high school excitement ceased almost immediately upon starting my freshman years, when the college students from my own classes started to loathe the MCHS students, including
myself.
As I walked in the dimly-lit hallways of the Liberal Arts building, I would hear whispers from some of the college students. I never knew what they were saying, but as they scrutinized me and my peers in the hallways,
I knew those whispers were not praise or compliments. Soon after, I realized why the college students harbored dislike towards MCHS students; they believed that we were “stealing” their spots in the college courses, especially ones involving the introductory science. Some of the college professors also disliked us, simply saying that we were too “immature” to be in a community college environment.
It became difficult to attend classes without feeling like a villain. The situation felt similar to the first year I arrived to the United States, where I was a middle school student and the students from my own class
would tease and belittle me due to my no-brand-name shoes. Only this time, the college students would tease and belittle me due to the fact that I attended a college class with them. Still, I focused during the lectures and tried to ignore the students who would whisper behind my back. Just like Dexter from Dexter’s Laboratory, I refused to the let the “Deedees” in my classroom hold me back from my studies. I continued to perform as I always had: mature in character and meticulous in my actions.
However, feeling the thick tension between the college and high school students, I believed that excelling in my college classes was not enough, so I took more action. I became involved in preparation and supervision of some college events like Earth Day. During my sophomore year, I helped in distribution native plants that were used as prized for visitors, as well as making materials out of recycled resources for children. I even volunteered for high school events like school rallies. Wearing a hair net, I became the “lunch lady” that sold chow mein and orange chicken to both high school and college students.
The thick tension that used to emanate between college and high school students gradually disappeared as I progressed to my senior year. Maybe it was us, the MCHS students, representing the college well or maybe it was the integration of visitors during school events, but whatever it was, the situation in the school definitely improved. Although there are still some college students that disapprove of us in their classes, I have learned to become impervious to their opinions. I continued to act like Dexter: determined to succeed in my classes despite the unfair treatment.
Now a senior, making friends with the college students has become much easier. In my biology class, where I am the only high school student, I have become friends with the college students that I sit with. During
the microscope labs, we would assist each other with labeling the sketches correctly, even going as far as forming study groups before a test. Among the much older college students whom I know consider friends and mentors, I have learned to become self-driven in my studies and sociable with others.
My first year in Middle College High School started off bumpy when I was disapproved of by the college students. It seemed similar to middle school, when my non-existent fashion sense, thick accent, and immigrant status induced nasty glares and whispers from my classmates. However, as I stayed true to my resolve during high school, the situation gradually changed for the better.
As it turns out, I learned to forgive the college students who had belittled me and my peers – even without receiving actual apologies from them. Today, I can survive being a lone high school student in a class filled
with second-year or third-year college students. Overall, from this predicament, I have become more independent and truly determined to stick to my goals. Whatever the environment, whether it is a community college or plain ol’ middle school, I have conquered the odds and obstacles by remaining faithful to my
determination to succeed.
Just like little Dexter, indeed.
_____________________________________________________________________________
myself.
As I walked in the dimly-lit hallways of the Liberal Arts building, I would hear whispers from some of the college students. I never knew what they were saying, but as they scrutinized me and my peers in the hallways,
I knew those whispers were not praise or compliments. Soon after, I realized why the college students harbored dislike towards MCHS students; they believed that we were “stealing” their spots in the college courses, especially ones involving the introductory science. Some of the college professors also disliked us, simply saying that we were too “immature” to be in a community college environment.
It became difficult to attend classes without feeling like a villain. The situation felt similar to the first year I arrived to the United States, where I was a middle school student and the students from my own class
would tease and belittle me due to my no-brand-name shoes. Only this time, the college students would tease and belittle me due to the fact that I attended a college class with them. Still, I focused during the lectures and tried to ignore the students who would whisper behind my back. Just like Dexter from Dexter’s Laboratory, I refused to the let the “Deedees” in my classroom hold me back from my studies. I continued to perform as I always had: mature in character and meticulous in my actions.
However, feeling the thick tension between the college and high school students, I believed that excelling in my college classes was not enough, so I took more action. I became involved in preparation and supervision of some college events like Earth Day. During my sophomore year, I helped in distribution native plants that were used as prized for visitors, as well as making materials out of recycled resources for children. I even volunteered for high school events like school rallies. Wearing a hair net, I became the “lunch lady” that sold chow mein and orange chicken to both high school and college students.
The thick tension that used to emanate between college and high school students gradually disappeared as I progressed to my senior year. Maybe it was us, the MCHS students, representing the college well or maybe it was the integration of visitors during school events, but whatever it was, the situation in the school definitely improved. Although there are still some college students that disapprove of us in their classes, I have learned to become impervious to their opinions. I continued to act like Dexter: determined to succeed in my classes despite the unfair treatment.
Now a senior, making friends with the college students has become much easier. In my biology class, where I am the only high school student, I have become friends with the college students that I sit with. During
the microscope labs, we would assist each other with labeling the sketches correctly, even going as far as forming study groups before a test. Among the much older college students whom I know consider friends and mentors, I have learned to become self-driven in my studies and sociable with others.
My first year in Middle College High School started off bumpy when I was disapproved of by the college students. It seemed similar to middle school, when my non-existent fashion sense, thick accent, and immigrant status induced nasty glares and whispers from my classmates. However, as I stayed true to my resolve during high school, the situation gradually changed for the better.
As it turns out, I learned to forgive the college students who had belittled me and my peers – even without receiving actual apologies from them. Today, I can survive being a lone high school student in a class filled
with second-year or third-year college students. Overall, from this predicament, I have become more independent and truly determined to stick to my goals. Whatever the environment, whether it is a community college or plain ol’ middle school, I have conquered the odds and obstacles by remaining faithful to my
determination to succeed.
Just like little Dexter, indeed.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Chantelle Powelson, Independence High, Grade 11
Forgiveness Can Set You Free
“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”
-Mahatma Gandhi
In my eyes forgiving someone can be one of the hardest things to do. In a lot of situations forgiveness probably isn’t the first thing someone thinks about, I know I didn’t. I felt hatred, I wanted revenge, and most of all I
wanted them to go through what they put me through so they could understand how hurt I was. Forgiving people has never been a strong suit for me, but I’ve learned that without forgiveness you can never be truly
happy.
In July of 2012 I was drugged and attacked at a party. I was scared because I didn’t know who had done this to me. I couldn’t remember a thing. I had no clue what to do. I was embarrassed, so I didn’t tell anyone. I was so overwhelmed with hatred and sadness I didn’t know what to do anymore. One day I finally got the courage to tell someone, and that someone was my mom. She wasn’t mad at me, she was mad at what happened to me. She showed me nothing but love and wanted to do everything she could make me feel better. But even after telling her, I still wanted nothing but for the person who hurt me to know exactly how I felt. I wanted them to go through everything that I did, all the pain, physically and even more, mentally. I never thought I would be able to forgive a person who hurt me so badly. I fell into a depression and thought I would never be able to get out. At my angriest point, I was convinced the person who hurt me did it with full intention and
cruelty.
After months of feeling so broken inside, I realized being depressed my whole life would not make what happened to me go away, it would only make my future relentlessly bleak. Then I had to make the most difficult decision I will probably ever have to make; will I hate them or forgive them? I chose forgiveness. I, to this day, do not know who attacked me. But I want them to know:
I forgive you. I forgive you for all the suffering and misery you put me through. I don’t know what was going
on in your life to make you feel like you needed to do that to me, but whatever it was, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you felt however way you did to make that decision.
Being attacked was the biggest trial I have ever gone though, and probably ever will go through. This trial has made me a thousand times stronger. I feel like God knows that even though what happened to me was definitely not okay, I will now be able to help others. Instead of just being another person to say, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” I can actually say and mean, “I understand what you went through and I’m here to tell you that things will get better and you will be okay. I am proof of that.”
I didn’t want to be the victim my whole life. I didn’t want people to say, “Oh poor Chantelle.” I want people to see that even though I was attacked I could still be an amazing person and do incredible things in my life. I want to be able to be there for others who have gone through the same or similar things I did. Of course, I still have my days that are rougher than others but I no longer consider myself a victim, I am a survivor.
I can make a difference in this world. The things I have gone through have made me strong; they have made me the person I am today. I briefly want to directly speak to anyone who has gone through the same thing or anything similar:
I promise things will get better. Life may seem hard now but just know, you are worth it. You are strong. And most importantly, even though you might not feel this way, you are loved. You are loved by your family and by God. You wouldn’t have been given this trial if you weren’t strong enough to get through it. The hardest, but the best, thing you can do is forgive. A huge weight of anguish will be lifted off of you.
The bottom line is forgiving can seem to be an impossible task but in the end it will be the best choice you will ever make. I promise you will not regret it. In the words of Lewis B. Smedes, “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and to realize the prisoner was you.” Forgiving someone is the best freedom you will ever feel. You no longer hold on to all the anger you did before. Forgive those who cannot forgive themselves. My forgiving them has set me free in a direction I never thought I would see.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
-Mahatma Gandhi
In my eyes forgiving someone can be one of the hardest things to do. In a lot of situations forgiveness probably isn’t the first thing someone thinks about, I know I didn’t. I felt hatred, I wanted revenge, and most of all I
wanted them to go through what they put me through so they could understand how hurt I was. Forgiving people has never been a strong suit for me, but I’ve learned that without forgiveness you can never be truly
happy.
In July of 2012 I was drugged and attacked at a party. I was scared because I didn’t know who had done this to me. I couldn’t remember a thing. I had no clue what to do. I was embarrassed, so I didn’t tell anyone. I was so overwhelmed with hatred and sadness I didn’t know what to do anymore. One day I finally got the courage to tell someone, and that someone was my mom. She wasn’t mad at me, she was mad at what happened to me. She showed me nothing but love and wanted to do everything she could make me feel better. But even after telling her, I still wanted nothing but for the person who hurt me to know exactly how I felt. I wanted them to go through everything that I did, all the pain, physically and even more, mentally. I never thought I would be able to forgive a person who hurt me so badly. I fell into a depression and thought I would never be able to get out. At my angriest point, I was convinced the person who hurt me did it with full intention and
cruelty.
After months of feeling so broken inside, I realized being depressed my whole life would not make what happened to me go away, it would only make my future relentlessly bleak. Then I had to make the most difficult decision I will probably ever have to make; will I hate them or forgive them? I chose forgiveness. I, to this day, do not know who attacked me. But I want them to know:
I forgive you. I forgive you for all the suffering and misery you put me through. I don’t know what was going
on in your life to make you feel like you needed to do that to me, but whatever it was, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you felt however way you did to make that decision.
Being attacked was the biggest trial I have ever gone though, and probably ever will go through. This trial has made me a thousand times stronger. I feel like God knows that even though what happened to me was definitely not okay, I will now be able to help others. Instead of just being another person to say, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” I can actually say and mean, “I understand what you went through and I’m here to tell you that things will get better and you will be okay. I am proof of that.”
I didn’t want to be the victim my whole life. I didn’t want people to say, “Oh poor Chantelle.” I want people to see that even though I was attacked I could still be an amazing person and do incredible things in my life. I want to be able to be there for others who have gone through the same or similar things I did. Of course, I still have my days that are rougher than others but I no longer consider myself a victim, I am a survivor.
I can make a difference in this world. The things I have gone through have made me strong; they have made me the person I am today. I briefly want to directly speak to anyone who has gone through the same thing or anything similar:
I promise things will get better. Life may seem hard now but just know, you are worth it. You are strong. And most importantly, even though you might not feel this way, you are loved. You are loved by your family and by God. You wouldn’t have been given this trial if you weren’t strong enough to get through it. The hardest, but the best, thing you can do is forgive. A huge weight of anguish will be lifted off of you.
The bottom line is forgiving can seem to be an impossible task but in the end it will be the best choice you will ever make. I promise you will not regret it. In the words of Lewis B. Smedes, “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and to realize the prisoner was you.” Forgiving someone is the best freedom you will ever feel. You no longer hold on to all the anger you did before. Forgive those who cannot forgive themselves. My forgiving them has set me free in a direction I never thought I would see.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Mimi Evans, Dougherty Valley High, Grade 10
Five Letters
To him, I was the bitch. Not a bitch, in which case the indefinite determiner could have meant that I was not an exclusively defective being. But the definite article implied the fact that I was the one, the only girl whose
failures and feelings made her a lesser person.
It started in seventh grade band class. I played third clarinet in concert band, a class in which I sat two away from my “best friend”. We got in trouble for talking to each other innumerable times, but there was never any
real punishment for our actions; the game of trying to talk secretly to each other was too much fun. Between us, however, sat a boy with a few ridges of acne and coarse, dark hair. A black hole of human emotion. Elliot.
What started as semi-playful taunts soon turned menacing. I was always the type of girl to respond to an insult, easily provoked and ready for a comeback, usually in the form of the classic “I know you are, but what am I?”
Smart, snappy, and too full of myself for my own good.
And then, one day, he called me the word I'll never forget. The girl who couldn't stop- couldn't resist talking finally had nothing left to say. My body snapped all emotions airtight, stowed in the upright position. The second that syllable escaped his lips, I knew exactly what he was- but what was I?
I was eleven years old.
Does he know how much he hurt me? Can five letters hurt you more than any sticks or stones?
The answer, I found, was yes. I was in the shaky portion of growing up, when one starts to search for meaning and purpose in their existence. His words made me feel like there wasn't any. Whenever I tried searching for answers, I received the same response, “if a guy makes fun of you, it must mean that he likes you.”
How can we, as a society, tie this up to something like “young love”? Where in love is insulting and degrading a fellow person a sign of passion? Too often, I feel, we write off truly hurtful experiences as something created out of the transition through adolescence. In what other civilization, ancient or contemporary, do children get an eight year reprieve from their actions because they suddenly have hormones?
I cried. Oh yes, this is no glorious story of how I vowed to ignore the words of others. Tears were like headaches for me, they came weekly and terribly; the only cure was sleep. I cried so much that after my tear ducts shriveled, sorrow appeared in my music. Apparently, dissonance of the heart reflects itself into chords and stanzas of even the most content harmonies.
Even my teacher's warnings did little to improve my dilemma. Sometimes the words changed, but it was a game of chance with a worn-out deck- eventually Elliot would pull out the card, the ace that would blow down the house I was trying so hard to rebuild.
Eventually, thankfully, our encounters dwindled into nonexistence. We drifted to our own corners of the ever-expanding universe, him out of chance, me out of careful planning. Though it has been years since I last spoke a single word to him, whenever I see him around campus, I calculate my escape options. I prepare dozens of comebacks. Just in case.
I used to wonder if he regretted his actions.
One day, when my sharp senses had dulled with idleness, two boys sat down at the library table next to me. I looked up, flicking the pages of my textbook with quick, jerky motions. Some antsy kid with a baggy blue sweater. And Elliot.
Whenever an unforeseeable situation puts us closer than ten feet, eye contact between the two of us becomes non-existent. This afternoon was no different. He sat down, right next to me, like I wasn't even there. This was my greatest fear and my greatest chance for retribution, packaged together in an airtight Pandora's Box. How many times had I dreamed of the moment to take back the beauty and importance I had lost? Now the only hesitation I had was which way to wield the verbal knife to inflict the most damage.
And then he started talking.
Not to me, of course, but to his friend. Slowly, he snipped his life story together, an oddly punctuated truth that sounded less like a triumph of character and more like a confession. He explained how he and his twin sister,
Sherry, never felt like they had adjusted to San Ramon. He felt like the pressure and academic rigor of high school was almost unbearable. To me, he sounded like a normal teenage boy- not the monster who could burn down dreams with single syllables tossed in the air. Spare change.
He didn't speak of me. I wasn't narcissistic or idealistic enough to expect it. I imagine that the guilt still hovers inside him occasionally. Not often, just once in awhile, when he catches a glimpse of my face or overhears my
name in a conversation. The five letters that stole some piece of me took something much larger away from him- his innocence. And that is something a person never forgets.
Can I say that his story has completely changed my perspective on his actions? He has hurt me, and even four years later the wounds still smart. But what is really going to heal these wounds faster- spending the energy on hatred and revenge? Or using it to singe out the lies I know were never true? I cannot forget the things he has done. But with determination and time, I have begun to understand. I have begun to forgive.
My story is not a confession. My story is a triumph of character.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Taylor Graupe, Independence High, Grade 10
The Power of Understanding and Forgiveness
It was in eighth grade that I first experienced bullying. I had lots of friends. I never had any enemies that I knew of before then and never thought I could become a target. That year, between the age of 12 to 13, my life as I knew it would change drastically.
I can’t recall the exact moment or day that the bullying began, only the harsh memories that will forever be embedded in my head. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what I had done to deserve the abuse that I took over the next year, from a girl who I once called my friend. With her I felt I had to try and act older. I started wearing more makeup and she would always want to do things that were very questionable and risky for girls our age. I eventually distanced myself from her, since I knew she had not been the best influence on me. So I
suppose, looking back, she may have felt abandoned by me. Rather then trying to speak with me to resolve any hurt feelings, she began to taunt me at school every single day. In the hallway, I would notice a nasty stare and hear a few mean, hurtful words like “eww” or “cake face”. If she or her friends who joined in could get close enough, they would even push at my face with their hands. I felt so demoralized and humiliated. The bullying wasn’t just at school either. I began to get mean text messages, Facebook posts, tweets and even experienced
them following me after school, threatening to physically harm me.
I didn’t know where to hide from this overwhelming attack. I felt paralyzed. It got so bad that one day I just wouldn’t get out of the car when my mom tried dropping me off at school. The only movement I could feel was the tears running down my cheeks and my heart beating so fast that I swear it could have jumped right out of my chest. I couldn’t face anyone. My self-esteem was so low and my anxiety, which I am still working on managing today because of this experience, was at an all time high. My mom and I talked to the principal to see what we could do to make things better, but even she did not know where to start without possibly making the situation worse.
Looking back on this, I needed to face this girl to better understand both of our feelings, instead of just wanting to run away. At first, yes, I wanted her to be punished, but what would that have done? Possibly only make her
angrier, and more resentful of me. Instead of just focusing on me, and how she was hurting me, I have grown to realize that she was probably hurting too.
She may not have been the best role model or friend for me, but maybe I could have been more of one for her. I was capable of making my own choices. I didn’t have to follow her lead. If I put myself in her position to better understand her fears and emotions, maybe we could have just sat down together and talked this out. If she did feel like I had abandoned our friendship without knowing why, I can see now that she may have been hurt too. It doesn’t make what she put me through okay, but if I just took a stand and tried to talk with her
before it got so bad, maybe I could have had a much better year.
We all learn from our mistakes, and two years later, even though we no longer live in the same city, one day I got a message. Reaching out from one of the channels that she used to harass me from, my one time friend, turned bully, took the time to tell me how sorry she was for putting me through the torture she did a couple of years prior. I still don’t think she truly realized how she affected my life, however, we both had grown up so much since those days, and we talked as if nothing had happened.
Forgiveness and understanding WHY we do the things that we do is key to reconciliation. We should never let ourselves get held up in the past. We should only take the time to learn from it and move on looking forward to how we as individuals can shape our future.
Instead of using harsh punishments in schools when students inflict harm on one another, we should send both the victim and the attacker(s) to meet with a counselor who knows how to ask the right questions for reconciliation. It is likely that both sides just need to better understand each other. This process can be very tough on the victim, who may be extremely nervous and intimidated to face the person who caused them harm. However, it is important for them to understand that this person maybe hurting just as much as they are and that together they could actually help each other become better people.
Instead of continuing to be the victim because of the experience in my life, I have found that I am now drawn to become an advocate, supporter or protector of other people. Career choices that I am attracted to at this stage in my life are in law enforcement, nursing, and cosmetology. I have even considered that I may want to become a therapist. The common link with all of these career paths is that each is protecting or helping people in some way either physically or mentally. I am still working on becoming stronger and more confident because of the anguish I endured. By looking back and forgiving my bully, I am able to continue to move forward and heal along the way.
____________________________________________________________________________________________