“Catalyst, osmosis, and parsimony.” Those three words registered in my mind as big, scientific words that were tough to spell, let alone understand. To me they were simply black letters on a white page filled with diagrams of ATP synthase, cytokinesis, and cyclic photophosphorylation. No matter how much time I put into reading my textbook, listening to lectures, watching videos, it just wasn’t making sense. AP Biology seemed like it was going to haunt me for the next 36, long weeks.
On my first day of school as a junior, the day’s first two classes seemed challenging, yet enjoyable: Spanish IV and Chemistry. Then, 3rd hour: AP Biology. Sitting down in my chair at 10:16 a.m. in the same classroom where just two years prior I had aced Biology, reminiscing about my freshman year I felt confident. I figured, how much harder could AP Biology really be?
Once the bell rang, the chairs around me began to fill with some of the most elite students in my grade, hard workers with big brains, a deadly combination. The first day we were asked to read and outline Chapter One, it was 54 pages of material. In one night, we needed to study 54 pages of genomes, atomic structure, and molecular mass. Oh, and the next day we were to have a quiz. This was definitely not freshman-level Biology.
Class periods turned into days, days evolved into weeks, and weeks into months. My tests scores seemed to be anything but stellar, and with the exam right around the corner, I was having nightmares of being attacked by Killer T cells. I’d stare at questions, yet again black letters on a white page, while the light bulb in my brain seemed to have malfunctioned. My parents were worried, my teacher was confused, and I was falling behind in a subject that I had done so well in before. I took the exam, cringing at the question about Killer T cells. When my exam grade came back, it was obvious that something needed to change.
Two weeks later I set up a meeting with my teacher, to discuss my minimal progress and identify the steps I needed to speed up that “progress.” I’d felt like a burden in the classroom trying to hide so the teacher wouldn’t call on me, so no one would notice how much I was struggling. My Dad came along to calm my nerves. My teacher sat down next to me and smiled. Surprisingly, the meeting consisted of encouragement and her telling me to ask for help. I wasn’t in this alone and, in fact, there were other struggling students. She said I just needed to take the time to help myself and face my fears instead of hiding from them.
In the following trimesters, I habituated initiation on my own education. I studied smarter, adopted a few changes, and worked diligently. My hard work eventually paid off with an A during the third trimester, the most rewarding A I’ve ever earned. I’ve added to my beliefs, that it isn’t important that you get knocked down, what matters is that you get back up. And when you get back up, no matter what it is you are facing, let it be a Killer T Cell or not, you have to keep going. In the end your endurance will pay off and maybe, just maybe you will enjoy the ride, while learning a few things along the way.
I’ve become a catalyst, increasing the rate of reaction around me, spreading the message on the power of failure. Guiding those around me through a process called osmosis, where only the hard working shall survive. I learned that if you stick to your passions, parsimony holds true, and the least number of changes to one’s character is bound to create self-success. Catalyst, osmosis, parsimony… three down, 1,459 to go.
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