Senior Spotlight:

If you could summarize your senior year so far in one word what would it be?

Busywork. That’s two words, but busy and work. You have months to do college stuff, but you just have to sit down and do it and I just … don’t do that. I’m also in Gov and Lit which are like the definition of WORK WORK WORK. You could have five assignments all due tomorrow. Everyone warned me not to take Gov and Lit at the same time. So what did I do? I took Gov and Lit at the same time.

Who is your favorite video game character and why?

My favorite Super Smash Bros character is Isabelle because she’s deceiving and petite, but also so fun to play. She’s got a fishing rod like c’mon. But only the Isabelle in the all yellow cardigan and the pink cardigan with the blue ribbon on top. Only those two. Any others … less elite.

College Essay

I remember the floor of the Home Depot gardening department being cold and rugged. The entire department gathered to investigate as I lay there sobbing, blood rushing from my face. I had been pushing the orange shopping cart like a scooter when I made a swift turn and crashed into my uncle's unsuspecting heels. The cart stopped as though it hit a brick wall. My face slammed into the handle like a bat crushing a baseball. I fell to the floor, my head spinning and throbbing. My Uncle’s horrified face matched the employees’. Six of my top row teeth had shattered, and my upper right front tooth had been knocked out at the base.

After several orthodontist trips, multiple surgeries, braces, tooth reconstruction and an extraction of seventeen tooth fragments from my gums, my smile was nearly perfect-except for my missing upper right front tooth. I returned to sixth grade horrified. I was anxious and afraid of what people would think, I didn't know how my friends would react to my tooth. My parents assured me that my friends would still be my friends and that I had nothing to worry about. I hoped that would be the truth, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be so simple.

“The moon has eight phases...” I said and an audible gasp rang throughout our classroom. Everyone’s face lit up. They were shocked. One girl, unable to keep silent, interrupted me while I was talking to ask the question: “What happened to your tooth?” At lunch they asked, “Can you fit a straw between your teeth? How about an M&M?” I was the subject of inquisition for the next month. People cared, but the questioning was overwhelming. So along with having to explain my story 100 times a day, I came to dread how awkward and uncomfortable it felt to be at school.

I withdrew. If my classmates had all those questions, what would the rest of the school say, the world? I stopped speaking in class, I’d eat by myself, I wouldn’t hang out with friends after school. I just didn’t like people seeing my missing tooth. School was unenjoyable for a long while until gradually, people stopped caring. Some would still ask questions, but I began to understand that people weren’t judging me. My friends were still my friends. They hadn’t changed, but I had.

After the accident, I felt like the missing tooth was my only character trait because it was the only thing that people wanted to talk about. All I wanted was for everything to go back to normal. It would be up to me to make that happen. I discovered that when you say things over and over again you strip away the power it holds over you. And in my case, I told my story so many times, to so many people, that I stopped feeling the need to hide it. I could tell them comfortably “this is what happened.” I learned that through speaking and talking to people I could grow more confident and that confidence made my situation easier to navigate. When I just focused on being scared it was a tougher process. As I became more confident in my situation, I became a different kind of student. Over the next two years I told my story so much that I became a regular speaker. I spoke in class, outside of class, to teachers, to peers, to friends and family; I had become a genuine talker, and the kid that had to be told “be quiet” in class. My missing tooth made me comfortable with who I was. It became an identity I was proud to embrace. Who would have thought that losing something could give me so much in return?