How we learn

The following essay was written by guest contributor, Sophia C. This is her college application essay, which she graciously agreed to share here.

It was the morning of my annual ballet exam. I had been doing the exams for fourteen years. Sitting quietly, trying not to listen to the muted music coming from the exam room next door, my stomach felt as if millions of tiny butterflies wanted to take flight. This year’s exam was different. I felt more pressure than ever before because it was a repeat test from the previous year. That had been a difficult time, one in which I had struggled with ongoing health problems requiring multiple hospitalizations and challenging medical treatments. Unfortunately, I had failed last year’s exam – by one point. Although I was told that coming so close to passing during such a difficult year was a success in itself, it did not feel that way. I had considered quitting the dance program.

Which I almost did. Some friends stopped dancing when they did not pass. Continuing in the program meant that I would no longer be dancing with them and would have to repeat the curriculum with younger girls. I would also have to retake the same exam the following year. This year. 

Deciding to continue, and to ready myself to retake the exam twelve months later, wasn’t easy. There was the social consequence, the embarrassment. And there was the personal consequence, the feeling of failure. However, the decision before me was pretty clear: I either redid the curriculum, the year, and the exam – or I just gave up. Giving up was frankly not a serious option. I was too determined to not let my illness get the best of me and take over the things I cared about. I simply needed to get over my pride. I also needed to stay behind while the rest of my class moved on. And I needed to work hard throughout the year, perfecting the dances to the best of my ability, working through my illnesses in the process, and slowly improving.

Now here I was, one year later, about to take the same exam that I had already failed. It seemed like there was more pressure this time; if I failed again it would be a win for the chronic illness monsters. My experience with chronic medical conditions had taught me that those demons can be destructive, if I let them. I was determined not to do that. Still, when my time for testing came, I entered the exam space with a heart ready to leap from my chest, legs that felt like jelly, and a wobbling confidence.

Then something wonderful happened: I remembered that I loved dancing. As the exam progressed, I was filled with a sense of peace. Releasing to the well-rehearsed movements, memories of past failures and pain were washed away by an awareness of achievement, of perseverance through challenge. My failure the prior year had taught me the importance of living my values. I will not give up on myself, even when circumstances seem impossible. 

That’s when I learned the most important lesson of all. It didn’t matter if I passed or failed. All that mattered was that I continued, that I finished what I had begun. That is a lesson that I can carry with me for the rest of my life. Failures will happen. It’s what I do in the face of failure that really matters.