Choose to Take the Journey

Dear Fellow Nerds,

I have a confession to make. In high school, I was not a very good student. On top of that, I was never a part of chess club…

Wait!

Before you vote me out of the laboratory, allow me to explain.

I don’t want to go into too much detail, but I will tell you that high school was one of the rockiest, most turbulent times of my life. While my family life lingered in dire straits, my school life had all but drowned. At some point, I was even the top story on several morning news channels, but not because of anything I had done, but rather what I had gone through.

A couple of years passed before I finally woke up, only to see my dream of a better future drifting away. It was either sink or swim, so I chose to swim. Bit by bit, I propelled myself forward through school activities, volunteer work, and good old-fashioned nose-in-the-book studying. Unfortunately, by the time I got my act together, it was too late. I would be rejected by every university I applied to, including my dream school: UCLA.

I was crestfallen. My energy and my efforts had proven fruitless. But with the encouragement of my older brother, I set out to appeal my rejection.

The first person I thought of was my AP Spanish teacher. Not only was he one of my favorites, but also I had shown myself in his class to be quite inteligente. I explained my situation and the need for a strong recommendation, but he refused, offering a lukewarm letter at best.

¡Qué demonios!

Needless to say, he was no longer a favorite of mine. I proceeded to collect a handful of letters from other teachers as well as my counselor, and along with a new personal statement, I sent off my appeal. My fate was no longer in my hands.

Weeks passed.

One day, I came home to my mother standing there with the most sullen face.

“I received word from 2 of your schools,” she stated matter-of-factly.

I nodded silently.

Her voice became quiet and subdued. “Come here, I left the letters in my room.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed before she handed me a standard-sized envelope emblazoned with UC Berkeley’s logo. I opened it…

…

I was rejected a second time.

“This next one is from UCLA.”

My heart slammed against my chest.

She continued, “I’m sorry, I had to open it. You were rejected again…”

I cast my eyes down only to catch sight of a much bigger goldenrod envelope. Huh? Why would they need such a thick envelope for just a rejection letter? I scanned my mother’s face.

Blank. Expressionless. But I thought I saw her eyes smile at me.

With the faintest hint of hope bubbling up inside, I hastily grabbed the torn envelope. I reached inside and pulled out various pamphlets about UCLA’s history, its faculty, and student life on campus.

“What is this?!” My voice dared to grow louder for the first time in weeks.

“Here. I held onto this.” My mother handed a single page to me, folded in three. A smile spread across her face.

I read the letter…

They had reconsidered my rejection and had now decided to accept me!

“Yeeeeaaahhh!” I yelled out reflexively.

Now, I always thought it silly when movies would show grown adults jumping up and down for joy. I always wondered what kind of situation would be so emotional as to rally that kind of enthusiasm. But there I was, grabbing onto my mother’s arms, bouncing up and down on the bed like a trampoline.

What were my chances of getting in on appeal? Historically, less than 2%. There was an overwhelming chance I would not have gotten in, but if I hadn’t tried, I wouldn’t be a proud UCLA alumnus today. Even if your chances of success are small, always always always try. Because you never know about the future.

Oh, and if you’re still wondering about chess club, well, I always did prefer xiangqi.