Personal Narrative: My Advanced Placement US History Class

“Never neglect an opportunity for improvement,” I would go back and tell myself so if time traveling was one day made possible.
As a junior in high school, grade was everything I obsessed with. Excellent grades fabricated myself an impeccable appearance, as well as a deeply rooted concept of being perfect. Similar to many Vietnamese immigrants, I was not judged by my individual character, but rather by stereotype. My classmates always praised me for my intelligence, for the A+ I had recently received on my Pre-Calculus quiz, or expressed their wish to have possessed a fragment of my cleverness. In fact, I did enjoy those praises. Immersing myself inside those compliments, I felt flawless and was willing to do anything to protect my dignity. Such a mindset had motivated me toward leaving the Advanced Placement U.S. History class when challenges arose, and it was the last time I allowed such a mediocre thinking to influence my intellectual exploration. One Tuesday afternoon toward the end of August, my rosewood-painted desk was piled with assignments. Those lines and squiggles on the papers, those markings looked complicated to decode; therefore, filling out my name was the only thing I knew.

Needless to say, I struggled with the workload. I earned fewer A’s. Instead of compliments, I recognized disappointment in others’ eyes. Things just became so discouraging; however, I was able to enjoy learning in its purest form. Every day I came to class to learn, to improve, not to make excellent grades. I approached learning with nothing but a diligent attitude and pure interest. There were nights I had to stay awake to prepare for exams, to write papers about difficult concepts, or to read chapters with unfamiliar terminology. The process was laborious, yet I knew I was improving. Such an experience I never had taking academic classes. Momentarily, succeeding in college was no longer