School

An Honest Account Of My University Experience

In September 2015, I embarked on my university journey.

In high school, people told me my grades would drop. And naïve Herminia believed them. So I prepared myself to not do nearly as well. Somehow I did.

During first year, I didn’t think too much about my GPA. I thought about doing the work and being early to everything.

Come the fall of 2016, I learned that I won two academic scholarships.

Instead of thinking I was stupid, I felt somewhat smart.

In second year, I spent less time studying and more time living. My grades were a little all over the place as a result. I remember countless conversations with my best friend about how terrible I was doing. I joked about dropping out.

So I vowed to do better in third year. My fall semester went smoothly. I had great classes, good professors. I liked my grades. I lived a lot. If I could relive those four months again, I would.

2018 arrived. Second semester in the winter started off just fine. No problem. Smooth sailing. Until February when I got hit by a car while walking home from school.

It took more than a month to recover physically. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover mentally. I’m doing well these days.

I never wanted to make excuses. I didn’t ask for an extension on any assignments.

My grades dropped. But I took care of myself. Being forced to listen to my body made me a better human being.

Regardless of my GPA when all is said and done, I’m proud. I learned to listen to that tiny voice in my head, to the body I used to neglect. That matters more than any number on a piece of paper.

4 thoughts on “An Honest Account Of My University Experience

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