A Pre-College Blunder
The summer before I started college, I signed up for a course that would teach me what college life was like. The class was to be held in a specific room where they'd serve donuts for breakfast, teach campus rules, and show us how to be efficient students.
As the elevator door closed behind me, I headed towards room D314 where the class would be held. But once arriving there, I was greeted by a sign that read, "Closed for repair." Puzzled, I asked the secretary where I should go. She pointed to a room a few doors down. As I proceeded through the hall, I looked in every room. I found a room with a large wooden table that encompassed the area of the room. Placing my notebook on the table, I waited for the others to arrive.
I watched the door like a hawk. A woman with curly hair peeked in the door. "Are you here for the Summer Triumph program?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess. This is where they told me to come," I replied.
She came in, and sat down. Many others soon followed. A middle-aged woman sat down next to me. I looked at her and smiled. "Hi," I said. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the middle of a diversity of people. Every chair was filled. I wrote a few notes down in my notebook as a rather muscular woman stared at me from across the table. Intimidated, I directed my attention toward the instructor.
"Okay. Let's all introduce ourselves. I know you all have a story, and it may be hard for you. Just tell us a little about yourself," she smiled. "We're going to work on raising your self-esteem."
The young blonde next to me spoke of her experiences as a recovering drug addict. The woman sitting across from me told us about her experiences, when she worked as a prison guard. She relayed a heart-tugging tale of an inmate who was murdered by another inmate. The others spoke of their experiences, each conveying a different conflict in their lives. I listened intently, feeling fortunate that I hadn't been through problems like these. Then, all eyes turned in my direction. "What's your story?" they asked. At this point, I knew that something wasn't right. I hadn't been through a crisis I needed help for. I didn't have an amazing story.
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