Essay #22

I was in survival mode when I came to the U.S. from Turkey in fifth grade, and for the next few years of middle school, I struggled to comprehend the books, articles, and stories I was reading in my classes. My vocabulary was extremely weak, and my understanding of the material was superficial at best. I turned in the bare minimum required on written assignments just to stay afloat academically, and my grades suffered. As my English improved, my mastery of the classwork grew. However, even though I grasped the content, it wasn’t particularly engaging. That all changed thanks to my 9th-grade English teacher, Mr. James.

Previously, English wasn’t a subject that interested me. Each year, the English department selected the texts we read, and the rigid form of teaching didn’t encourage me to think very deeply about the content. Mr. James picked his own books, which were different from the texts other teachers assigned. Flowers for Algernon had a particularly profound impact on me. About halfway through, I found myself connecting with the characters in a way I hadn’t experienced while reading other books. One day during another class, I thought about the fate of the main character as he began to lose his intelligence, and I wrote down my theories about what might happen next.

I was so preoccupied with my analysis of the book that I risked being late to my next class. I ran back to Mr. James and quickly explained my theories about the plot during the five-minute break between classes. Then the bell rang! I was tardy for Spanish, but he let me finish my thought even though his students were already waiting for him to begin teaching. Eventually, he suggested that we finish our conversation the following day during class or lunch, but the fact that he took time away from his next period to let me express my thoughts conveyed that he really valued my opinions about the book. His compassion made me feel like my ideas had value. My gratitude toward him inspired me to dig below the surface of English literature to think deeply about the texts I was reading and closely examine characters and their intentions.

Because of his influence, I was eager to tackle complicated themes in books and explore reading outside of class. I read Born a Crime by Trevor Noah, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and Tuareg by Alberto Vázquez-Figueroa, and I began writing down my assessments of characters and interpretations of themes. Journaling provided me with a way to dissect complex plots as I figured out ways to analyze the authors’ characterizations. 

Even though I hope to major in engineering, Mr. James gave me an appreciation for literature that helps me think more critically in all my humanities classes. It’s rare to find one teacher who gives you the tools to unlock curiosity, motivation, and a far more analytical approach to academic work. For example, when we read articles from both political sides during our media-bias assignment in AP Lang, I connected our classroom work to the presidential election and gained a more nuanced understanding of how media bias affected voters’ opinions, which ultimately swayed election results. 

Although reading was a challenging endeavor for me as an immigrant, finding a teacher who saw value in my voice led to intellectual curiosity on a deep level. Since then, I’ve continued to explore literature as a way to better understand people, cultures, and ideas. I no longer see reading as an academic requirement or a chore but as a tool to question, connect, and grow. That major shift shaped my academic interests and helped me become a more curious, perceptive, and mindful person—one who is eager to keep learning from every thoughtful conversation, classroom discussion, and intriguing book I encounter.