Barely Breathing, But Still Alive
Slumped over a heaping stack of reading material, my hand furiously jotting notes and simultaneously trying to remember what I’ve yet to complete and what test I need to prepare for, I come to the idea that maybe I shouldn’t be here. Maybe Tufts is too hard or maybe I am not working hard enough so I should just give up. But I stop these ideas from derailing me from my purpose: one that exceeds simply getting good grades and graduating college.
My purpose, my reason for being here at Tufts University, runs generations deep. Born in a small town in El Salvador with the rise of those whose blood continues to flow through my veins, the purpose is to ensure that past efforts of those who bear my family name are not in vain. Likewise, my strong desire to uphold the American Dream, which brought my mother here at the crisp age of twenty-eight, propels me forward. Her dreams, my grandmother’s dreams, and my great-grandmother’s dreams fortify me. When my mind wants to show me how easy it would be to stop being HERE, my heart reminds me of the sacrifice it took to get here; the long days that my grandmother walked the streets of El Salvador attempting to sell tortillas and tamales, the sweat that covered the forehead of my mother as she endlessly paced in a small fast food restaurant trying to fill orders as quickly as she could, and I see myself at the age of nine learning how to navigate the public transportation system of Northern Virginia so that I could get to the library and check out books for my assignment on the planets. I continue to think of my own efforts- the tears, sleep-deprivation, and joy I gained from the obstacles I overcame. When I recall the endless nights I spent at the kitchen table reading The Great Gatsby and maneuvering through Calculus problems, I remember what my goal was at the time: to go to college.
I cannot let all the efforts that my family has made and continue to make be for naught. I cannot let the little nine-year-old Katherine down. As Shia LaBeouf commented in his inspirational recording, I can’t allow my dreams to be dreams. So I stay right where I am, taking notes on how an argument can be logically valid but not logically sound and how the major part of the development of a child occurs within the first hundred days. And I begin to slump a little less and smile a little more knowing that yes, Tufts is hard but I can go even harder.