Essay #1
My instructor told me never to title an essay "Essay #__," but, no one is grading me here, right?
Everybody faces rejection at some point in life, usually multiple times. Whether it’s trying out for the high school basketball team, or auditioning for the school musical, we all must learn to face and handle rejection. For most, rejection results in self-doubt and a bruised ego. For me, rejection helped me throw aside the dog-eared map I was trying to follow, and find my own path in life.
I always thought I handled rejection well, accepting it, expecting it, to some degree. My entire high school experience was a four-year exercise in rejection; after being rejected by countless dates, a few clubs, and nearly every athletic team I dreamed of joining, I began to think rejection was my middle name. But when it came time to apply to nursing school, I thought I had it in the bag. I did not expect to be met with yet another rejection. I had worked hard in preparation, attending meetings, asking for advice on the application. I spent a year in college taking the prerequisite courses and receiving straight A’s. I found a job at the local hospital working as a technician under the guidance of the director of nursing who then wrote a glowing letter of recommendation, letting the school of nursing know that I was a great asset to their nursing team. It was with great pride and anticipation that I sent off my application to nursing school. My head filled with grandiose ideas of how I would excel at nursing; how I would rise to the task every time my skills were called upon. My family, coworkers and friends all patted me on the back, proud of my noble ambitions, applauding my aptitude and drive. And then came the day of reckoning: the day I opened the mailbox and found an envelope from the school of nursing. It was not the thick manila envelope I was expecting, just your standard #10 with the college of nursing logo in the upper left-hand corner. When I opened it, my heart dropped. Little did I know just how that letter, that one rejection would refocus and redirect my life.
In the beginning, just after the initial rejection, I cried, I ranted, I may have even used a few swear words, quickly shredding the letter and tossing the scraps out with the trash. I dreaded telling my parents, my boss and all the nurses I worked with that I had been rejected. I knew they would tell me not to give up, to try again. Surely there had been a mistake; I was, after all, the ideal nursing student. Then I recommitted, calling the director of the program to ask for another application. I even found another nursing school to apply to and eagerly began the application process there too. I studied hard and worked harder. I didn’t want to be defeated on the first try. Nursing school was my goal, and in my mind, nothing would stop me from reaching it.
As the time to resubmit the application drew near, a nagging voice began calling to me, taunting me and telling me I’d been rejected for a reason. I began to doubt myself. I questioned my abilities, my test scores, even the loyalty of the nurses I worked with. And in the end, rejection won. I put away those applications unfinished, burying them in an old footlocker, fearing I would only be rejected again. After all, I hadn’t been good enough the first time, what would be different the second time? Maybe nursing school wasn’t for me. I struggled with feelings of incompetence and even jealousy as I watched others graduate, and move forward with a career. That had been my goal. That was what I was supposed to have done; the path I had tried to follow and failed.
It took years for me to get over the rejection from nursing school. I moved on though, getting married and starting a family. Then, late one night when I couldn’t sleep, I had an idea. The next day I began working on an all-together different dream. I began to write. Within four months I’d completed my first manuscript. My husband, who was proud of my efforts, helped me proofread it and send it off to be bound. I found a new passion, a new goal. Now as I find myself entering school once again, with a new and totally different major, I reflect often on that rejection. I even opened the old footlocker, digging out the incomplete nursing school applications I’d hidden there, smiling to myself with some level of acceptance. Rejection has shaped me, shifting my focus just enough to allow me to explore the possibilities. I try not to spend too much time thinking about what could have been. Instead I’m moving forward in a new direction, with new goals, a new purpose. Who knows where rejection will take me in the future. For now, I’m glad it has brought me this far.
Our first assignment for the term is to write an essay about rejection in our own lives and how it affected us. Well, let me tell you, I have plenty of experiences to draw from. Yes, rejection is a subject I am very familiar with.
Here's a sneak peek (the rough draft) of my first essay:
I always thought I handled rejection well, accepting it, expecting it, to some degree. My entire high school experience was a four-year exercise in rejection; after being rejected by countless dates, a few clubs, and nearly every athletic team I dreamed of joining, I began to think rejection was my middle name. But when it came time to apply to nursing school, I thought I had it in the bag. I did not expect to be met with yet another rejection. I had worked hard in preparation, attending meetings, asking for advice on the application. I spent a year in college taking the prerequisite courses and receiving straight A’s. I found a job at the local hospital working as a technician under the guidance of the director of nursing who then wrote a glowing letter of recommendation, letting the school of nursing know that I was a great asset to their nursing team. It was with great pride and anticipation that I sent off my application to nursing school. My head filled with grandiose ideas of how I would excel at nursing; how I would rise to the task every time my skills were called upon. My family, coworkers and friends all patted me on the back, proud of my noble ambitions, applauding my aptitude and drive. And then came the day of reckoning: the day I opened the mailbox and found an envelope from the school of nursing. It was not the thick manila envelope I was expecting, just your standard #10 with the college of nursing logo in the upper left-hand corner. When I opened it, my heart dropped. Little did I know just how that letter, that one rejection would refocus and redirect my life.
In the beginning, just after the initial rejection, I cried, I ranted, I may have even used a few swear words, quickly shredding the letter and tossing the scraps out with the trash. I dreaded telling my parents, my boss and all the nurses I worked with that I had been rejected. I knew they would tell me not to give up, to try again. Surely there had been a mistake; I was, after all, the ideal nursing student. Then I recommitted, calling the director of the program to ask for another application. I even found another nursing school to apply to and eagerly began the application process there too. I studied hard and worked harder. I didn’t want to be defeated on the first try. Nursing school was my goal, and in my mind, nothing would stop me from reaching it.
As the time to resubmit the application drew near, a nagging voice began calling to me, taunting me and telling me I’d been rejected for a reason. I began to doubt myself. I questioned my abilities, my test scores, even the loyalty of the nurses I worked with. And in the end, rejection won. I put away those applications unfinished, burying them in an old footlocker, fearing I would only be rejected again. After all, I hadn’t been good enough the first time, what would be different the second time? Maybe nursing school wasn’t for me. I struggled with feelings of incompetence and even jealousy as I watched others graduate, and move forward with a career. That had been my goal. That was what I was supposed to have done; the path I had tried to follow and failed.
It took years for me to get over the rejection from nursing school. I moved on though, getting married and starting a family. Then, late one night when I couldn’t sleep, I had an idea. The next day I began working on an all-together different dream. I began to write. Within four months I’d completed my first manuscript. My husband, who was proud of my efforts, helped me proofread it and send it off to be bound. I found a new passion, a new goal. Now as I find myself entering school once again, with a new and totally different major, I reflect often on that rejection. I even opened the old footlocker, digging out the incomplete nursing school applications I’d hidden there, smiling to myself with some level of acceptance. Rejection has shaped me, shifting my focus just enough to allow me to explore the possibilities. I try not to spend too much time thinking about what could have been. Instead I’m moving forward in a new direction, with new goals, a new purpose. Who knows where rejection will take me in the future. For now, I’m glad it has brought me this far.
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Comments
This is an interesting paper and definitely gives the reader a little peek into your life. Thanks for sharing it with us.
=)
Wanted to let you know I changed my blog address today. It's now agoddessinprogress.blogspot.com