I was a very small child. Friends in my grade school classes would often laugh about it, the fact I was short enough to be their kid brother, and they’d call me names like “little guy” or “small fry”. When I was about five or six years old, the pediatrician told my mom I had “failure to thrive syndrome,” meaning I was showing extremely low development as compared to other children, that I wasn’t projected to grow tall. Failure to thrive is caused by a number of factors, such as malnutrition and emotional deprivation, among other things which I had never experienced. Yet, the word “failure” struck a chord, and as I got older and grew past what they expected, this diagnosis constantly remained on my mind.

It’s not uncommon that I meet someone who exudes the same judgment that the doctor did. I’ve felt the hot breath of what I can and can not do down my neck plenty of times. As a student, an athlete, a musician; I’ve been told to stop before I can even get started. I’ve found, though, that sometimes the breath is my own. After experiencing academic struggles throughout middle school, I started my high school career off with minimal confidence, especially in my ability to get into college. I applied to my school’s career program to become certified in diesel technology, and figured I’d do the bare minimum to graduate, then go straight to work. Just as the doctor had told me I would not grow, I convinced myself I could not do anything valuable. There was one person who chose to challenge the construct I’d created— my freshman year English teacher, Mr. James Donnelly, who sauntered up to a lackluster, stagnant version of myself and placed a copy of J.D Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye on my desk. It stayed in my backpack until the end of my sophomore year, when I had my foot runover in the diesel shop, leaving me laid up for a week. Bound to the couch, I opened the book, and went from front cover to back in less than three days. The message was clear to me: I needed to stray from Caulfield’s self-destructive outlook and take charge of my education.

With the message at the front of my mind, I dove into more rigorous courses. I immediately took to the guidance office and added AP English Lang to my junior year schedule, something I never thought I would do. I met deadlines, studied, aced tests, and began proving to myself that I am worthy, ultimately passing the AP exam. I finally gained an understanding of what I am capable of and what I can do when I set my mind to a goal. With this new found confidence, I am committed to my dreams, and I’ll never give up on making them come true. Even in my hobbies, such as my musical career, I put meticulous detail into perfecting the final product, ensuring I spend careful time on it. The changes I’ve made in my life haven’t just been inward, but have also reflected in my interactions with anyone I meet. No longer do I get offended when faced with criticism, or even ridicule. Instead I use it to measure what I’m doing right. I trudge forward through any layer of doubt or difficulty; I defy the odds that are stacked so heavily against me. Even now, after how far I’ve come, I know that I have challenges left to overcome: generations of financial hardship, finishing my senior year, and combating any standards and expectations that remain about me. My mission is set, and I am so grateful and honored to have been taught the lessons I needed to learn to get myself on track. So far, I’ve grown past every expectation. Not only will I succeed, I will thrive.

Here’s what Nehemiah had to say about his essay!

To accomplish everything I’ve had in recent years I’ve had to hit the ground running. Fail, then achieve, fail, then achieve. That’s been the consensus all four years, but I’ve made it, I’ve staked my claim, and I’m going to break new ground in the fall. I’m planning on studying English this fall with a minor in Music, and to obtain my masters in Secondary Education w/ Initial Licensure at UMass Lowell. My goal is to teach kids like me the way they need to be taught; to tap into their potential and allow the strong parts of them to shine through.