Rebecca May

Mrs. Morris

AP Literature-Block G

October 9th, 2019

Essay Prompt 5

“hi mrs.rebecca . . . i just wanted to say that you and mrs. belle are the best teachers/

councelors that i ever had and you feel like sister's to me.” [SIC] –Alexa, 4th grade

As I read these words in an email weeks after volunteering, I smiled, and a warmth came

over me. In the summer of 2017, I lived and worked as a student leader at an all-girls elementary

and middle school in lower east Manhattan. It had been a week of utter exhaustion, but I can still

remember feeling the hot summer air on my face and hearing the laughter throughout the

classrooms. Looking back at my time counseling these incoming fourth graders, I realize that

there are so many opportunities to help other young women that can shape me and those who

need it most.

This Manhattan school services low income girls from fourth through eighth grade,

supports them beyond their eighth-grade graduation, and is part of the network of schools to

which my own school belongs. To put it plainly, we are a sisterhood no matter the distance. This

new idea of sisterhood has resonated with me since that hot, vibrant summer in New York. We

don’t have to know each other personally to care about one another’s futures; after all, we are all

sisters.

Jitters, butterflies, and knots in my stomach. Weeks prior to taking a plane from LAX to

New York City, my mom and I were brainstorming ideas for lesson plans on reading,
mathematics, and art to share with another camp leader from my school. Two high schoolers

from each of the schools in our network travel together for the camp, and each pair receives

around five students that become their core group. Fear of failing to work well during the times

of these close interactions is what invited in the jitters, butterflies, and knots that now seemed to

thrive in my stomach. I was unsure that I would be the right person to connect with these girls,

and the residents inside of me were quick to remind me of the coming weeks ahead.

I pass out a multiplication coloring worksheet with two smiling one-eyed monsters that I

found a few nights before. After around ten minutes, one of the biggest personalities in my group

of five begins to cry. I could see myself in these girls. I could see my child self struggling with

school, but instead there was a parent, teacher, or friend there waiting to catch me before I

scraped my knee. I outstretch my arms, give her a hug, and explain that with time, she can

overcome any obstacle. When I listen to their stories, decipher their new riddles, and share a

laugh with the girls, I remember how ridiculous it was to be afraid. I am continuing to discover

when and where I can be the hand that pulls someone up and offers a shoulder to cry on.

Progress is not something that grows on trees, but is born from risk and seeing hope for

the future. I do not want to grow up to be the person who is educated about world issues just to

nod, say that it is “too bad,” and notice how “delicious” a taco looks. I have learned that being

fearful is often being closed minded. I may not be the next social, political, or environmental

activist of the world, but I value equal opportunity and will continue to support women in my

own community. Every Sunday, I babysit an infant at a pregnancy shelter for around three and a

half hours while her mother works. As I reread that email from my student, Alexa, and now, a
thank you note from the infant’s mother, I am always reminded that sisterhood is not limited to

my school’s network, but is global.