Personal Statement

Amelia Corner

I didn’t have a voice until I was four years old. Since then, I’ve fought to make it heard. I
remember a couple of those early years before the surgery when I tried to get my mom’s
attention and make her understand what I needed. I remember my vocal cords tingling with
vibrations and sound coming out but not forming words with my mouth. My mom looked at me
with a helpless expression trying to figure out what I needed, but after seemingly hours of
struggle, red in the face, and exhausted, I would fall to the floor and start crying tears of
frustration. My mom would take in my chubby red face, and the snotty tears running down my
chin, then grab a tissue and wash it all away. She would then take my hands in hers, tell me not
to worry, and ask if I could draw a picture or act it out. If I were hungry, I would draw her a
picture of a banana, which was my favorite food, or make the motions of patting my stomach and
chewing something. Even though it was born out of frustration, I found a passion for drawing,
and as I got older, writing stories. It allowed me to write about how I was feeling like a young
girl. I remember one I wrote of an alien girl who could not speak with her friends but could
express emotions through sharing Milky Way bars. Through all the crude charades, I found
myself enjoying acting out things and figuring out what people meant just through actions and
expressions.
At four, I had surgery to correct my mouth to express words instead of sounds. I
remember being frightened as I slowly approached those double doors at the end of the hall. My
mom gave me the courage to go into that room alone. After I woke up, I was able to speak a
complete sentence for the first time in my life. It may have been garbled and mispronounced, but
I could finally use my voice and participate in a conversation through sound. At times I still had
to resort to acting out or drawing some things, and I went through many years of speech therapy.
Even after having the ability to speak, I still had to fight to be heard. It was hard to
connect with kids when you talked funny, and therefore I always felt lonely. Teachers thought I
was slow when I couldn’t correctly convey an answer or read aloud to the class. People also
found me annoying because even if it wasn’t all clear, I talked a lot. However, every time I was
knocked down, my mom would lift me up and give me the courage to fight. Eventually, I slowed
down, my words became more precise and sharper, and now I’m at the top of my class and
participate in many speech-based clubs. Now I can use my voice to fight for what’s right and
give words of encouragement to those who need it.
A couple of years ago, a friend asked if I wished I could have been born without the
speech problems that dominated my developmental years. I thought for a moment and answered
no, because sure I struggled, but through working to find ways to communicate, I found my
passions, such as writing and art, that I might not have if I didn’t have those problems. Also,
because of the issues I dealt with at school, I don’t take my voice for granted and choose my
words carefully. My difficulties encouraged me to fight for my voice, whether through a speech
at a debate, an essay on LGBTQ issues, or expressing my feelings through art. I also fight for the
people who don’t have their voice yet, and my goal is to become a psychotherapist to help other
kids who also have problems and help them achieve new heights.