When I was in 5th grade, I wanted to be the next Beyonce. I had a set plan too.

After I graduated high school, I would move to California and get a record deal. As a

10-year-old filled with innocence, it seemed like that was the perfect plan. As I grew up,

I realized that the dream was not practical.

I remember in 5th grade I had gone to visit my cousin's house in Greenville for

the weekend, and my cousin and I were hanging out with one of her highschool friends.

As we were walking downstairs to get snacks, I heard a thud. I turned around and my

cousin's friend collapsed while she was walking. I just stared; I tried to move but I could

not bring myself to. My cousin shouted for her mom and she started running up the

stairs. Once she arrived upstairs, I still found myself unable to move. She began to

check her pulse and my cousin called 911. My dad heard the commotion, and ended up

pushing me into a room that I was locked in until the situation was resolved. I was still

very confused and had a very difficult time processing what just occurred. I remember

feeling guilty; feeling as though I just stood there and didn’t help. I could have called

911, I could have ran to get her mom, I could have gotten out of the way; I could have

done anything other than just stand there. After the EMTs showed up, my aunt and

cousin went with the friend to the hospital. I was let out of the room and my dad assured

me she would be fine. When my aunt and cousin returned, they attributed the collapse

to dehydration. My aunt informed me that they had to stick some needles in her to give

her the fluids she needed. I recall asking if they brought her back to life, and my aunt

replying that they used magical fluids to restore her life (I now know that it was an IV

and not any mysterious magic magical fluid). I genuinely thought that was the coolest

thing in the world. I then chose a more practical occupation to be when I grew up, a
doctor. Even though I first got into medicine because of the magical fluid, I believe that it

was a sign for me to get into science.

My first step to becoming a doctor was to learn more about science. I had

always been interested in science; it was my favorite subject along with math. I wanted

to gain literacy in science and the conjunctive terminology that accompanies the field. I

learned about a science camp through one of my teachers at school. I told my mom and

she agreed to sign me up. At Imhotep Academy, I learned how to conduct experiments

and labs through trial and error with the supervision of the teachers. I also learned the

process of summarizing the results of the experiments and presenting them to the

parents at the end of the program. In high school, I began taking more rigorous

sciences and math classes because I knew I wanted to major in a STEM-related

subject. I took honors and AP classes to help prepare me for my future college. Also to

prepare for college, I started working to see what was complimentary to me. I ended up

choosing child care.

When I first began my work in childcare, I was doing it because I liked kids

and was used to caring for them. My childcare days began in the sixth grade because

my parents started leaving me at home to take care of my siblings. Because of this,

going from my three siblings at home to 10 kids at camp was an easy transition. The

kids were always filled with energy, happiness, and excitement. Being able to

communicate with the kids made my job tremendously easier. If a camper was having a

bad day, we would talk about the situation, and then they would walk away with a smile

because they released what they were holding in emotionally. Once, a little boy came

into camp for his first day. His mother was carrying him as they walked in, and he was
clinging onto her for dear life. If he squeezed any harder she would have popped. I went

over to them and I offered to carry him and he buried his face in his mom's neck. I went

to get some toys for him to play with, and I swear he knew what I was trying to do. I

brought the toys over, and he stuck his tongue out at me then rolled his eyes. His mom

had to get to work, and she got him to get off of her. As soon as she put him on the

ground, she left, and he started crying louder. Then I started to fake cry and we were

“crying” together. When he heard me crying, he stopped and just watched me and then

he started to laugh. I guess my pain made him happy. Once he stopped, I asked him

why he was crying and he told me that he was scared that his mom was going to forget

him at camp. I assured him that she would not and that I would call her to remind her

just so that he would feel better. Of course, I did not call her, but I think he just felt

comfort knowing that if she did forget, I would remind her. The kids in my group felt like

they could tell me anything, and most of the time they did! They felt comfortable

confiding in me, and I loved that they felt safe telling me their secrets. This was when I

first started thinking about going into pediatrics.

The journey towards becoming a doctor is a long and treacherous one, but I have

confidence in myself to finish my target and reach my goals. College is only the

beginning of my future. I will do my best and try my hardest in college, and then I will do

whatever it takes to be a good doctor. I know becoming a doctor is not a cakewalk; it will

require a huge amount of effort, dedication, and hard work. But I will never lose my

heart and passion. I know that one day I will become a doctor.