<p>Hi my name is Amy and I'm too poor for school and I need a scholarship! I wrote this nifty little essay in which I try and detail exactly how I decided what I want to do with my life, and I need your help! I need the essay to be the absolutely BEST it can be, down to every last detail. So help me out here and read it. I don't know if we're allowed to post essays but I'm going to give it a shot. Feel free to be very honest with your criticism. Just be nice about it (like, don't flat-out tell me that it sucks) or else I'm going to get discouraged. Tanks! </p>
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<pre><code>Sitting outside, crouched in the grass in a village in Ghana, I looked nervously at the two girls in front of me. They were smiling, delighted at the extra attention I was giving them. Pulling out a piece of paper, I wrote a short sentence: I like rice, or something of the sort. They were nine, and both should have been able to read it by this point in their schooling. I pointed to it, then looked at the first girl.
“Can you read this?” Her lips locked. She giggled slightly. I kept looking at her, then repeated the question. “Can you read this?’
She nodded. I asked her to read it to me and she remained silent.
“If you cannot read it just say no. I will not get mad at you. I will not beat you. I promise I will not be angry. Can you read this?”
“No,” she finally whispered. Both girls smiled, apparently completely unaware that something was wrong here. I turned to the second girl and pleaded with her to read it, please, or tell me if she could not. Her head turned. She seemed completely unable to even look me in the eye for more than a few seconds.
“Theresa!” The other girl shouted, then yelled something in Twi. Eventually, Theresa whispered that she could not read the sentence either. They both laughed and jumped up and down excitedly, but I simply stared at them, wondering how this school could let two nine-year-old girls advance in their schooling when it was obvious they were completely illiterate. Theresa was an orphan, a skinny, playful girl who was as quiet and skittish as a mouse. I wondered what would become of her.
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<pre><code>I worked three jobs over several months to raise the money to go to Africa. I had never been overseas before and had no idea what I was doing, but it was my dream. I wanted to travel, and I specifically had always wanted to go to Africa. On April 10th that dream finally came true. I boarded the plane terrified and incredibly excited. For years I had been telling people I wanted to be a teacher, either with regular children or special needs children, but I wasn’t sure. I was fascinated by autism and sometimes wanted to work exclusively with autistic children, but I had just turned 19. I was still restless and unsure. Going to Ghana, I had hoped, would clear up exactly what I wanted to do with myself and my life. It would put my mind at ease.
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<pre><code>The next day, after discovering the two illiterate girls, I went up to their teacher and said I wanted to tutor them. He nodded enthusiastically. Delighted, I brought the two girls aside and tried to teach them vowels. A E I O U, I wrote on a piece of paper. “These are vowels,” I said. “They are magic letters. Every word must have a vowel in it.”
I turned to the first girl and asked her to read them to me. She did. The second girl, Theresa, did the same with a bit of encouragement. I told them to go home and write their vowels again and again. Then I wrote a few consonants, and attempted to teach them the difference between consonants and vowels. I only had a few weeks left. I had decided to extend to two months, feeling at that point that six weeks was too short. A couple more weeks, I realized, was not enough time to teach these two girls to read. I felt inadequate, but I wanted to try. After our lesson the principal of the school looked at me, delighted. “Good!” He cried. “Good. They must know this. It is very good.”
I felt satisfied walking home that day.
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<pre><code>The school I worked with was called World of Friends, and it was partnered with a local orphanage that 34 children called home. Many of the faculty at school, I learned, had grown up in the orphanage and were now helping to take care of the children there. It was a poor, dirty place but the children seemed content. One morning at school, a friend of mine and I went with our friend who had grown up at World of Friends to have a meeting with the orphan mother. She seemed distressed, and he later explained they were low on funds.
The orphans can live in the home until they are 18, and if they are serious about their studies they can stay longer. Our friend explained that his brother, also an orphan, had finished school at the top of his class and was now applying to college. He wanted to go to school in Europe and was certainly intelligent enough to do so, but he could not even afford the entrance fees. He had gone to the father of the orphanage who told him he could not afford to send him to school.
His story is one that is all too common in Ghana and all across Africa. Many people do not go to good primary schools, and those who do cannot afford higher education. Every person has potential. Working with special needs kids, even, I see it on the face of every child that I meet. When I was in Ghana, I saw it everywhere. I also saw how often that potential never had a chance to flourish. A country cannot develop unless its people are developed. Ghana is filled to the brim with people who have the ability to do amazing things, but opportunities are too limited. Thus, with no alternative, many are forced to continue living in poverty.
While progress has been made to give everyone a good education, progress is slow, and in many places their efforts are not felt at all. A lack of good education is not limited to Africa. In America, even, children fall behind and end up dropping out of school completely. If everyone got a good education, the whole world would change. I want to be a part of that change. I do not just want to teach. I still want to work with autistic kids and schools in America, but I also want to help develop schools in Africa in the places that need it most.
Africa is a beautiful continent. I arrived culture shocked and overwhelmed, like a child struggling to take her first steps. I left an adult, or so it felt. Ghana is dirty and chaotic and poor; the sewers are open, and running water is a rarity. At first I could not see past that. After a few weeks it all slipped to the background, and I saw the people instead. They are overly-friendly, outgoing, always smiling, and they deserve a chance to succeed. Getting a good education to everyone in Africa would develop so much talent that had previously gone unnoticed, giving everyone a chance to succeed. That could change everything, and I want to be a part of that.
I want to do it for Theresa.
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