Sophia Mina '25 Recruiting Profile

I am a middle child. Typically, those words are dreadful to hear. I am the second born child along with a younger sibling and an older one. However, I was not an average middle child. I was not forgotten about as a kid. I was never overlooked by my family. I never felt the need to seek attention, and I never felt like I had to deal with anything on my own. This is probably because I was the only girl. You are probably expecting me to write about how awful it must have been growing up but, fortunately, that was not the case for me. Or so I thought.

My older brother took the best care of me, instinctively, because I was his only sister. My mom cherished having a little girl to dress up and hang out with, and, of course, my dad was extremely excited to have a daughter he could dress in a Mexican soccer jersey. I was the girl in school who always had straight A’s, never stopped talking and always had many friends around her. Growing up like this instilled a sense of coddle in me. However, when I turned 12, I was forced to be isolated from the world around me. When I turned 12, going to school in person was not normal anymore and I quickly realized that life would not always be this simple. Being isolated from socialization had a significant impact on me. During the 2 years of quarantine, I developed an engrossed state of mind. I never really understood why I felt overtaken by my thoughts or how those with bubbly personalities could be dealing with anxiety because no one ever expects the most outgoing people to be concurrently experiencing apprehensive thoughts.

I didn't feel like I was left alone but I knew I could not rely solely on my parents to guide me through everything. I had to learn to engage in conversations while simultaneously dealing with anxiety, making it even more difficult to form connections. The vast group of people I spent time with for the first few years of my life moved on when I decided that it would be a promising idea to switch schools. My first year of high school, I moved to a completely new district, and it was to my surprise that building relationships was not as easy as I remembered. This was my first year back to school, in-person, since COVID and I knew my parents were aware because this year, for the first time ever, my GPA was lower than a 4.0. For the first time since I was 12, I felt distraught because, as the daughter of two parents who excelled in college, I did not want to disappoint them. From then on, my anxiety amplified when I developed a fear of failure. I was afraid that my strongest performances would not be enough to impress my successful parents. This fear did not bring me down but more so, motivated me to work and focus my energy on outcomes, not problems because I've learned from experience that you can lose yourself in the process of trying to fit other’s standards.

After barely getting through my first year I high school, I realized that the only way to continue was to change my perspective on how I perceive the world around me. I began to look for the good in my surroundings rather than dwell on the troubles. My grades began improving again as I continued actively socializing and exploring new opportunities. I was even able to significantly increase my volunteer hours as I realized that I greatly enjoyed being around positive people. Although I felt like I had lost 2 years of life and friendships because of my anxiety, I am even more motivated to build a new life with encouraging individuals around me. I learned to disagree when teachers say that your grades are not a reflection of who you are as a person because I am a clear example that opposes this. I recognized that although my life is in direct correlation with the outcome of my scores, I shouldn't allow them to determine how I live. I've learned that changing the way I perceive failed outcomes grants me the ability to simultaneously embrace an optimistic lifestyle with impressive results.