I awkwardly stumbled my way through my freshman year, literally. If it wasn’t the stairs or someone’s foot sticking out from their desk, I would somehow manage to find something invisible to trip over. On the first day of school, while walking into my first class, I slipped over absolutely nothing and sent my thermos flying across the room. That was typical, one embarrassing moment was bound to happen on that day. However, my day of making “great” first impressions didn’t end there.

The next class began with attendance, but my name was not called. I was puzzled for only a few seconds before I realized the humiliating mistake that I had made: I was not in that class. I raised my hand, the professor acknowledged me, and to my horror, blurted out “I’m in the wrong class… so I’m gonna leave.” There was muffled laughter behind me (because like the good noodle that I was determined to be, I sat towards the front of the classroom.) As I stood up to leave, I attempted to swing my overly-stuffed backpack onto my shoulder. Instead, I flipped the desk. My pencils scattered, my notebook landed on a classmate’s lap, and my thermos was again lying on the floor, spilling a puddle of lukewarm tea. The muffled laughter exploded and the guy who caught my notebook began to help me pick everything up. When I finally made it into the hall, I held my face in my hands as I could still hear roaring laughter coming from behind the door.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that words spread like wildfire through a small campus. I felt as if that day would affect the rest of my college years, and that I was doomed to only be seen as accident-prone from that point on. Even after I got to know some of my classmates, they seemed so amused by my overly clumsy demeanor that they hardly noticed anything else about me. It was frustrating to feel as if that was the only thing that made me interesting to others when I had qualities that I felt were more worth noticing. Yet, I still accepted and sometimes even agreed with their jokes about how awkward I was. What I wish I would have realized at the time was that I didn’t have to let their views of me determine who I was or who I would be able to become.

Now, instead of letting others create my identity for me, I have chosen to make it for myself. I continue to be inspired by the words of Anne Frank, who wisely said, “The final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.” What does this mean? That I can decide who I want to be and what I want to be known for. I have good qualities besides my tendency to trip and fall, that, recognized or not, are part of who I am. However, I know that in order to become who I want to be, I need to work at it intentionally. I need to put effort into having characteristics that I would be proud and excited to be known for.

I want to become someone who manages their time and finances well. Someone who is aware of current events that are happening around the world. Someone who cares enough about the environment to make changes in their daily routine. Someone who will relentlessly chase their goals until they achieve them. And most importantly, I want to become someone who daily grows in their relationship with Jesus.