Personal Essay Example
NATHAN
“I’m not cut out for this,” Maya muttered as we settled into our first computer science tutoring session.
She explained that she’d enrolled in the intro course full of excitement, only to find herself lost within weeks.
Her story resonated with me. In large classes, it’s easy for students to fall behind, especially when lessons move at a pace designed for the majority rather than the individual. Remembering how I once felt overwhelmed in freshman biology, I wanted to ensure Maya had the chance to discover whether programming was truly not for her—or whether she just needed a different way in.
I promised her that I’d make the material less intimidating, and more importantly, that she’d get a fair shot at enjoying the subject.
Helping Maya was part of my responsibilities as a teaching assistant for introductory computer science, where I supported several sections each semester. The role allowed me to step in where the regular curriculum sometimes left gaps—answering questions, walking through logic step by step, and showing students how concepts connected to real life.
My drive to teach stemmed from my own fascination with programming. The precision and creativity of code hooked me instantly. I discovered that even small scripts could solve real problems: one program picked a random local restaurant when my family couldn’t agree on dinner; another scoured websites to find an earlier driver’s test appointment so I wouldn’t have to wait months. Watching a few lines of code ripple out into practical results gave me a sense of agency I hadn’t felt before.
That sense of empowerment fueled a desire to share the subject with others. I co-founded a club called First Steps in Coding, where beginners could receive one-on-one help and practice the fundamentals in a welcoming space. Our goal was simple: make programming accessible, regardless of whether someone saw themselves as a “tech person.” It was through this club that I first met Maya.
At our early sessions, her frustration was obvious. To keep her engaged, I designed short, focused exercises around variables, functions, and loops. Just as importantly, I began each meeting by listening, asking her to describe exactly where she got stuck. I learned quickly that teaching wasn’t about repeating explanations louder; it was about understanding how each student thought and adapting accordingly. When I saw her confusion give way to tentative curiosity, I felt the first spark of progress.
Over time, our work deepened. Before exams, we reviewed material over video calls, weaving past topics into new ones so the knowledge built naturally. I often asked her to “teach back” a problem to me, explaining each step as if she were the instructor. Gradually, her questions shifted. Instead of “Why doesn’t this code run?” she began asking, “Is there a cleaner way to solve this?” That change signaled a real transformation—she was no longer just surviving the class, but exploring it.
The most gratifying moment came months later during course registration. She called me, not with homework in hand, but with next year’s schedule pulled up on her screen. At the very top of her requests was AP Computer Science. I didn’t need to hear anything else; her decision spoke louder than words.
Thinking back to our first session, I realized the outcome mattered less than the process. My mission wasn’t to make every student a future programmer but to make sure each one had the chance to discover what the field could offer. With Maya, that meant watching uncertainty evolve into genuine enthusiasm.
Computer science gave me a toolkit to solve practical problems in my own life, but teaching it revealed something greater: the joy of helping others find confidence in themselves. That’s the approach I want to carry with me to college and beyond: building opportunities for others to explore, create, and grow.