I cannot believe how awesome Leigh's college application essay is! She has granted me permission to post it here. Go, Leigh!
Leigh Rombs College Essay
I could go on for hours about the frequent national strikes in Italy, doctors who don't show up to their appointments, or the lack of public bathrooms. I could also talk endlessly about the stunning architecture, the sheer volume of art and basilicas, and the birds chirping every morning. If, however, I had to tell you about just one thing, I would have to recount how I went from struggling socially and academically while attending a school where I didn’t speak the language, to loving it so much that I chose to do it all over again, learning two more languages. What an extraordinary high school experience: the absurd beauty of learning a fourth language in a foreign country.
At the age of twelve, I moved to Rome with my family. On the first day of seventh grade at an Italian school, I could confidently say “Ciao.” I had the rest of the Italian language to master, while adjusting to the completely new environment, on top of facing the already difficult aspects of middle school. Between teachers that taught by yelling at students, spontaneous oral quizzes, and a completely subjective grading system (let's just hope Signora Bellini is not having an extra surge of Italian emotion this morning), I was utterly overwhelmed. To make matters worse, I discovered that many kids were being either mean or vulgar, and I was unsure how to react. I had to learn when to fight for something and when to let it go, and furthermore how to stand up for myself in my second language.
I was determined to use this opportunity to become stronger. I pushed myself academically, spiritually and socially. At the end of eighth grade, after taking the Italian state exam required for promotion to high school and scoring almost perfectly, outperforming most of my peers, I had a moment of epiphany: I had discovered the joy of learning.
Acknowledging the extent of this accomplishment, I dared to ask my parents if I could do it again, but now with German. In my 13-year-old judgment, reading the great philosophers and theologians that my parents often talked about in the original sounded impressive but doable. Incredulously and reticently, they helped me search for high schools that serve German-speaking populations in Rome. Against all odds, the Swiss School of Rome accepted my application. Almost a déjà-vu, I walked into the building on the first day of high school, confidently able to say “Guten Morgen.”
Despite the inevitable hard work, I had the benefit of my epiphany behind me, reminding me of the joy and that it was my choice. I quickly made friends with daughters of Swiss guards and other international students. Academically, however, it was not so seamless. At the beginning, I sometimes actually wondered what class I was in (not joking), because one teacher would teach multiple subjects, and my German was so limited that I could not even identify the topic. My memorisation skills from Italian proved invaluable in those first months, as I needed to give presentations on topics ranging from the human circulatory system to Maslow’s pyramid. My parents and I stared in disbelief at each report card–I was passing. Three and a half years later, I took the C2 German exam, and incredibly, I passed the speaking module.
Meanwhile, French was part of the curriculum. My classmates were already at an intermediate level, and so I was expected to study on my own at home. Through diligent work I was later able to pass the B1 French exam.
Between studying the poetry of Goethe and the philosophy of Schopenhauer, my epiphany has not waned. As I travel Europe with my friends, sitting in coach on a TrenItalia train, we change our phones to Portuguese or Polish and see how long we can manage. I look at my life and see that it is absurd. And beautiful.
