Narrative Essay On Medical School

Last December, our lovely guidance counselor, Mrs. McBride, forwarded an email to all juniors urging anyone interested in entering the medical field to apply to MU’s High School Mini Medical School. I generally blow off all the emails sent from her because they are usually full of irrelevant content, but this email ignited (vivid verb) such a fire in me that 15 fire trucks could not have put it out. The ponderous, mango colored school bus full of screaming children dropped me off at my house that chilly afternoon in December. Before I got to the door, I shouted, “Mom, start saving your money because I’m going to Mini-Med this summer!” The morning of April 15th, I received my acceptance letter. Shaking with excitement (participial phrase), I called my mom in the middle of art class, not caring about the cell-phone use policy. June 26th-30th I spent the five, most
Cole was not just a regular medical student; he was his class’s Vice President and ranked number three out of his class of over 200. In the minute and a half it took Cole to tell me about his life, I went from feeling like a sheep without its wool armor to a self-assured lion ready to bare its sharp teeth. Leaving campus, all the other Mini-Med students were revealing to their parents their awesome, blood filled week enthusiastically. Walking down the long hallway to exit the building, tears welled in my eyes and the goofiest smile appeared on my face. I told my parents as they were giving me a very concerned look, “I can do this. I can get into medical school, and I will succeed. In ten years, I’m going to be a neurosurgeon, not a sanitation specialist.”
Before this moment of clarity, I believed my small town upbringing defined(vivid verb) my future, but now I know one does not rely on the