Hello everyone! I realized that today is Saturday and that Spring Break is relatively over or indefinitely continued until the end of the semester. I also realized it was 4 years ago that I was rejected from UCB today :P hehehe
I want to share my first essay for my class, Art of Scientific Writing (IB 101), which is a small fun class that I highly recommend. The reason I want to share this essay now is because I feel reminiscent of my childhood as I cleaned out my family's old stuff in our storage room. I also am excited by how springtime is bringing a lot of life in this crazy time we are in. I hope you all enjoy reading it.
My earliest and fondest memories of my childhood home in Fremont, California is when I snuck outside to run up the verdant hills that nuzzled the end of my court. I do not recall when I first strolled up those hills, but I vividly remember feeling joyful when I walked through the enveloping, dense grass. The world seemed bright and boundless just like the hills. I pretended that I was an explorer searching for adventure and a path to Mission Peak, Fremont’s iconic summit and hiking spot. I often daydreamed what it would be like to climb up from the hills to Mission Peak and go paragliding while I watched paragliders floating down from the peak in streams of colors. I also wondered what caused the geologic scar-like feature on Mission Peak. Is Mission Peak secretly an extinct volcano that caved in one side? Why does the scar look flat but so linear? Little did I know that I was looking at Mission Peak’s landslide scars caused by the 1998 El Niño rains and uplifting forces from the Calaveras and Hayward Faults. I also did not know that these geologic forces created the hills that spurred my imagination and later became my source of comfort when I moved houses in 2004.
Moving to a new neighborhood was difficult for me because I was thrown into an unknown territory. I relocated to a house adjacent to three public schools ten miles away from my old home. The hills that once were so close to me were now an unreachable backdrop from my new house. I was grateful to see them in the far distance, but I felt trapped, especially when I was bullied in elementary school. I found my solace in Mission Creek, a local creek in front of my new house. To my amazement, there was always a symphony in the creek. At night, there were owls hooting and frogs ribbiting. In the morning, scrub jays squawked and mourning doves cooed their sad songs. My sense of curiosity was rekindled and grew in Mission Creek, especially when my science teacher taught natural history lessons at the creek. Unfortunately, I started to lose my curiosity once my elementary school removed the field science program due to budget cuts and liabilities. Observing birds through binoculars was replaced by detailed drawings of birds in textbooks. During high school, I was discouraged to question the textbooks to maximize my grades, not my understanding of the material. When I went to UC Berkeley, I asked myself multiple times why I was interested in science whenever I lost my interest in courses full of mindless memorization. Frustration arose when I was instructed to memorize amino acids and chemical reactions because I felt I was graded based on accuracy, not out of interest. I knew it was time for me to go back to my roots.
When I came back to visit my old neighborhood fifteen years later, I walked to the hills as if I was under a trance. The grass was still a green, wavy sea rustling with life but was marked with barbed wire to deter nearby cattle and trespassers. Of course, I climbed over the wires and walked higher and higher until I could see both my old neighborhood and my current one on top of the hill. I soon discovered they were connected to each other because Mission Peak and the hills are the watershed that channel springwater to Mission Creek. I cried from the love this place had given me when I realized that these three key places are always there to beckon me home, especially the hills. These places compel me to explore the world with eyes of wonder and never let systematic barriers extinguish my curiosity and love for nature.
I want to share my first essay for my class, Art of Scientific Writing (IB 101), which is a small fun class that I highly recommend. The reason I want to share this essay now is because I feel reminiscent of my childhood as I cleaned out my family's old stuff in our storage room. I also am excited by how springtime is bringing a lot of life in this crazy time we are in. I hope you all enjoy reading it.
My earliest and fondest memories of my childhood home in Fremont, California is when I snuck outside to run up the verdant hills that nuzzled the end of my court. I do not recall when I first strolled up those hills, but I vividly remember feeling joyful when I walked through the enveloping, dense grass. The world seemed bright and boundless just like the hills. I pretended that I was an explorer searching for adventure and a path to Mission Peak, Fremont’s iconic summit and hiking spot. I often daydreamed what it would be like to climb up from the hills to Mission Peak and go paragliding while I watched paragliders floating down from the peak in streams of colors. I also wondered what caused the geologic scar-like feature on Mission Peak. Is Mission Peak secretly an extinct volcano that caved in one side? Why does the scar look flat but so linear? Little did I know that I was looking at Mission Peak’s landslide scars caused by the 1998 El Niño rains and uplifting forces from the Calaveras and Hayward Faults. I also did not know that these geologic forces created the hills that spurred my imagination and later became my source of comfort when I moved houses in 2004.
Moving to a new neighborhood was difficult for me because I was thrown into an unknown territory. I relocated to a house adjacent to three public schools ten miles away from my old home. The hills that once were so close to me were now an unreachable backdrop from my new house. I was grateful to see them in the far distance, but I felt trapped, especially when I was bullied in elementary school. I found my solace in Mission Creek, a local creek in front of my new house. To my amazement, there was always a symphony in the creek. At night, there were owls hooting and frogs ribbiting. In the morning, scrub jays squawked and mourning doves cooed their sad songs. My sense of curiosity was rekindled and grew in Mission Creek, especially when my science teacher taught natural history lessons at the creek. Unfortunately, I started to lose my curiosity once my elementary school removed the field science program due to budget cuts and liabilities. Observing birds through binoculars was replaced by detailed drawings of birds in textbooks. During high school, I was discouraged to question the textbooks to maximize my grades, not my understanding of the material. When I went to UC Berkeley, I asked myself multiple times why I was interested in science whenever I lost my interest in courses full of mindless memorization. Frustration arose when I was instructed to memorize amino acids and chemical reactions because I felt I was graded based on accuracy, not out of interest. I knew it was time for me to go back to my roots.
When I came back to visit my old neighborhood fifteen years later, I walked to the hills as if I was under a trance. The grass was still a green, wavy sea rustling with life but was marked with barbed wire to deter nearby cattle and trespassers. Of course, I climbed over the wires and walked higher and higher until I could see both my old neighborhood and my current one on top of the hill. I soon discovered they were connected to each other because Mission Peak and the hills are the watershed that channel springwater to Mission Creek. I cried from the love this place had given me when I realized that these three key places are always there to beckon me home, especially the hills. These places compel me to explore the world with eyes of wonder and never let systematic barriers extinguish my curiosity and love for nature.
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| Source of the springwater! |
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| Go outside to explore nature more! I'll teach you some plants :D |
