My New Strength by Sommer

My New Strength by Sommer - January 2026 Scholarship Essay

The moment I discovered a new strength in myself didn't happen when something went right, but when it nearly went wrong. I was repairing a game console late at night, breezing through since I was already comfortable with the console, until one mistake threatened to rip the very confidence I had built from the ground up. A screw stripped, a component would not seat correctly, and when I reassembled the console, it refused to power on. In that moment, panic set in. I realized I could either walk away and accept failure, essentially tossing the console to the abyss of parts I have piled up under my workbench, or stay and face the problem I had created. What I discovered was not just technical ability, but I could actually stay calm when the average person would easily become overwhelmed.
At first, frustration took over. My hands trembled as I replayed each step in my head, wondering where I had gone wrong. It would have been easy to close the console, declare it broken, and convince myself that it would never be fixed. Instead, I paused. I took the system apart again, slower this time, retracing my steps carefully rather than just ripping it apart in anger. That decision marked a turning point. I learned that my instinct under pressure was not to quit, but to slow down, reassess, and keep working until I could see the bigger picture of where I went wrong.
As the hours passed, I began approaching what had happened differently. I broke the teardown into smaller sections, checking connections one by one and researching similar failures online. Eventually, I found the issue. A cable was seated incorrectly during reassembly. While to many, it seems like a common oversight showing that the repair might've been rushed, anything can really happen to anyone no matter how experienced you may be. When the console finally powered on, the relief I felt was not just about success. It came from realizing that I had stayed focused through my choking frustration, resisted the overwhelming urge to give up, and trusted my ability to work through complexity. That night taught me that persistence is not screaming and shouting from the roof tops how determined you are to get this right, but quiet, graceful discipline.
This experience reshaped how I view challenges beyond just console repairs. I began recognizing the same pattern in programming, where bugs rarely reveal themselves immediately and solutions require patience and repeated testing. Debugging code often feels just like that night-confusing, discouraging, and mentally exhausting-but I now know that progress comes from staying present and methodical. Instead of seeing setbacks as signs of failure, I see them as a trail guiding me closer to a solution. That shift in my mindset has allowed me to grow more confident in technical environments that demand resilience.
My strength has also influenced how I approach responsibility in other areas of my life. Whether managing demanding workloads or learning unfamiliar material, I no longer run away and give up when things start to get hard. I break problems into small, doable parts, focus on what I can control, and keep pushing forward. I have singlehandedly became more reliable, self-directed, and disciplined, especially when results don't happen right away.
More importantly, this moment taught me something about who I am becoming. Growth does not come from avoiding mistakes, but from confronting them honestly and persistently. That console repair showed me that I can work through uncertainty without losing confidence in myself. It reinforced my belief that meaningful progress, whether in technology, education, or my own goals, comes from constant effort overtime. You will never have anything fed to you on a silver spoon in life.
It also has shaped my future. I now face challenges with the understanding that difficulty is not a barrier, but a necessary part of growth. The ability to stay patient, focused, and committed when outcomes are uncertain is a skill I will carry forward in programming and beyond. That night, surrounded by scattered screws and green slabs of plastic, I learned that resilience is built one problem at a time - and that I am capable of far more than I once believed.