Topic of your choice.

    “Pikachu, I choose you!” yelled Ash Ketchum. A small, yellow figure raced across the glass television screen and was momentarily filled by a flash of yellow. Flipping through the channels with my remote, I was instantly hooked by this fortuitous discovery, and my mind continued to swim after the show ended.

    That famous catchphrase was my introduction to the world of Pokémon. I was six, caught by the wave that was then sweeping the nation. The myriad of fantastic creatures with their unique abilities astounded me, and immediately after grasping the gist of this fad, I immersed myself in Pokémon lore, determined to uncover the secrets behind the magic; I watched the newest episodes, my heart pounding harder than a taiko drum and my head slightly leaning forward as if I were to fall into the graphic world; I trembled with anticipation whenever a new TCG expansion set was introduced, groaning whenever I found trading cards I already had and squealing with delight at the sight of a rarity. 

    However, my parents saw the potential harm from such immature “garbage”, and did everything in their power to resist my constant pestering about the latest merchandise and video game news. Our bickering continued as I entered middle school, and by that time, Pokémon was but a mere remnant of what took the world by storm, a flickering memory that only made people go “Oh, yeah, the gotta catch‘em all thing?” the first second and forget it by the next; yet my penchant – some might begin to call it an obsession – remained. I desperately clinged on onto whatever childhood footholds I could find, engaging my classmates whenever I could about Pokémon, 

    My so-called obsession led to a period of ostracism by my peers in middle school; they would ignore me, casting shifty glances at my unusually upbeat attitude and only converse with me whenever the “memory” was mentioned, turning away whenever the opportunity arose. Needless to say, I was oblivious to the negligence, and passed each day in my own fantasy world. 

    Nevertheless, it was this “obsession” that ultimately allowed me to become one of the student leaders in high school. As tenth grade rolled by, I began to consider my and potential academic and vocational prospects for the future. By that time, I had whittled down my post-secondary options; I could not pursue a career in mathematics and physics, my literary skills were virtually non-existent, and I was left to rot whenever phys. ed. was scheduled. Nonetheless, it was through Pokémon that I became acquainted with wonders of biology. 

I realized that the numerous species of Pokémon, each unique to every other, possessed inherent qualities that characterized each individual; similarly, the organisms classified by biologists continue to evolve, further diversifying the individual within the species. I relentlessly pursued this newly found subject, indulging myself in it to the extent that it became quotidian for me to dab “biology jargon” in daily conversations. My peers noticed this sudden change, but believed it to be a short reprieve from the obstreperous kid who was constantly mouthing off Pokédex values. They were wrong. I overcame numerous obstacles, both social and academic, during my junior year of high school, actively demonstrating my knowledge of biological sciences and leading enriching activities in our biology club. I introduced resources our teacher supervisor never heard of, and performed beyond the expectations of my disparaging classmates on related competitions. A growing number of younger students as well as seniors began to consult me whenever they needed help with biology work, inside and outside of school. 

    True, there are still those who still shun my sudden spurt in ability, claiming that “Jeffrey’s still a dork who plays Pokémon Diamond and Pearl when the PS3’s out”, but I’m quite content with that. Pokémon has allowed me to develop my current abilities, acting as a motivator, and whenever I complete an experiment or lower my eyes onto a microscope, I smile because I know that the fateful day has led me to what I’ve become: a biologist, with a lab coat around my back and a microscope in my hands.