From Colegio Menor Quito To Princeton

Last year, in my English Literature class, we read an interesting novel titled How to Read Literature Like a Professor. Funny enough, its first chapter was labeled “Every Trip is a Quest (Except When It’s Not)”. It explored how almost any journey in literature follows a quest-like structure, no matter how ordinary it may seem. At the time, the idea seemed clever but unimportant.  

But somehow, it kept creeping back into my mind: during late-night study sessions, during Classco and Coreografìas meetings, in the middle of dinner with my family, and especially during the college application process.  

Now, I’ve realized that my journey to Princeton University was exactly that: a quest. Not because it had a powerful, cliché ending, but because it required growth.  

THE DREAM BEGINS 
From a very young age, I have been an extreme perfectionist. My ponytail couldn’t have a single bump. My stuffed animals needed the perfect outfit for our tea parties. Everything had to feel controlled, just right.  

At eight years old, I would spend my free time creating a full life plan: complete with dates, carefully designed Pinterest boards, and meticulously selected dreams. My interests changed constantly, but the longing for my future never did.  

 Looking back now, I see how that 13-year-old Marie, the one obsessively watching YouTube videos of students moving into their dream schools, was quietly planting a dream of her own.  I would sit on my bed, watching strangers unpack suitcases in dorm rooms at universities I had never seen in real life. It felt distant. Almost fictional. Like the day when I would actually apply to college would never come.  

And maybe that was the beginning of the quest, not the acceptance letter, not even the application, but the moment where I had to stop being an observer and start becoming the protagonist of my own journey.  

WHEN DREAMS BECOME DEMANDING   
If every quest needs a traveler, a destination, and a series of trials, then mine had all three. The destination seemed clear: getting into my dream university. The stated goal was simple: be accepted, move in. But as I would later learn, the real reason for the journey had very little to do with a title.  

Colegio Menor has been the setting of this entire story. It is where dreams stopped being passive.  They could no longer remain just dreams; they started demanding effort.   

But at the beginning, coming out of the pandemic, the shift was not empowering… it was overwhelming.  

Having this dream made me believe everything had to be perfect: my grades, my leadership roles, even the way I carried myself. Entering high school was hard. Friends were not the same, classes were not the same, and expectations were not the same. Each area challenged me in ways I had not experienced before, which created pressure.  

I felt that if I wanted a future that once seemed fictional, I had to earn it flawlessly. Mistakes felt dangerous, falling behind felt like the end of the world. It wasnt just working toward a goal; it was trying to prove I deserved it.  

LEARNING THROUGH THE MESSY PARTS 
There were moments when I doubted whether my ideas were insightful enough, when I compared myself to my classmates. I often felt a silent pressure to demonstrate that I was enough: that my voice was strong enough, that my contributions were meaningful enough. 

But something shifted over time.  

It happened slowly, through moments that at first seemed small. A class discussion where a teacher challenged the way I thought about a text. A Classco meeting where I relized leadership meant listening more than speaking. Late nights preparing Coreografìas with friends, when the goal stopped being perfection and started being collaboration.  

Little by little, I began to understand something that the beginning of my “quest” had missed: growth rarely looks perfect while it's happening. It’s messy, disorganized, and has its ups and downs.  

The experiences that shaped me the most at Colegio Menor were not the moments when everything went according to plan, but the moments when things felt uncertain. Those were the moments that forced me to think, to lead, to adapt, and sometimes simply to trust myself more than I had before.  

TELLING MY STORY  
By the time college applications arrived, the process was still stressful. There were essays, deadlines, and many moments of uncertainty. But the goal felt different than it had years earlier.  

It was no longer about proving that I deserved to be somewhere. It was about sharing who I had become. Writing my essays wasn’t about listing all the things I had done, or just what had happened to me… it was about how all these things have changed me and shaped me to be the person I am today.  

THE ACCEPTANCE 
When I finally opened my Princeton acceptance letter, surreal. What for years had only existed as an internal, distant desire was now real. Seeing the words on the screen felt shocking but also quiet, like the end of a long chapter rather than the sudden climax of the story.  

And in that moment, I realized something surprising: Princeton was not the treasure at the end of the quest.  

The real reward was everything that happened along the way.  

ADVICE FOR YOUNGER STUDENTS  
For younger students who might be starting their own journey, my biggest advice is simple: focus less on building the “perfect” profile and more on building a genuine one. Join the club that you genuinely love, the one that makes your heart beat faster. Try new things that interest you, let yourself be curious. Let yourself fail sometimes.  

So when the time comes, sharing your story is not just about checking off what you have done, but what it has turned you into.  

WHAT I TAKE WITH ME
What I will carry most from Colegio Menos is not just the academic preparation or the opportunities but the people and moments that challenged me to grow: teachers who pushed me to think, friends who turned long projects into unforgettable memories, and the people who constantly reminded me that learning happens both inside and outside the classroom.  

As I begin this next chapter at Princeton University, I am excited not just for the destination but for the journey that continues.  

Because if literature has taught me anything, it's that the most meaningful quests are never really about the place where you arrive.  

They are about the person you become along the way.