“Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.” This quote used to be my motto for the first 15 years. Like other callow teenagers, I was restless, assertive, impulsive, with a strong sense of self-efficacy and a desire to achieve great things. I calculated the chance of success and drew a rigorous picture to achieve it. 

I maintained this mindset until a spelling bee competition. It was a flagship event that drew everyone’s attention. There were some small spelling games taking place in our class, and every time, yes, every time, I beat other contestants without even learning the vocabulary list.

Because of my excellent record at class contests, I was selected as one of the final representatives with my friend, Jenny. Jenny was appointed by accident, or, according to what I believed back then, by luck. She received simple words so she had a chance to stand out. 

I browsed through the list roughly and found no unfamiliar words. I threw away the paper and secretly added “spelling bee competition champion” on my Common Application. 

My confidence soared like a bubble, where finally, one day, it exploded. 

I knew that I would win. When I stood on the stage with my friends, while they are nervously rehearsing the words, I was busy preparing for what I should say after I became the champion. I was planning to say: “I’m not surprised by this result because I am the only one who is destined to be the winner.” 

The game proceeded peacefully. Some people were beaten by primary vocabularies which in terms strengthened my ignorant confidence. The first round I did a great job. I spell out the word loudly with a poised smile. The second round I received the word “sapphire.” I panicked because I’ve never heard of it before. I tried to guess it, as this method that had been proven successful, but this time it didn’t work. When the judge informed me that I was incorrect, I lost every emotion. 

My classmates’ facial expressions are still vivid to date. I could clearly perceive their incredulity and disappointment upon my performance. 

I left the stage like a frustrated rabbit, unloading all my arrogance and contempt. I’ve never thought that I could lose like that. I knew every word delivered by other contestants, and I could score the highest if it was a standardized test. But life doesn’t endorse “If that happens.” We held back our tears until we saw the irreversible result. 

The winner was Jenny. I think she deserves it, at least more than that of mine. Teachers were amazed and they praised her with unprecedented delight. 

Later that day, I logged in to Common App and erased the honor. I am thankful that I lost because I found something more meaningful than the result of being a winner. I understood the importance of modesty. If I win this time, I will lose the chance of a solemn reflection and spiritual growth. 

After that, I have never regarded winning as the ultimate thing. I refine my skill while enjoying the process of chasing a dream. I retain the confidence to think big while evaluating the game with modesty and reverence.