Growing Up

"Growing Up"
I'm short. I'm five foot five – well, five foot six if I want to impress someone. If the average height of American men is five foot ten, that means I'm nearly half a foot
shorter than the average Joe out there. And then there are the basketball players.
My height has always been something that's set me apart; it's helped define me. It's just that as long as I can remember, I haven't liked the definition very much. Every
Sunday in grade school my dad and I would watch ESPN Primetime Football. Playing with friends at home, I always imagined the booming ESPN voice of Chris Berman giving the play-by-play of our street football games. But no matter how well I
performed at home with friends, during school recess the stigma of "short kid" stuck
with me while choosing teams.
Still concerned as senior year rolled along, I visited a growth specialist. Pacing the exam room in a shaky, elliptical orbit worried, "What if I've stopped growing? Will my social status forever be marked by my shortness?" In a grade school dream, I
imagined Chris "ESPN" Berman's voice as he analyzed the fantastic catch I had
made for a touchdown when – with a start – the doctor strode in. damp with nervous sweat, I sat quietly with my mom as he showed us the X-ray taken of my hand. The
bones in my seventeen-year-old body had matured. I would not grow any more.
Whoa. I clenched the steering wheel in frustration as I drove home. What good were my grades and "college transcript" achiev
of the short kid? What good was it to pray, or to genuinely live a life of love? No matter how many Taekwondo medals I had won, could I ever be considered truly athletic in a wiry, five foot five frame? I could be dark and handsome, but could I
ever be the "tall" in "tall, dark and handsome"? All I wanted was someone special to
look up into my eyes; all I wanted was someone to ask, "Could you reach that for
me?"
It's been hard to deal with. I haven't answered all those questions, but I have learned that height isn't all it's made out to be. I 'd rather be a shorter, compassionate person than a tall tyrant. I can be a giant in so many other ways:
intellectually, spiritually and emotionally. I've ironically grown taller from being short. It's enriched my life. Being short has certainly had its advantages. During elementary school in earthquake-prone
California for example, my teachers constantly praised my "duck and cover" skills. The school budget was tight and the desks were so small an occasional limb could
always be seen sticking out. Yet Chris Shim, "blessed" in height, always managed to
squeeze himself into a compact and safe fetal position. The same quality has paid off
in hide-and-go-seek. (I'm the unofficial champion on my block.)
Lincoln once debated with Senator Stephen A. Douglas – a magnificent orator, nationally recognized as the leader of the Democratic Party of 1858… and barely five
feet four inches tall. It seems silly, but standing on the floor of the Senate last year I remembered Senator Douglas and imagined that I would one day debate with a
future president. (It helped to have a tall, lanky, bearded man with a stove-top hat
talk with me that afternoon.) But I could just as easily become an astronaut, if not for my childlike, gaping-mouth-eyes-straining wonderment of the stars, then maybe in the hope of growing a few inches (the spine spontaneously expands in the absence of gravity).
Even at five feet, six inches, the actor Dustin Hoffman held his own against Tome
Cruise in the movie Rainman and went on to win his second Academy Award for Best Actor. Michael J. Fox (5'5") constantly uses taller actors to his comedic advantage.
Height has enhanced the athleticism of "Muggsy" Bogues, the shortest player in the history of the NBA at five foot three. He's used that edge to lead his basketball team in steals (they don't call him "Muggsy" for nothing). Their height has put no limits to
their work in the arts or athletics. Neither will mine.
I'm five foot five. I've struggled with it at times, but I've realized that being five-five can't stop me from joining the Senate. It won't stem my dream of becoming an astronaut (I even have the application from NASA). My height can't prevent me from directing a movie and excelling in Taekwondo (or even basketball). At five foot five I can laugh, jump, run, dance, write, paint, help, volunteer, pray, love and cry. I can break 100 in bowling. I can sing along to Nat King Cole. I can recite Audrey Hepburn's lines from Breakfast at Tiffany's. I can run the mile in under six minutes, dance like a wild monkey and be hopelessly wrapped up in a good book (though I have yet to master the ability to do it all at once). I've learned that my height, even as a defining characteristic, is only a part of the whole. It won't limit me. Besides, this way I'll never outgrow my favorite sweater. ANALYSIS
"Growing Up" follows the form of discussing a physical or character trait, and exploring its impact on one's life. Shim's strategy is for the reader to understand his frustrations with his height, a physical characteristic that has played a great role in the way he sees himself among his family, friends, and peers. This piece works because it is to the point, honest, and straight-forward. The
opening, "I'm short," delivers a clear message to the reader of the essay's main idea. As the essay progresses, Shim reveals his personal feelings and aspirations. He gives us a window into the very moment of discovery that he would no longer be
able to grow. We are taken on a tour of what makes Shim tick. Being short has
shaped and influenced his outlook on the world, yet it has not diminished his goals.
It is personal, yet remains positive. He recognizes both the benefits and negatives of his short stature and is able to convey them in a thoughtful manner. Furthermore, the essay not only lets us into Shim's thoughts on being small but tells us his varied
interests in politics, space exploration, sports, and the arts. Shim hasn't just told us
how his height "doesn't limit him" he has shown us why.