"Believe you can and you're halfway there."
— Theodore Roosevelt
Angel's POV.
After I made that promise to my mother…
I held onto it like my life depended on it.
Because in many ways—it did.
Every night, I knelt beside my bed and prayed.
"God," I would whisper, "help me become who I promised to be."
And then…
I worked.
--
By then, I was in the 12th grade.
My days became a routine of discipline and determination. I woke up early, studied before school, paid attention in every class, and stayed up late into the night revising my notes.
There were no shortcuts.
No excuses.
Only effort.
I joined the press club at school—at first, just as a member.
But over time, something changed.
I found my voice.
And before I knew it, I was elected president of the press club.
That moment meant more to me than people realized.
It wasn't just a title.
It was proof… that I was growing.
I didn't stop there.
I became a child rights advocate, speaking up for those who didn't have the courage or the platform to speak for themselves.
Eventually, I was elected president of the Children's Parliament.
A dream I had carried in my heart since I was little.
Every time I stood before others—sharing ideas, defending rights, inspiring change—I felt something deep within me come alive.
For the first time…
I felt like I was becoming the person I had seen in my dream.
But as the West African Senior School Certificate Examination (WASSCE) drew closer, fear began to creep in.
Two months.
That was all I had left.
The pressure was overwhelming.
What if I failed?
What if I disappointed my mother… Sister Agnes… my entire community?
The thought alone made my chest tighten.
So I prayed.
Not for success.
But for strength.
For direction.
For courage.
And somehow…
God answered.
I got the opportunity to connect with someone I deeply admired—the dux of WASSCE 2019/2020, Blessing Jalieba.
An alumna of St. Teresa Convent.
By then, she was in Singapore, pursuing her master's degree.
I didn't expect her to respond.
But she did.
And for the next two months, she guided me.
She didn't just teach me subjects—
She taught me confidence.
"Believe in yourself," she told me.
"Your dream is valid."
"Never give up."
Her words became my strength on the days I felt like giving up.
Before the examination, my mother called me.
She asked me to kneel.
She blessed me in our traditional way—her voice soft but powerful as she spoke life and favor over me.
"God will guide you," she said. "You will succeed."
I closed my eyes…
And believed her.
The day I sat for the WASSCE…
My hands trembled slightly as I held my pen.
But deep inside—
There was peace.
I gave it my all.
Then came the waiting.
The longest days of my life.
The day the results were to be announced, my mother and I went to Sister Agnes' house.
We sat together in the living room, listening to ELBC radio.
My heart pounded with every second that passed.
"The results will be announced shortly," the Minister of Education said.
I couldn't take it anymore.
"I'll be right back," I whispered, rushing to the bathroom.
I stood there, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to steady my breathing.
Then—
I heard the radio.
Names of schools.
Performance reports.
Pass rates.
Failures.
My heart raced faster.
Then suddenly—
My name.
I froze.
"…the dux of WASSCE is Angel Richardson…"
For a moment…
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
Did I hear that right?
I stepped out slowly.
Mama and Sister Agnes were already on their feet—
laughing, crying, dancing.
Joy filled the room like a wave.
"Angel!" my mother cried, pulling me into her arms.
I stood there, overwhelmed.
This was real.
It had happened.
Soon, everything changed.
The President of Liberia requested an interview with me.
After that, everyone wanted to know me—people I had never met, people who once ignored me.
But I was careful.
I chose my circle wisely.
Because I knew—
This was only the beginning.
Then came the news that felt like a dream within a dream.
A scholarship.
To study at University of Oxford.
My dream university.
Fully sponsored.
My education… my future… secured.
Tears filled my eyes.
Not tears of pain.
But of gratitude.
"God…" I whispered, "thank You."
Because now I understood—
Every tear.
Every insult.
Every moment I almost gave up…
Had led me here.
And this time—
I wasn't just doing it for my family.
I was doing it for Liberia.