Like any child, I was looking forward to a great summer. However, I didn’t know this summer would change me in every aspect of life.

I had just finished my gruesome eighth grade semester. It wasn’t one of my best, since I barely passed. In Sweden, my native country, that’s when you first receive your grades.

I was afraid of what my parents would think– well, do – when they saw the grades that I would soon present. My parents had praised my sisters for their grades and weren’t pleased about my immature behavior and low grades.

The last day in school was always a day when I was the most nervous, but I always thought maybe, just maybe, my teachers would cut me some slack.

Every year, I promised not to put myself in that position, but that was just a lie to make myself feel better. Doomsday arose, my well-educated childhood friends and I received our unbearable grades.

As we got closer to home, those tough macho guys turned to momma’s boys.

I showed my parents my grades, and they asked how and why do I always get such bad grades? I always responded the same way: It’s the teachers fault not mine, they are there to teach me, yet they always find ways to somehow make it impossible to understand. My father couldn’t take it anymore. Behind my back, they decided to send me away to my “assertive” aunt to talk some sense into me.

My father “asked” me if I wanted to travel. I always found it very interesting to see other places in the world, so of course I said yes. But when I asked where, my father responded that it would be a “surprise.” So, without having any say, I was forced to travel. As soon as I landed in Eilat, Israel, my aunt and her militant husband greeted me. My gut feeling said this is not looking very good, but I shrugged it off.

My aunt, god bless her soul, was old school. She is the type that always went to church and, most ironically, believed in beating misbehaving children.

One of the first things discussed was why I wasn’t doing well in school and at home. I respectfully answered that next semester it would all change. My aunt responded, “I know it will.” This gave me the chills. As we both knew exactly what she meant.

After I got settled in, I managed to sit in my uncle’s chair at dinner. He then started cursing about me not having respect for him because I sat in his chair. At first I thought, “how am I supposed to know,” but I said I’m sorry, and was grounded on the first day. Thus began the trip from hell.

My aunt took a vacation so I would spend more time with her. My mother had sent me my old math and grammar books so that I would review two hours a day and then finish it off with reading novels.

This is not exactly what I had dreamt of doing during my summer.

Quickly, I realized what I was doing wasn’t just hurting my parents, but also myself.

One day, my aunt took me to the holy church in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, and something struck me: I needed a change. I didn’t know what that feeling was, but it was the first time I was happy in weeks.

The following day we went to see more historical locations such as the Wailing Wall and the holy mosque in Jerusalem.

Seeing places like that put my life in perspective. Seeing religious themes made me want to do well in life, as I have a religious background.

After a month of hard labor and studying, I returned to Sweden and I told my friends about my experience. I knew we all had to change if we wanted to achieve something in life.

A couple years later I realized that trip defined who I am today and what I live for: my parents and my siblings. I knew I’d never let any of them down again.