Mark was a first place winner of a 2025 NJCTS Scholarship.
Here is the essay he included with his application.
“Surely, if I can do one 5-minute increment without ticcing, I can do two.”
I was diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome at 9 years old—3 years earlier with tics. At that time, my family had no idea what to do. It wasn’t at all fatal, but they assumed social issues would arise. It’s not their fault: having Tourette’s meant that I would not just make involuntary movements; I would also utter spontaneous verbal phrases that most children would find unusual and possibly frightening.
“Five minutes passed with only a few tics: better but not perfect.” I pressed the “Reset” button for the twentieth time. I believed that my tics would disappear if I kept at it.
I tried to pay little mind to my Tourette’s until 5th grade when my tics exploded. What would my future entail, and what would others think of me? Most people were understanding, but some were not. A curious peer asked me once why I couldn’t stop. To me, it felt like asking a blind person to see, but they had a point: why couldn’t I just quit?
Thankfully, with the help of my therapist, my syndrome gradually became redefined. He taught me about ”Competing Responses,” a strategy whereby I would make a counter-movement, to block a tic from happening. Skills like these would culminate in a 5-minute timed challenge, where I would use everything I learned to prevent a tic. I did these constantly, trying to free myself, but I was struggling. However, a nugget of information that slipped from his lips one visit stunned me:
“You will never lose Tourette’s, so don’t try to suppress it. Live with it.”
His words have been my creed ever since.
For my whole life, I thought I could cure my tics. Now, I had to learn to deal with them from a novel perspective.
I put down my smartwatch for the day—I’ve tried my best. As I stare at the ceiling of my room, dimly lit by the red digits of my alarm clock, I reflect on the day. Scrounging for a blanket, I’m reminded of today’s feats: learning to sing a new song, memorizing my lines, and getting a great score on my test. As my eyes get heavy, I finally realize that tics don’t hold me back.
Living through high school, I can confidently say I found myself. I’ve found passion, fulfilled my social life, and challenged myself. I’ve developed interests in wildly different disciplines, from calculus-based physics to medieval literature. I’m devoted to art and leadership, becoming part of my high school’s Theatre Guild Board and President of the Music Honors Society.
And the tics never ceased.
I’ve performed solos and scenes in front of hundreds of audience members; countless times I have ticced on stage while performing, and it will happen numerous times again.
“Did anyone notice my tics? It didn’t matter; I finished my performance, and the crowd roared.” The ticking of the clock no longer marks the ticcing of myself.
