admission.snu.ac.kr/international/notice?md=v&bbsidx=146089
SNU - Desired College: HUMANITIES & SOCIAL SCIENCES
Desired Field of Study: SOCIAL WELFARE
So they're weren't many specifics for the prompt other than the word count not exceeding 3,000 characters. I think I exceeded it by 50-100 words. My undergraduate major was journalism and creative writing and I know social work as a master's is a bit different - I feel the piece is written in a more abstract way, but I felt it showed who I am a little more, but I am definitely open to any feedback and willing to change it .
Thank you in advance! Below is the prompt: (I focused on risk, if that wasn't obvious, that is also a problem I need to fix ^^::)
Personal Essay (This personal essay helps us become acquainted with you in ways different from courses, grades, test scores, and other objective data. It will demonstrate your ability to organize your thoughts and express yourself. Given your personal background, evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken; or discuss an issue of personal, local or international concern and its importance to you; or describe a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that impact. We are looking for an essay that will help us know you better as a person and as a student.)
I'm the girl who touches the stove. They say a burn is inevitable, and yet, the stove never scared me. My family always used it to create meals that could heal sickness or even repair emotional turmoil. Therefore, my childhood eyes only saw a magic box of appetizing opportunities. The flames looked maniacal, but when I'd let my gaze linger, they resembled blue waves dancing around each burner. Getting burned was a consequence, but consequence is a matter of perspective. At the end of the day, a consequence is just the end result, whether that be a red mark to toughen my skin or another warm dish to heal my inner child.
I grew up in the competitive district of Fairfax County, Virginia, where schools provided students with recipes for success. Although reliable, these recipes lacked variety and simmered life into a weak pilot light. My friends who left their parental first aid kits behind after moving away captivated me. The shining rays of their achievements pushed mine under the shade of my familial security net, making me question the validity of my fearless identity. So, against the advice of many, I chose to challenge the boundaries of how I learn and grow by moving overseas. I packed my life into a suitcase, said goodbye to those who loved and nurtured me, and headed to Korea in hopes of a new glass ceiling. Raised with the culture, Korea seemed familiar enough to learn new recipes at the expense of only a couple burns, but my first few months were exceedingly humbling.
Korea was more like an industrial kitchen with infinite burners and nobody to tend to my wounds. My frailty of the language was the first of my hardships. Filling out paperwork produced many judgemental stares as I struggled to write my own address, and conversations became games of deciphering my "Konglish". Other simple tasks, like reading a map, became a challenge too. However, feeling incompetent only created more opportunities for me to challenge myself. Every embarrassment aided my growth, but conquering the physical challenges only made room for mental ones.
Being Korean-American, I imagined entering Korea to feel like a reunion, but I didn't fit in. There was no room for America's southern hospitality in the bustling city of Seoul. I lived sardined in subway cars and crammed into corners of busy rooms, still feeling utterly alone. It seemed harder to find meaningful connections as an adult, so I refused to sit in the corner. I eventually reached the center of each busy room by conforming to other people's standards of beauty and societal values, but instead of a spotlight, I just disappeared into the crowd. Assimilating, forcing one-sided relationships and avoiding rejection made every reach over the stove result in third-degree burns all over my self-image. In order to heal, I began to prioritize my own values, and once my company felt like enough, meaningful connections followed naturally. I believe spending my emerging adult years in Korea was fundamental in shaping how I view adversity and better care for myself. The endless burners of Korea appeared less daunting when I looked at them individually. Igniting one was my decision to seize an opportunity and every burn I chose to learn from was me presenting the flames a shiny pot to dance with instead. Some burns stung more than others, but every flame helped me create something meaningful. I conquered the risk of moving to Korea without a recipe and let every rejection teach me a new way to cook.
SNU - Desired College: HUMANITIES & SOCIAL SCIENCES
Desired Field of Study: SOCIAL WELFARE
So they're weren't many specifics for the prompt other than the word count not exceeding 3,000 characters. I think I exceeded it by 50-100 words. My undergraduate major was journalism and creative writing and I know social work as a master's is a bit different - I feel the piece is written in a more abstract way, but I felt it showed who I am a little more, but I am definitely open to any feedback and willing to change it .
Thank you in advance! Below is the prompt: (I focused on risk, if that wasn't obvious, that is also a problem I need to fix ^^::)
Personal Essay (This personal essay helps us become acquainted with you in ways different from courses, grades, test scores, and other objective data. It will demonstrate your ability to organize your thoughts and express yourself. Given your personal background, evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken; or discuss an issue of personal, local or international concern and its importance to you; or describe a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that impact. We are looking for an essay that will help us know you better as a person and as a student.)
I'm the girl who touches the stove. They say a burn is inevitable, and yet, the stove never scared me. My family always used it to create meals that could heal sickness or even repair emotional turmoil. Therefore, my childhood eyes only saw a magic box of appetizing opportunities. The flames looked maniacal, but when I'd let my gaze linger, they resembled blue waves dancing around each burner. Getting burned was a consequence, but consequence is a matter of perspective. At the end of the day, a consequence is just the end result, whether that be a red mark to toughen my skin or another warm dish to heal my inner child.
I grew up in the competitive district of Fairfax County, Virginia, where schools provided students with recipes for success. Although reliable, these recipes lacked variety and simmered life into a weak pilot light. My friends who left their parental first aid kits behind after moving away captivated me. The shining rays of their achievements pushed mine under the shade of my familial security net, making me question the validity of my fearless identity. So, against the advice of many, I chose to challenge the boundaries of how I learn and grow by moving overseas. I packed my life into a suitcase, said goodbye to those who loved and nurtured me, and headed to Korea in hopes of a new glass ceiling. Raised with the culture, Korea seemed familiar enough to learn new recipes at the expense of only a couple burns, but my first few months were exceedingly humbling.
Korea was more like an industrial kitchen with infinite burners and nobody to tend to my wounds. My frailty of the language was the first of my hardships. Filling out paperwork produced many judgemental stares as I struggled to write my own address, and conversations became games of deciphering my "Konglish". Other simple tasks, like reading a map, became a challenge too. However, feeling incompetent only created more opportunities for me to challenge myself. Every embarrassment aided my growth, but conquering the physical challenges only made room for mental ones.
Being Korean-American, I imagined entering Korea to feel like a reunion, but I didn't fit in. There was no room for America's southern hospitality in the bustling city of Seoul. I lived sardined in subway cars and crammed into corners of busy rooms, still feeling utterly alone. It seemed harder to find meaningful connections as an adult, so I refused to sit in the corner. I eventually reached the center of each busy room by conforming to other people's standards of beauty and societal values, but instead of a spotlight, I just disappeared into the crowd. Assimilating, forcing one-sided relationships and avoiding rejection made every reach over the stove result in third-degree burns all over my self-image. In order to heal, I began to prioritize my own values, and once my company felt like enough, meaningful connections followed naturally. I believe spending my emerging adult years in Korea was fundamental in shaping how I view adversity and better care for myself. The endless burners of Korea appeared less daunting when I looked at them individually. Igniting one was my decision to seize an opportunity and every burn I chose to learn from was me presenting the flames a shiny pot to dance with instead. Some burns stung more than others, but every flame helped me create something meaningful. I conquered the risk of moving to Korea without a recipe and let every rejection teach me a new way to cook.
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