Undergraduate / "you guys sing too fast!" j- Short Writing For Common Application [12]

Hello, I've just finished a short writing. I'd appreciate your advice.

"No!" I yelled in silent, "you guys sing too fast!" As the conductor of the class chorus, I was disappointed to find my classmates failed to understand the violent motion of my arms due to nervousness. "Our hard work will turn to be fruitless if they don't slow down" I thought anxiously, but how? It suddenly dawn on me that my expressive face is still spared. I sniffled and winked, but some obviously misunderstood the hints as they return sunny smiles. Something unusual was needed. I stuck out my tongue, showed my teeth and yelled "slow down" silently with exaggeratedly mouth motion. Fortunately, they caught it and soon found the accompaniment. After the competition, girls secretly tell me never to do it again, for those expressions were no cute at all. I laughed off their admonishment. I never embarrass about my mobile face, and actually it saved our award.

Well, I think the essay need revise badly, so please give as much criticism as possible. As you can tell I'm no native writer, I need you guys' help to make it sounds more natrual. I'm not sure about the topic. Can it show my identity? I'm not sure. THX a lot~

Undergraduate / Common App Main Essay, On Love [4]

Prompt,Comman Application main essay.
Influencial Person.

I haven't thought of a good title for it. May be someone can help me.
Hope for your advice.

When I got home later than schedule, I would expect the plates to be empty. She would eat everything delicious and left me only porridge. When I handed her homework asking her to look through, she would turn me down. I explained if my teacher found mistakes, I wouldn't get any awards. She shrugged and said it's not her business.

I never really understood my mother's love when I was young.
A boy bullied me. I begged her to fight for me with tearing eyes. She didn't comfort me, but pointing at the wooden broom in the corner of the room and suggested that I should equip myself. I was angry at her, but I had no choice. Broom in hand, I made the boy run to his mom crying for rescue. Mother was so happy that she rewarded me with a big box of chocolate.

When I skated up a slope in my new skating shoes, I fell and both of my knees were bleeding. I shouted for help, but she stuck at the top of the slope waiting for me with open arms. I got off my skating shoes, stood up and went to her with bitter pain. She took me in arms with a big smile. Mother never minds how many times I fell down.

She never sent me to ping-pang class. She thought I could walk myself. She never washed my sweaty Taekwondo clothes. She never accompanies me playing the piano. I learned to ride the bike with my friend's help. I lived at my uncle's for summer and she only called me twice in two months.

She played her role as a mother in her own way. I finally realized how dedicated she is when I grew older. She chose to resist the temptation of soap opera every night when I labor on an instrument. She wants her child to think that everybody in the family is working but entertaining. (Her job is relaxing and she doesn't really have work to do in the evenings) She scarcely offered any help when I'm learning a new sport, but she offers me with interesting sports equipments. She would run around the city, made a dozen phone calls, just to buy me the first monocycle in the neighborhood. She would send me away to have fun and not bother her child with calls. She remained silence waiting for my calls and never shared her worries. She passed on her wisdom of love in a silence way. She would offer her encouragement and life philosophy in a broom, but words. She managed to let me learn from practice, but preach. I went through my rebellious stage maintaining close relationship with her. She is the one standing along side my road watching me running with love, not the one holding my hands trying to guide me, but her guidance is always with me, only harder to perceive.

The older I grew, the more I can understand about my mother's unique way of love. Despite all the wisdom she intended to teach me, I learned one extra thing--the way of love.

I think the topic is a little bit old, but I've tried my best to write it.

Undergraduate / Six-Minute Eternity - Common Application Main Essay, The Hand In Darkness [9]

Hello everybody, I've come back with a new thread. I'm not sure about the topic,yet. A little off, maybe. I hope you like it. Criticism is appreciated~

Six-Minute Eternity

I was walking alone on a country lane, as moon was my only company. Old cramped buildings lined up on both sides in silence, casting strange shadows onto the remote road. Late January wind was determined to display his power in the last days of the winter, bringing vague dog barks and intermittent strange cock crows from a distance. Old country smell haunted in my nostrils. I quickened my steps. When sunlight abandoned this community, my gallant action, coming to an outlying clinic alone, proved to be not enjoyable at all.

It was bad luck to get a 102℉ fever right before the final exam. Actually, when teachers mentioned the importance of a healthy body, my deskmate always added "as strong as ## is" with a giggle. Running cross-country and playing ping-pong, my name is a synonym of healthy in my class. However, three days after my fun-loving deskmate got a fever, my defense line unexpectedly collapsed. Our boarding school clinic was unable to provide a transfusion, so the head teacher suggested my parents sending me to a doctor in the city as the school locates in the developing zone which is still quite deserted at present, but I decided to handle it myself. After the afternoon section closed, I went to hunt a nearby clinic.

My returning journey consisted five or six minutes' walking on dark country lanes with a dizzy head, sore eyes and high temperature. Thinking of the heavy schoolwork loaded on my schedule that evening only made me feel worse. All extra curriculum activities on campus ceased on account of the final. Life became monotony before the tests. I missed the feeling when excitement struck me like electric shocks, activating every single cell in my body.

On taking the last turn on the narrow lane, dim lamp light on the main road was visible. A couple was standing at the junction. I quickened my steps to get rid of the unfavorable darkness when suddenly a hand in the darkness grasped my left arm, tightly. Every drop of my blood ceased to flow. I could perceive a tall man in the shadow. I could even feel the vicious look on his face. I knew that I was in trouble. Terror swept my dizzy brain in a split second and in another, I've made my decision. Playing Taekwondo with the hand in darkness wouldn't work. Crying for help would be too risky. The couple twenty meters away would mostly likely to run away and call the police, but that would be too late for me. If it was a gamble, I would wager on my own brain. I yelled out, but not for help. "Hey, ##, ##, I'm here！" I called the first two names came to my mind, as calm and cheerful as possible. The couple was drawn by my voice, bewildered. They must be wondering who I was calling for since there was nobody else around. The hand clutching at my arm loosened a bit. The hand in the darkness was hesitating! My heart palpitated hard--the only chance! I sprang to the couple as fast as I could, waving my arms to keep their attention. That twenty meters, the distance from darkness to brightness, were the fastest I've ever run, longest I've ever known. I embraced the brightness with all my strength. Luckily the criminal didn't take risk chasing me. Dashing all the way back with the freezing January wind, I found myself standing breathlessly in front of the school building, covering in cold sweat, brain spinning, fever gone.

Our campus rested comfortably under the quiet moonlight. Green decorative lamps glimmered in winter grass. Bright light shed through broad glass windows, undisturbed. My classmates were digging knowledge at desk as usual. Looking at their calm eyes and healthy cheeks, I smiled, acquiring a new understanding of the everyday serene life.

Thank you~

Undergraduate / 'headmistress in modern China / Power of Knowledge' - Smith College Supplement [6]

I'm thinking about applying for Smith College under ED plan, and this is the supplement.
Thank you~

1 How did you learn about smith and why apply<100

I first fell in love with Smith at the age of ten, after reading the biography of Xide Xie, a Smith undergraduate who later became the first college headmistress in modern China. I decided to follow my role model's footsteps making myself a woman pioneer in Smith. I'm a young woman looking for the best in American psychology education, and Smith is just the place for me. With inspiring faculties, exceptional research programs, and most importantly the focus on female students, Smith is my DreamWorks.

2 When Smith was founded in 1871, there were few opportunities for woman education. Is women education still relevant now in 2009?<150

One hundred an forty years after Smith was founded; women education is still relevant today. In industrious world, women are subject to gentle inequality, domestic violence and traditional discrimination. Knowledge is power. With higher level of education, women will gain the strength to break the old stereotypes and obtain equal rights in this male-dominated world. In the vast developing world like South Asian and Africa, women education is in desperate need. Destitute families continue to deprive their daughters' schoolings, creating a staggering gender gap and starting a noxious cycle as uneducated mothers are like to take away their girls' opportunities likewise. Offering an illiterate woman an education will allow her to reduce family poverty, reject adverse cultural practices (such as female genital mutilation), avoid HIV infection, nurture her children wisely, and eventually give her children a proper education to start a virtuous circle.

Criticism is welcomed!!!

Undergraduate / Montage--the Four Essences of Cooking [7]

It's an additional essay for common applicaiton.
Criticism is greatly appreciated

Common App: Montage--the Four Essences of Cooking

Scene One

Crack! Crack! The boiling oil suddenly burst into excitement as the freshest chicken pieces tumbled into the waiting wok. The warmth of nicely fried meat hugged me. My dimples deepened. In ten minutes, I would set out on the grand mission to escort my little cousin from kindergarten to share my cooking. I should dive through the high heel-mother crowds in my old sneakers, sprinted across the mini playground, threw open the door and spread my arms. I would be the first "parent" there and made him the proudest child of the day. In ten minutes, the hot spicy diced chickens with peanuts, lying pleasantly on a delicate china plate, were to meet two bouncing smiles. I believe the happiness of cooking lies in share.

Scene Two

Sob. She leaned on the kitchen door, misty eyed, watching me added vinegar to the fried shredded pork I especially cooked for her. "How I wish you would come with me", she signed. I stretched out a smile, "You will make friends with the most prominent students in Singapore." My best friend will set off for the top university in Singapore on a full scholarship soon. We were supposed to go together before I declined the offer. "Singapore is too small a place for you", she shrugged. "No", I answered as I poured more vinegar into the wok, "It's just like cooking. Some love vinegar, others don't. We choose different flavorings to compose our dishes." I lidded the wok, turned around and wiped away her tears. "Four years later, or shorter, when we remove the tops with expectation, I hope we can each find satisfaction on our plates." I know a great cook choose her seasonings with courage.

Scene Three

Chaw, chaw... "Hey, how do you like it?" I asked a girl when the whole class was chewing the desserts I deliberately cooked and brought. "Delicious." Another "Delicious"! The most thrilling fact I found in this rural elementary school during my volunteer as a geography teacher was that these kids tended to give horrible similar answers, as if they were robots under the commend of the same program. Their tones, the official languages they use, the contents they spoke made you think that they were reading through old-fashioned textbooks. However, great cooks are never those who follow every line in a cooking book, they add their creativeness to mix a new harmony. With a determined look, I walked to the dais and brushed away my syllabus. The next class I wouldn't introduce the outer sceneries, instead I would dig the inner treasuries. I guess nothing palatable can be cooked without originality in recipes.

Scene Four

Gabbling. We gathered on the second floor of the dining hall, debating over the school's representation scheme on the opening ceremony of the National MUN tomorrow. One of the ladies just suggested that we could perform stepdance, but immediately two gentlemen jumped up, expecting to kill the plan. It was no doubt a non-traditional idea. Nevertheless, no one was familiar with the skill except the proposed lady. I was to make the decision. Looking around, I saw anticipation as well as worry in my partners eyes. The smell of the dinning hall reminded me of the dozens times I set out to explore new the cooking methods. "We still have eighteen hours to learn tap dance!" I cheerfully claimed, "Everybody here is so bright that we are sure to make it." The third day, our representation photo appeared on the front page of the UN Daily. I deem a great cook is always confident to try.

Life is a like cooking a dish--knowing the value of share before hand, choosing the ingredient bravely when the time comes, adding creativeness to make it special within the process and trying your ideas confidently at all times. These are the four essences of Chinese cooking. These are my living codes.

Undergraduate / Becoming A Tibetan Boy [6]

Hello everybody, I recently decided to change my main essay for comman application to this one. Advice is needed urgently! Thanks..
Here it goes

Becoming a Tibetan Boy

"Lang zo zie lian zong ou zong, gai song la..." A handsome Tibetan boy singing an old ditty proudly looked around as if admiring the snowy wonderland. Five steps away, a Tibetan girl dressed in a delicate green robe sneaked onto the stage, adoring her hero from a secret corner. The hall murmured in bewilderment. There was no Tibetan boy studying in our school. Who on earth played the Tibetan boy? Yes. It's me.

My story began with a card and a bag of candies I foisted into Drolma's desk. "Friendship means share. I hope we can have a sweet start with these handmade candies." Anyone can tell that Drolma is different by a single glance. Her rough tanned skin, curly brown hair, and enormous dark eyes all give away her Tibetan identity. Being the only Tibetan in class, Drolma spent most of the day savoring her inner world. Han students treated her like dealing with a giant panda, with respect but no intimacy. I felt sorry for her. A teenage girl far away form home must need a local friend's support no matter how different their background and belief are. I stepped forward to look for friendship. The following day, I discovered some Tibetan black beans in my desk.

I broke into the Tibetan clan. Sitting among the Tibetan girls' chats can be very educational, as I soon learned their belief and taboos. I became their tour guide, shopping deputy (since Tibetans live on campus only) and part-time schoolwork tutor. In return, they taught me basic Tibetan and readily accepted my English Corner invitation. Like the Yellow River breaks through numerous mountains to connect Tibet and Shanlan, the friendship between Tibetan and Han can be free from cultural differences, religious distinctions and political disputes. At the end of the semester, I got a bracelet Drolma prayed from the Tibetan Holy Temple, the certification of our friendship

As the New Year celebration drawing near, my Tibetan friends busily planed to perform an ancient plateau legend, a checkered love story between a peasant's boy and a noble girl. Nevertheless, all Tibetan students on campus were girls. Who were to play the boy? Why not Yuting? Me? I was completely thrown into astonishment. I'm not Tibetan, neither am I a boy. Acting male parts, such as the most handsome man in ancient China, the considerate boyfriend and even the almighty Ultraman, is my specialty, but a boy who would dance and sing in Tibetan? Six pairs of clear eyes gazed at me in anticipation. I bit my lips, smiled and took the challenge. It would be immensely entertaining to play a Tibetan Boy, but most importantly, I'm responsible of helping my friends make a successful show. It proved that digging deep into the mystic Tibetan culture with enthusiastic natives around was truly appealing. The silvern melodies, the vibrant robes, the waving sleeves and the gentle steps brought me into an untapped poetic world laid far away on the mystic Qinghai-Xizang Plateau. In the vocal and physical treasure drifted down the primal Tibet, an invisible belt tied my Tibetan friends and me tightly together.

Our performance was a brilliant hit. Han students were fascinated by the beautiful legend, the picturesque finery, and the abstruse Tibetan culture. Always looking for an opportunity to make a closer connection between Hans and Tibetans, I founded the Tibetan&Han Culture Club with the help of my friends. We posted posters all over the campus. Guess what was on our posters? A comic drawing of The Tibetan Boy by my dearest friends.