Scholarship / UW Honors/ Good citizenship comes from good scholarship [2]

Good citizenship comes from good scholarship." What does this statement mean to you?

The statement reflects the belief that the more knowledgeable a person is about their surroundings and the society they belong to, the greater constructive impact they will have on these spheres of life. Politics in America, or "who gets what, when and how," is perhaps the most appropriate example of such a concept. If one does not fully understand the depths of the system that provides a foundation for the democratic culture they exist in, the chances of them furnishing any significant or positive influence towards this culture is limited. Voting for the candidates that could potentially run their society, to some citizens, is a civic duty. They believe they have some responsibility in contributing to the system they belong to, which could also dictate many parts of their ways of life. Political efficacy, this very belief in government and one's capability to affect its function, is a consequential step in attaining the understanding required to produce a personal and beneficial impact. On the other hand, a comprehension of the fact that you voting for a particular issue or candidate will ultimately assist or contribute to its cause, is arguably an elementary step to good citizenship. Knowledge and education initiate the mind to think and establish awareness, morality and ethics. One's utilization of these acquired attributes to make reasoned decisions is far more crucial than undertaking a commitment for example, to pick up trash in your neighborhood because it is merely unsightly. Thus, a well-founded rationale behind a personal action, developed from a firm understanding of society, its intricacies, and how this action will affect yourself and primarily others, defines "good citizenship."

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EF

Undergraduate / Calli (Common App. Essay) - Something can fall in a heartbeat. [12]

I am currently thinking about a potential conclusion and a better introductory sentence...

I knew exactly where it was. The photograph that my eyes had glazed over hundreds of times and vaguely memorized. If I shut them, I could see the outline of her and the fennel stem she held in her mouth, tickling my overjoyed face. The most affection I had known from someone who barely knew me. But I would not dare to close my eyes for I was oblivious to the scope of the intensity that this single photo held, laying face up, collecting dust. I would pretend she was my sister. She loved me like I imagined one would. Her caring eyes never flinched. Never wavered in the sincerity they delivered. I was naive to the perfection her unparalleled warmth resembled. I was told, however, that she was not withdrawn in her actions of kindness. At lunch, she would sit with the kids who had no friends. Stretch the boundaries of her heart for those who had never asked to be singled out, mocked, or ridiculed with the unrelenting potency of high school cruelty. The extremity at which this cruelty hits can only be dreamed of by us. But not to Calli. She knew all along.

Nine years ago, Calli went to the same high school I now attend. At my age, she was involved in a tragic drunk driving accident that left her with untreatable injuries. Her friends, distributed among the passenger seats, narrowly escaped the death that consequently smothered Calli's incandescent youth. In a narrative essay mysteriously due the day of her accident, Calli's thoughts clash with my own. She asks if she does what she knows is right, or if her actions comply with the masses. She contemplates the concept of fate. Are we given ultimate control, or is the destiny that have no part in changing already written out? "Could I have always been that strong, or was it just a phase of my weakness?" I now step backwards. It has occurred to me that it would be prodigal, at best, to let another day slip out of the bank of the uncertain amount I have left. Life is what you make it. Opportunity is what slips by while you are marveling at the scope and ramifications of obstacles and failure.

I now have a copy of Calli's essay elegantly taped to the wall in my room next to my computer. Her words inspire me and give her life meaning. We only begin to fathom the preciousness of this life, however, after it is taken from us.

I do not pride myself on our similarities. Instead, I cry at the waste of beauty. Ten years ago, I did not know. At her funeral, I did not know. Even now, I am at the very age she was when she died, and it is inexplicable to the point that my lips could not begin to quiver with movement; the words were not built to be spoken. Maybe when I am old and frail. Maybe I will never comprehend how such an unrelenting force of magnificence came to break and fall in such a heartbeat.

Undergraduate / 'African-American men swayed' - UW Cultural Difference Essay [6]

Prompt: Describe an experience of cultural difference you have observed. What did you learn from it?

Impersonal was the only word that could describe the sensation. Whether it was the general size of the city, the hoards of the teeming population, or the discrete interaction I shared with a speechless taxi driver, the thoughts and emotions of New York appeared unvoiced. Any attempted connections were left unhinged. I could go so far as to theorize that the environment was acting as a drain on the population. Any questions I potentially posed, were questions these working people were too busy to answer. As I wandered through the towering edifices and shrunk beneath the blinding lights and advertisements of this city that would not stop to acknowledge my presence, all I could think was that I must have come from a place far away from here. On our last day, my friend and I chose to rest our weary feet on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum among a small crowd of other tourists. Truthfully, the melody is what brought us in. Four African-American men swayed back and forth, singing beautifully about love to the ears of their intent audience. The concept of music weaving itself between the seams of a seemingly detached society was provided a sense of tranquility. Through the eyes of these men was reserved the message of hope and compassion for humanity. Through their joined voices, I was admitted a passage into the authentic soul of this city that before, impressed me as foreign and far off. The vulnerability I was being exposed to was new and refreshing. Ultimately, it became apparent that even within the crowded confines of this metropolis, people were making an effort to connect across the emotional divide that I frequently encountered on my trip.