Undergraduate / USC Essay: Not So Fun Water Slide. [5]

I don't think I will meet the Dec. 1 deadline.
Please help with grammar and comment on content.
Where do you get bored? Where do you get confused? What do you want to know more about?
Anything will help.
Thank you!

Prompt:

USC's speaker series "What Matters to Me and Why" asks faculty and staff to reflect on their values, beliefs, and motivations. Presenters talk about choices they have made, difficulties encountered, and commitments solidified. Write an essay about an event or experience that helped you learn what is important to you and why it is important.

Essay:

The sun blazed on our pale skin as we exited the car and walked bare-foot on top of the rocks that took the place of sand. Looking into the placid waters in front of me, I couldn't help but notice the rapids in the distance. My younger brother broke the awe that I was in by rapidly slipping off his shirt and dashing into the water. He splashed about like a happy child in a tub filled with candy. My uncle took his place below a large rock, laying out a towel to rest on. I, on the other hand, picked up a smooth, flat rock and attempted to skip it. Regardless of how many times I tried, the rock would land in the water, making a "PLUNK" sound and hastily sank to the bottom of the lake.

I looked up from picking suitable rocks to use for skipping and checked on my younger brother to make sure he was safe. I yelled out to him, "James! Don't go towards the stronger currents!" He responded by glaring at me and childishly sticking out his tongue. Since he was born, I had the responsibilities of looking after him. My parents would often be too busy to fully interact with him. Though he was a nuisance, he always knew how to make me smile. I rolled my eyes and watched him carefully as I continued to attempt skipping rocks. "Plunk, plunk, plunk." Rock after rock, try after try, I could not make them skip! As the number of rocks in my hand deteriorated, I looked up to see no younger brother splashing in the water.

My heart beating faster, my skin flushing red, and my eyes searching from side to side, I scanned the area my brother had been in. "Where did he go? I told him not to go in the farther end. That boy is so stupid!" I frantically rushed into the water fully dressed, yelling out his name, "JAMES! JAMES!" Biting on my bottom lip, I looked to my uncle's direction, only to find him not there. So many thoughts rushed through my mind, "What if he's dead? How will mom react? What am I gonna do?" I began to cry without even noticing until afterwards. Streams of hot tears flowed like cascades of a waterfall down into the rushing water.

I had spotted a hand waving and rushed for it without thinking, grabbing a hold of it tightly. A surge of water pushed me down towards the rapids as the hand held on tightly. It was my brother. The gushing water pushed us both as he wrapped his arms around my neck. My brother unintentionally pushed my head down into the water as he tried to find air. My head bobbed up and out of the water momentarily as I gasped for air. The water rushed into my system, causing me to choke. Means of communication was cut-off. All I knew was that we would have to make it to shore somehow. With my brother on top of my back, I jerked my body forward, in attempt to move.

A large current pushed us in the direction of the shore but it had not been enough. My heart was racing but I knew that it was no time to be petrified. The same current that had pushed us to safety carried us back to ruin. My body was more than ready to let out but my mentality and my heart was fighting to keep at it. Again, I lunged my body forward only to be pushed back down. I remained determined and before I knew it, a series of waves pushed us to security. With rocks under my feet, never had I ever been so happy to see the solid earth in front of me.

My brother rolled off my back and onto the shallow surface of the water. Our gazes facing the bright, blue sky, we heaved heavily with our chests rising to the heavens and falling back down to the earth. My heroic antics were only noticed by my equally exhausted brother sprawled beside me. I realized that what I had done was stupid. I put myself in danger and both of us could have died. But if I did not jump in, my brother would have been gone forever. I took the chance. And succeeded.

Undergraduate / Common App: Monkey Children. [2]

Prompt:

I guess it would fall under this one.
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Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.

Essay:

I silently crept into the 5th grade classroom, hoping that I would not disturb the teacher from further instructing the class. Taking slow paces around the room, I observed the elementary school environment.

"Ms. Jennifer! Hi! Hi! Hi!" I winced softly as a ruckus stirred the classroom. The teacher turned around and waved to draw me towards her direction.

"Today, I'm going to let you teach the class." My heart stopped. [My palms gathered sweat and my heart raced to an uneven beat.] What did she just say?

Right then and there, I imagined myself stuttering, the large teacher's addition literature book slipping out of my arms, and beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I uneasily scratched at my locks [head] and nodded accordingly as the teacher gave me directions for the lesson plan.

Normally, I would jump on a new experience like the one that was being offered but when the teacher announced to the classroom that she would be out for a good 30 minutes for an urgent meeting, I realized that I would be the only authority figure in the classroom. The kids saw me as a volunteer, I was their friend and not so much a teacher. I knew for a fact that they would misbehave. Been there, done that, I was in their shoes once, and a substitute's life was hectic. The students sat in their seats obediently as they worked diligently. Oh, I knew these kids, and they were certainly up to no good. As soon as their teacher exited the room and turned the corner, they would be up and out of their seats, yelling like caged monkeys.

I uneasily edged myself to the front of the classroom and smiled awkwardly at the classroom. Before the teacher vanished, I had told myself I could do this and that in reality, I was over exaggerating. I needed to be optimistic, the kids loved me, therefore, they would control themselves. My false assurance had only put me at ease for a few moments. They had sensed my nervousness and my urgency to start the lesson disappointed them.

"Why does your sweatshirt say JenJen on the back of it?" I laughed stiffly and stated simply that it was my nickname. Flipping through the many pages of the book, I could feel my cheeks flush.

"Oh, JenJen! Do you know my sister? She goes to Lincoln too!"
Gasps filled the room as loud whispers broke out.
"Me too! My brother goes there! His name is Darren and he's mean. Hit him for me okay?"
I remember my Teacher Academy (The Teacher Academy is a two-year pathway that engages students who wish to pursue a career in teaching with hands on guidance.) instructor had warned me. "They are naughty, they will try to get you off task by asking you senseless questions. Don't let them." The kids were doing exactly what she said they would do.

I feebly cleared my throat to get the 5th graders attention, but only a few students looked up at me. The laughter and chatter grew louder. My instructor had only said that point, but she had never told me how to deal with off task hooligans. The few students that had looked up brought their finger up to their mouth and 'shh'ed their classmates. Oh how I love the teacher's pets. But it still did not work. They were wary of my distress and only caused more raucous.

"Whenever Ms. Clarke is mad, she yells. So, yell at us!" All of the kids agreed with the child that I deemed the class jokester.

Did the kids just ask for me to yell at them? Wow. They really don't respect me.
Realizing that I was allowing them to do this, I closed my eyes and drew in a few breaths. I placed the oversized book on the table, sat on the stool beside me, and crossed my arms.

"Tell me when you are all ready."
A few moments later, silence. All eyes on me. For some reason, the queasiness in my stomach had disappeared. I followed out with the lesson plan and did what I had to do.

Ms. Clarke walked into the classroom, happy to find that the children were just as they were when she had walked out. What Ms. Clarke doesn't know, won't hurt her.

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What can I do to improve?
Any comments greatly appreciated!
I should probably add more on how this event affected me.
How can I do that? And where?
Muchos Gracias.
<3

Undergraduate / nursing or occupational therapy - Dominican [3]

Prompt: If majoring in nursing or occupational therapy, write on the following topic: Tell us why you would like to major in nursing or occupational therapy and what contributions you see yourself making to the profession.

The little bell placed above the dim, white door sounded every time I entered the fresh scented barbershop. The first thing I would see was the talented barber agilely trimming away hairs upon someone's head. As he picked my eight year old self up from the ground and placed me onto the snug chair, I remember myself demanding a beautiful hair cut.

"Don't worry Little Jen, I'll make you the most gorgeous of them all!" I would giggle, situate myself in the chair, and sit there patiently as strands of my hair fell to the ground. Every month, my mother would bring me to the same barbershop, and each time, I would allow the skilled barber to snip away my messy hair. As years passed, my family had become close friends with the barber and his wife.

As I entered one day, I noticed that the scene had changed and the man I deemed my masterful beautician was no where to be seen. With a distressed expression, his wife stood in his place, fumbling hesitantly with clippers. I sat myself down on the nearby waiting chairs wondering why his wife was cutting hair instead of himself. Finishing her customer's hair, she informed us that her husband had suffered from a stroke. Initially, I thought a stroke would be easy to recover from and that he would be able to resume his expertise. Not until we visited his home a few weeks later was I able to see the immense damage the attack had brought upon the once expert stylist.

Slumped in his recliner, he sat there motionless and unable to greet us. His head did not lift and his gaze remained on the ground. I took a few paces toward him before my mother pulled my arm, holding me from advancing. At that point, I knew something was incredibly different. Something in my heart had changed and for some reason, I knew that this man would never be the same. His wife explained that his whole left side was paralyzed and that he had completely become dependent on those around him to do everyday tasks.

We visited him periodically and each time, his condition did not seem to improve. My parents stayed around for hours, helping around the house and trying to speak with Mr. Zhu. When I asked him pondering questions, he would give a sympathetic glance and nod solemnly.

"Mr. Zhu, can you cut my hair again? Uncle, will you ever get better?" I constantly found myself grabbing his once adept hands and giving it a good shake. I wanted to do something but found that there was nothing I could do or say to make him do what he used to do so beautifully before. The only thing that I could do was let him depend on me like I depended on him to fix my tangled hair.

With this account, I learned the climax and downfall of the human anatomy. My patience, compassion, and love for people is what defines occupational therapy in my world. With confidence, I know that my dedication and reliability will bring those that are impaired and disabled to a whole new stage of life. There's a thin line between just helping and wanting to help. I want to help. Not only did Mr. Zhu make me beautiful, he helped me discover my passion of wanting to help.

I wanted to approach the prompt with a personal story to make it more interesting but I am afraid that it may not actually answer the prompt.

Any suggestions and corrections welcomed.
Thank you!

Undergraduate / Boston University Supplement - Three words; [4]

Essay #1: In an essay of no more than 500 words, please select three words that describe you best and tell us how you will use these qualities/characteristics to contribute fully to the BU community.

With practice three times a week, three hours a day throughout the whole year, dragon boat requires an immense amount of dedication. Upon joining, my initial impression was that the sport was too vigorous and that I could not handle the extremity of the practices. 
"We practice in the rain, wind, and hail. There is no excuse for not coming out unless you're dying in a hospital bed." A chill ran through my entire body upon hearing this. However, something kept me from leaving; it could have been the muscles I was gaining or the surge of excitement I received each time the boat rushed towards the finish line. Ultimately, the bond that formed was the reason I arrived to each practice ready to give all of my efforts. My dedication will guide me in striving and attaining each goal I set at BU.

Like a rapid chain reaction, if one person stops paddling, everyone's will to paddle diminishes, making the boat incredibly heavy. Each race, my muscles become sore and achy, and my body tells me that its had enough by signaling me to place the paddle against the gunnel to quit. My sense of discipline is what urges me to continue until the three glorious words, "let it ride" are spoken by the steersman. Continuing to paddle is beyond enduring the physical pain. Anyone can go through the movements but it takes a strong mentality to put the maximum amount of energy possible into each stroke. Being a disciplined individual has shaped my personality to push and bring myself to new levels of life. At BU, I will seize the opportunities thrown my way and shape them into something great by doing things correctly and in a timely manner. I will persevere through obstacles and overcome temptations of succumbing to do "just enough."

Everyone has the desire to win, but as races pass by, I begin to notice that this desire is only a veneer covering greater things. To desire is to have an inspiration and drive to work harder to give more. I recall my first race being a depressing event due to my boat coming in last. Though all twenty paddlers gave it their all, we could not beat our competitors. Practice resumed and I asked myself what I could do to improve. I corrected my technique by rotating, reaching, and having a stronger top-arm drive for each stroke. As I began speaking up, "Harder! Better! Stronger!" improvement became visible. The boat began to glide swiftly and there would be a surge of water at the head of the boat with each advancing meter. I realize that it is not the desire to win that motivates me, but is the desire to improve. The desire that activates my willpower to augment ensures that all I come upon at Boston University will be done with a fervent attitude and completed to its greatest quality.

I know that I will benefit the BU community just as much as BU will benefit to me. My dedication, discipline, and desire ensures that each undertaking I accept will be accomplished with a clear goal in mind.

word count: 526
davidgoes Edit Delete Move 71.134.246.150
Jan 4, 2010 #16

I have a lot of dialogue involved and it may be a little too much. And maybe it doesn't explain how I'll benefit the BU community well enough. Tell me what you think.

Thanks!