Undergraduate / '24-hour trip from America to Syria' someone who impacted my life [3]

Can someone please revise my essay?
Any input would be greatly appreciated.
The assignment is to write an essay about someone that has impacted your life and explain why and how this person is important to you.

Thank you!

"We are finally here!" I thought as my family and I stepped out of the airport. We had just finished our 24-hour trip from America to Syria. I could smell fresh Kabab in the air. My mom bought me one; I had the biggest smile on my face when I bit into the delicious Middle Eastern cuisine. We went into a taxi. One hour later, I was reunited with the most important person of my life: my grandmother.

I ran up to my grandmother to hug her! "Hey! How have you been?" "I've been great. What about you?" While we were filling each other in on our lives, I suddenly heard glass shattering. I ran out to see what it was, and it was my new iPhone on the floor broken. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I was playing with it, and I accidentally dropped it." I picked up my phone to see if somehow it wasn't broken, but unfortunately it was. "Noor! I'm going to kill you!" I shouted. "What's going on!" shouted my grandmother. "She broke my new phone! I hate my life!" I shouted. My grandmother chuckled. "Why are you laughing? It's not funny!" "American first world problems" she whispered as she shook her head. "Huh?"

This is when my grandmother explained to me how pathetic our problems of this generation are. "You know what my problems were when I was your age? Did I have enough food to survive? Where can I get money to buy food and water? Will the military bomb my city tomorrow? Is this small pox going to kill me? Is childbirth going to kill me?" The list went on and on. "When I was your age, my biggest fear was if I would live to see another day. You should be thankful for the life you have." This is one of the many valuable lessons my grandmother has taught me.

A couple of weeks later, my grandmother and I were talking about my future. I told my grandmother how I wanted to be a doctor, but also that I wasn't sure if I would get into medical school. I remember she said, "if you really want to be a doctor, you'll become a doctor. You can do anything you set your heart to. Never give up on your dreams and say "I'm not good enough." You are good enough. Trust me. You can do anything you want to do." With these words, my grandmother has convinced me that I really can do anything I want to do, as long as I try my best. Every time I feel like I'm not good enough, these inspirational words brighten my day. I still use this piece of advice today.

My grandmother has always been there for me. She has always held out a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on. She has stayed by my side through thick and thin, and she has always offered me very good advice. My grandmother has helped shaped who I am today. With her support and advice, my grandmother has truly made a significant impact on my life.

Undergraduate / 'Fighting Racial Stereotypes' about an issue of importance to me [NEW]

Could you revise my essay?
Any feedback or input is very appreciated!

Fighting Racial Stereotypes

It was a typical day-or so I thought. Everyone was reading a book in my English class, when my teacher's phone began to ring. After a couple of minutes on the phone, she began to cry. The class all stared at her. "Everyone, please work on this worksheet. I'll be right back," she whispered as she quickly handed out the worksheet and left the room. What was going on? I was so confused. My classmates all started to ask each other what was going on. I looked at the worksheet and wrote my name at the top. "What's the date?" I asked my friend. "Look at the board," she said. September 11, 2001. Little did I know that this day marked the beginning of a new life filled with discrimination, stereotypes, and struggles to fit in with the rest of the American people.

My mom picked me up from school early. When she picked me up, it looked like she had been crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she insisted nothing was wrong. I decided to just let it go. That night, my mom and I went to Wal-Mart. I love Wal-Mart. I love all the different people I encounter there and, of course, all the free food samples. We walked in, but at once, everyone began to stare at my mom and me. Usually, a few people stare at us since we wear the headscarf, but never this many. I ignored everyone. My mom asked if I could go get some apples. Shortly after that, a woman approached my mom. She began to shout at her. "You damn terrorists! Ya'll think you can bomb our Twin Towers like that and get away with it!? Get the hell out of here and go back to your own damn country!" My mom began to cry with her lips trembling the words "I'm not a terrorist." I turned around. I felt my stomach drop. The apples I just got fell on the floor My hands began to shake. My heart pounded. I felt tears in my eyes. Then, I began to feel rage and anger. Who was this woman to say this to my mom? I quickly ran to my mom and did something I regret to this day. As I was crying, I angrily shouted, "Stop! Why don't you get the hell out of here, you big meanie!" Of course, I was in 2nd grade. I didn't know what I was saying or doing. I let my emotions take control. "Hey, what's going on here!" the store manager interrupted. The lady stared at me. She softly whispered "whatever" and quickly walked away. The store manager apologized to my mom and me and offered us a discount. It didn't matter. He could give us all the coupons, discounts, and free things in the world. This racist woman had already emotionally scarred my mom and me.

Later that day, after she scolded me for my bad language, my mom explained to me what had happened. She told me about the bombing of the Twin Towers. She told me about al-Qaida, which is the terrorist organization that was responsible for this. "Wait, I don't understand." I said. "What does this have anything to do with you and me?" She went on to explain that al-Qaida is made up of extreme Muslims. At that point, I was very confused. How could someone that practiced the same religion as me feel it was his duty to god to perform such a horrific act? That is when my mom made it very clear that these Muslims were wrong. She drew a distinct line between those types of Muslims and our type of Muslims. She explained that Islam is a very peaceful religion, and al-Qaida misinterprets the Quran, which clearly states that no one should ever kill innocent people.

One thing people fail to realize is that 9/11 is a tragic day for Muslims as well. On this day, I shed a tear for all the innocent lives lost, for all the families that have lost a loved one, and most importantly, for all the Muslims, who feel they have to struggle to be accepted into part of the fabric that makes up American society.

After this tragic day, many of my mom's friends decided to take off their scarf. They wanted to hide that they were Muslims to avoid the racism and criticism they would have been subjected to. My mom and I are one of the few Muslims that actually stuck to the religion. We continued to wear the scarf and still proudly represent Islam today.

To this day, people discriminate against me. People stare at me and might even shout "terrorist" as I walk by. These people have guns, and they constantly shoot bullets at me. However, I don't make the same mistake I had made ten years ago: respond with rage and anger. Ten years ago, I would have taken out a gun of my own and shot back at them. Instead, I dodge the bullets that people shoot at me. I don't let these bullets touch me-affect me. I learned that if you fight fire with fire, you just get a bigger fire. So, I simply walk away from the situation, feeling sorrow. I feel sorry that these people don't take the time to get to know a person before making hasty judgments. I feel sorry that people lump Islam and terrorism together. I feel sorry that the actions of one wrong Muslim are starting to affect all of the followers of Islam in America.

Today, I don't let stereotypes bring me down. Although I have adjusted to live with people that constantly reiterate these stereotypes, I shouldn't have to live with them in the first place. This is a very important issue that needs to be addressed. At my current school, I have helped MSA (Muslim Student Association) emerge throughout the school. In this club, we tackle these stereotypes in an effort to prove them wrong. I have taken a step to make these stereotypes disappear at a local level and hope to spread true awareness about Islam around the world.

Undergraduate / Essay about my motivation- (topic of choice) [3]

This is for the common application. The prompt is topic of your choice. Any feedback would be very much appreciated!

My Motivation
If someone asks me what my passion is, the answer is easy: medicine. My interest in medicine started when I took my first biology class. While my friends messed around and passed notes during class, I was very interested in the material I was learning. Every day, I was wide-awake during lecture, despite the fact that it was at 8:00 in the morning. Instead of dragging myself to class every morning, I enthusiastically walked to class, excited and ready to learn something new. I enjoyed learning the intricate way in which the organs in the body work together. I found it interesting when I began to learn about neurons and all of the different steps that have to occur for me to feel certain sensations, such as pain from touching a hot stove. I am intrigued by the complexity behind what we consider simple things. For example, moving our fingers seems simple, but in reality, many processes take place inside the body for this contraction to occur. The more I learned, the more I wanted to pursue a degree in medicine.

However, my interest in biology isn't the only thing that has motivated me to study medicine. I want to study medicine so that I can be a doctor one day. I want to make a difference in someone's life. When I visit my parent's homeland, Syria, the sheer poverty of the country takes my breath away. Sometimes, I see sick children sitting on the streets, who can't afford the medical attention they so desperately need. My dream is to become a doctor and return to Syria, where I plan to open a free clinic to change the lives of the impoverished.

Undergraduate / 'Muslims are kind people' - a perspective I will contribute to Rice [4]

The prompt is: The quality of Rice's academic life and the Residential College System are heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What perspective do you feel that you will contribute to life at Rice?

Tell me if I really answered the question; I felt like I was blabbing after a while, lol!

Everyone in my second grade class was reading a book when my teacher's phone began to ring. After a couple of minutes on the phone, tears began to fall from her eyes. The whole class stared. She whispered, "everyone, please work on this worksheet I'll be right back," and left the room. All my classmates were wondering what was going on. I, too, was confused. I looked at the worksheet and wrote my name at the top. "What's the date"" I asked my friend. "Look at the board," she said. September 11, 2011. Little did I know, this day marked the beginning of a new lifestyle filled with discrimination, stereotypes, and struggles to fit in with the rest of the American people.

We got out of school early that day. When my mom picked me up, I could tell she had been crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she insisted it was nothing, s I decided to just let it go. That night, my mom and I went to Wal-Mart. I loved Wal-Mart. I loved all the different people I encounter there and, of course, all the free food samples. We walked in, and at once, everyone began to stare at my mom and me. I am used to a few people staring at us since we wear a hijab, like many other Muslims, but this time was different. This time, scores of people were staring at us. I didn't think much of it. Then, I heard a woman whisper "damn terrorists" behind us. I figured she wasn't talking about my mom and me, so I disregarded the comment. Soon, more and more people were whispering comments like this. Some were hard to catch, while others seemed more obvious. I kept asking my mom why everyone was acting so weird, but she wouldn't answer. As we were getting into the car, somebody drove past us yelling, "Go back to your own damn country, terrorists!" This time, it wasn't a subtle whisper I could shrug off my shoulders. My mom's lips began to tremble. I felt my stomach drop, and my hands started to shake. My heart pounded, and tears filled my eyes. My cheeks turned red. But instead of sadness, I began to feel rage and anger. Who did this woman think she was? My mom had not done anything to her. I then did something I regret to this day. As I was crying, I angrily shouted, "Big meanie!" Of course, I was only in second grade. I didn't know hat I was saying or doing. I had let my emotions take control.

When we got home, my mom explained to me what had happened. She told me about the bombing of the World Trade Center and explained to me what al-Qaida was.

"Wait, I don't understand." I said. "What does this have anything to do with you and me?" She went on to explain that al-Qaida is a radical Muslim organization. At that point, I was very confused. How could someone that practiced the same religion as me feel that it was his duty to God to perform such a horrific action? That is when my mom made it very clear that these Muslims were wrong. She explained that these radical, extremist Muslims were wrong. They were different than us. She explained that Islam is a very peaceful religion, and al-Qaida misinterprets and misrepresents the Quran, which clearly states that no one should ever take an innocent life. One thing people fail to realize is that 9/11 was a tragic day for Muslims as well as the rest of the population. On this day, I shed a tear for all the innocent lives lost, a tear for all the families that lost a loved one, and a

tear for all the Muslims, who would face a new struggle to be accepted by a community that they had been a part of for years.

After this tragic day, many Muslims felt obligated to compensate for a crime they did not even commit. For example, some Muslims decided to take off their scarves to avoid the racism and criticism they would be subjected to. It is upsetting that the actions of one wrong Muslim group are starting to affect all of the followers of Islam in America. I am heartbroken by the fact that these earnest people were placed in a situation that pressured them to deny their own faith to fit into a country we call the melting pot.

Today, I still face discrimination. It has toned down, but people still stare at me and talk about me as I walk by. Some people even have the audacity to ask if I support the acts of Osama Bin Laden. On the night that Bin Laden died, my classmate joked, "sorry about your Uncle Bin." Surprised by the comment, I rolled my eyes and turned away. People like this are constantly shooting hurtful psychological bullets at me. However, I don't make the same mistake I had made ten years ago. I do not respond with rage and anger. Today, I dodge these bullets that people shoot at me. I don't let these bullets wound me-affect me. I am strong enough to handle this ignorance. I do not let their comments affect me. In the great words of Mohandas Gandhi, "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." While these comments hurt, I cannot and do not let them phase me. I've come to learn over the years that it is not what people call me, but what I respond to that defines me as a person.

Today, I don't let stereotypes bring me down, but I do feel sorry for the people who let it cloud their judgment. I have learned not to respond with anger. Today, I speak out. I let them know not only how hateful their message is, but also how ignorant their comments make them seem. I encourage people to keep an open mind, rather than relying on the false portrayals of Islam that they see in the media. Islam is a peaceful religion, and Muslims are kind people. I dream that one day, the world will see Islam and Muslim people the way that I do. I hope to share this story with the students at Rice University, so that I can spread true awareness about Islam to my future colleagues and make life at Rice even more diverse.