Hansaml91
Jan 1, 2009
Undergraduate / Common Application Essay - My Father [2]
My Father
My mother, sisters, brother and I watch the top of the escalator, inspecting each of the passengers as they come down. We don't expect to see him until the crowd of passengers thins out, knowing that he has bought the cheapest seat, sitting at the very back of the airplane, cramped and uncomfortable during the entire 25-hour ride flight from Cheong Won, South Korea to Madison, Wisconsin.
Finally, we see him ascending from the top of the escalator. Our small father, always the same: on his almost-completely bald head sits a worn out, frayed navy cap, the same one he's worn since I was eight. He wears big round glasses which magnify his tired eyes. His 100% cotton button down shirt is tucked into a pair of baggy pants, held around his small waist by a scarred leather belt. When he spots us looking up at him, he breaks into a content but fatigued smile, and waves. The moment he steps off the escalator, my siblings and I run forward, showering him with hugs and kisses. He kisses us back, but is too embarrassed to do more than let our mother peck his cheek.
Our father never ceases to amaze me and my siblings. When we were young, we gasped at his ability to pick up all three of his daughters at once, we admired his stick figures and praised his ability to do a push up. Today, he amazes us with his dedication and loving emails to each of us, mine always beginning with "Dear my prettiest only third daughter", his self published two math textbooks and yearning to learn more math by teaching himself from textbooks by Nobel-prize-winning mathematicians, and his ability to always believe that each of his children could get A's in their math classes. Amazingly, his busy schedule has never stopped our father from the ideals of carpe diem: he takes archery lessons, takes daily walks to the mountains that encompass his one bedroom apartment, and builds model war ships and planes with my brother.
This time his visit will only last a couple weeks, but we're glad for what little time we have with him. It will be four or five long months before we see him again. While he is with us, our father works tirelessly; sorting out bills, fixing the car, shoveling the side walk, even the simple task of washing the dishes. In my own selfish way, I'm always glad for my father's visits. When he is home there's an immediate sense of security and completion within our family. He always manages to take care of us, teaching at three different universities, single-handedly supporting his large family of six, all the while living alone in Korea, separated from his wife and children. When he returns home, he still has the energy to make constant trips to the fridge, making sure each glass of milk never gets below half full, to listen to both my brother's and my violin practices, and to stay up until my sister comes home.
When my father is here, no calculus exam intimidates me: if I hit a wall during my calculus review, he is right across the table, ready to help solve any limits, find any derivatives or evaluate any integrals. He often makes quizzes of his own, and for each problem I get correct, he stars the entire problem with his red crayon and gives me a kiss on the forehead. Even an ocean and two continents never prevents my father from helping us with mathematics. Twice a day, we receive phone calls from him. One in the morning, so he can make sure we all caught our school bus on time, and again in the afternoon at three thirty, right after we return from school. Three thirty in Madison translates to four thirty in the morning in Korea. Each time he buzzes, "Who wants to do math first?" We turn on the computer and webcam to see my blurred father sitting in his office, beaming with excitement at the prospect of teaching us. Every time, he holds a black sharpie and a thick pile of computer paper, eager to draw countless graphs and write innumerable equations, staying as long as it takes for us to understand a problem. Even during my father's weekly visits to escort our ailing grandfather in Seoul, to the local bath house - two hours away by car from his office and computer - he calls us and tries his best to explain thorny math problems over the phone.
Admiring my father, I try to emulate his actions and ideals into aspects of my own life. When I assumed a leadership role in my youth group as an upperclassman, - a group I consider to be much like family - I strive to put in the same dedication to the group that my father shows to my family every day; I put countless hours of energy and thought into lock-ins and events that provide my peers with an opportunity to bond and form life long friendships and mentors. I also try to incorporate and support the ideas and contributions of each member, because I believe that each one them is a leader himself. By creating a home that shares everything, from our deepest concerns to cups and beds, one of the most essential skill that my father helped me develop is to become close with those around me. And I have tried to bring in that aspect of a comfortable environment into my youth group by making the youth group a fun and relaxed place for these kids to come to, especially when many of them who just came from Korea feel so much like foreigners in the US. I aspire for my youth group to become a family, where everyone feels included and can connect and open up to others about their successes and hardships.
The thirteen days fly by, and tomorrow our father will leave for Korea. As our family crowds the dinner table, cracking jokes and gobbling up our mother's famous chicken, I dread the months ahead without him; a quieter home with our stressed mother, and the lonely months he will spend away from his family, eating the university's cafeteria food. However, I am comforted knowing that I will hear his voice and see his face through the webcam the minute he arrives to his office, and be able to hear him say good bye with the usual "I love you, God bless you," each time we get off the phone. I am incredibly grateful for having such a loving father that can serve as a role model for me as I start my new life next fall. I pray that I will be able to reflect the same passion, perseverance, and altruism in every aspect of my own life.
Please read over and edit!
Thanks so much.
My Father
My mother, sisters, brother and I watch the top of the escalator, inspecting each of the passengers as they come down. We don't expect to see him until the crowd of passengers thins out, knowing that he has bought the cheapest seat, sitting at the very back of the airplane, cramped and uncomfortable during the entire 25-hour ride flight from Cheong Won, South Korea to Madison, Wisconsin.
Finally, we see him ascending from the top of the escalator. Our small father, always the same: on his almost-completely bald head sits a worn out, frayed navy cap, the same one he's worn since I was eight. He wears big round glasses which magnify his tired eyes. His 100% cotton button down shirt is tucked into a pair of baggy pants, held around his small waist by a scarred leather belt. When he spots us looking up at him, he breaks into a content but fatigued smile, and waves. The moment he steps off the escalator, my siblings and I run forward, showering him with hugs and kisses. He kisses us back, but is too embarrassed to do more than let our mother peck his cheek.
Our father never ceases to amaze me and my siblings. When we were young, we gasped at his ability to pick up all three of his daughters at once, we admired his stick figures and praised his ability to do a push up. Today, he amazes us with his dedication and loving emails to each of us, mine always beginning with "Dear my prettiest only third daughter", his self published two math textbooks and yearning to learn more math by teaching himself from textbooks by Nobel-prize-winning mathematicians, and his ability to always believe that each of his children could get A's in their math classes. Amazingly, his busy schedule has never stopped our father from the ideals of carpe diem: he takes archery lessons, takes daily walks to the mountains that encompass his one bedroom apartment, and builds model war ships and planes with my brother.
This time his visit will only last a couple weeks, but we're glad for what little time we have with him. It will be four or five long months before we see him again. While he is with us, our father works tirelessly; sorting out bills, fixing the car, shoveling the side walk, even the simple task of washing the dishes. In my own selfish way, I'm always glad for my father's visits. When he is home there's an immediate sense of security and completion within our family. He always manages to take care of us, teaching at three different universities, single-handedly supporting his large family of six, all the while living alone in Korea, separated from his wife and children. When he returns home, he still has the energy to make constant trips to the fridge, making sure each glass of milk never gets below half full, to listen to both my brother's and my violin practices, and to stay up until my sister comes home.
When my father is here, no calculus exam intimidates me: if I hit a wall during my calculus review, he is right across the table, ready to help solve any limits, find any derivatives or evaluate any integrals. He often makes quizzes of his own, and for each problem I get correct, he stars the entire problem with his red crayon and gives me a kiss on the forehead. Even an ocean and two continents never prevents my father from helping us with mathematics. Twice a day, we receive phone calls from him. One in the morning, so he can make sure we all caught our school bus on time, and again in the afternoon at three thirty, right after we return from school. Three thirty in Madison translates to four thirty in the morning in Korea. Each time he buzzes, "Who wants to do math first?" We turn on the computer and webcam to see my blurred father sitting in his office, beaming with excitement at the prospect of teaching us. Every time, he holds a black sharpie and a thick pile of computer paper, eager to draw countless graphs and write innumerable equations, staying as long as it takes for us to understand a problem. Even during my father's weekly visits to escort our ailing grandfather in Seoul, to the local bath house - two hours away by car from his office and computer - he calls us and tries his best to explain thorny math problems over the phone.
Admiring my father, I try to emulate his actions and ideals into aspects of my own life. When I assumed a leadership role in my youth group as an upperclassman, - a group I consider to be much like family - I strive to put in the same dedication to the group that my father shows to my family every day; I put countless hours of energy and thought into lock-ins and events that provide my peers with an opportunity to bond and form life long friendships and mentors. I also try to incorporate and support the ideas and contributions of each member, because I believe that each one them is a leader himself. By creating a home that shares everything, from our deepest concerns to cups and beds, one of the most essential skill that my father helped me develop is to become close with those around me. And I have tried to bring in that aspect of a comfortable environment into my youth group by making the youth group a fun and relaxed place for these kids to come to, especially when many of them who just came from Korea feel so much like foreigners in the US. I aspire for my youth group to become a family, where everyone feels included and can connect and open up to others about their successes and hardships.
The thirteen days fly by, and tomorrow our father will leave for Korea. As our family crowds the dinner table, cracking jokes and gobbling up our mother's famous chicken, I dread the months ahead without him; a quieter home with our stressed mother, and the lonely months he will spend away from his family, eating the university's cafeteria food. However, I am comforted knowing that I will hear his voice and see his face through the webcam the minute he arrives to his office, and be able to hear him say good bye with the usual "I love you, God bless you," each time we get off the phone. I am incredibly grateful for having such a loving father that can serve as a role model for me as I start my new life next fall. I pray that I will be able to reflect the same passion, perseverance, and altruism in every aspect of my own life.
Please read over and edit!
Thanks so much.