Undergraduate / "My Inspiration" - Common App Essay critique [4]

"You will never be like her. Stop trying so hard."

I wanted to scream "NO! That's not true!" But I couldn't. Because it was true. Undeniably true.

Every sob shuddered through my body, wrenching, twisting my heart, and revealed-revealed the ME that I had tried so hard to conceal, to enshroud, to make unknown.

The ME that desired, with every ounce of capability and skill, to become someday on par with Her. Oh, how naïve I was to even dream of someday surpassing Her.

Each year, it became harder and harder to mend the cracks of my skin, my eyes, my mind. They all wanted to be just as good as Her. As a once-freshly painted house becomes aged and decrepit, its paint begins to crack and flake off, revealing its bare bone wood. Like paint flaking off wood, my outer layer was cracking and splintering, showing my unstable and jealous flesh, and I could no longer repaint myself.

This year, at Carnegie Hall, I received an award, with several hundred others. The Scholastic Art and Writing Award. But what made it painfully special was that You were there with me.

When You introduced this competition to me, and said breezily, "I probably wouldn't be entering", I tried to hide my joy at such a golden opportunity. An opportunity, as bashful as the thought was, for me to finally shine without competition.

When time came for the results to be announced, I scrolled down straight to the S's. My heart was pushing itself out of my chest, my fingers were trembling uncontrollably. Nearer and nearer. So close. Waiting to see those letters, EUN "Elise" SON, in crisp black ink.

I saw my name all right, in indelible black ink. The ink said: One row dedicated to me. And right above, two rows dedicated to You. Two pieces. Two is greater than one. I had failed myself.

Again and again, the same process repeated itself. Every scholarship I received, You received an amount greater. Every award I strove to obtain, it fell onto Your lap. So easily.

All I could do was suppress my envious green self.

I don't remember when I realized that this day would come. The day that I had to set myself down and say, "You will never be as good as Her." Maybe it came too late. Maybe it would've been better if I had figured it out earlier, and wholly avoided the frustration of attempting and ultimately failing.

Maybe it would've been better.

But maybe, maybe I wouldn't have tried so hard. Tried so damn hard, to, for at least one second, be the Smarter One, or the More Talented One. Or even the Prettier One with More Boyfriends.

Without you, I would've happily wallowed in my own blight of ignorance. I would've been contented with my mediocre self. I would have forgotten that I need to work my ass off to at least be on your level.

I would've never tried if it weren't for you.

Thanks sis

I love you.

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Side Note: Thank you so much for taking time to read my essay. I appreciate each and every critique and hope that you will critique my essay with a firm hand. Please note any grammatical and especially transition issues, since I feel like I am jumping from topic to topic too quickly. Also, although this is a personal essay, I feel like I've been TOO personal and mopey and need to talk more about my accomplishments or what I've done, etc. (oh and should I not cuss at the end? Is it inappropro? lol)

Anyways, thank you for your time and consideration. I am forever grateful for any help and critiques. Thank you again.

p.s. Topic: Write an essay in which you tell us about someone who has made an impact on your life and explain how and why this person is important to you.

Undergraduate / 'assistant teacher for SAT Math voluneering' - UT Austin Topic B: issue of importance [3]

Choose an issue of importance to you-the issue could be personal, school related, local, political, or international in scope-and write an essay in which you explain the significance of that issue to yourself, your family, your community, or your generation. (I chose personal)

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I always feel ambivalent about my Saturdays. I resent it because I have to wake up early, even on a weekend, but always look forward to it because of what that day holds for me. I volunteer as an assistant teacher for SAT Math at a program called E.G.A., or Ethnic Group Academy. This is an outside of school program that is geared specifically toward refugee children from all over the world, including Nepal, Myanmar, and Ivory Coast, who have fled from religious persecution and political strife in their home countries.

I first began EGA as an assistant teacher in Arts & Crafts about two years ago-and fell in love with the whole program on day one. The students were always eager to learn and eager to talk, especially exalting in the wonders and opportunities of the United States. In their minds, there were no such things as language barriers, for all they needed in order to convey their message was body language and pictures. Soon, EG Academy became my place of solace and joy. I looked forward to seeing my students every week, and I could not stop myself from telling everyone about this wonderful program and tried to encourage others to participate as well.

For the new fall semester, I signed up as an assistant teacher for Arts & Crafts-as I had done in previous years. But due to the large influx of students, especially in core subjects such as math and English, my parents began to hint that it would be beneficial for both me and the program if I switched into SAT Math. But rather than viewing this opportunity in a positive light, I became hesitant, even against agreeing to spend my time teaching a subject that I, myself, felt unsure about. I did not want to stray out of my comfort zone, and felt that I could better spend my Saturdays doing schoolwork rather than participating in what now seemed like a burdensome task.

After much contemplation of my own and persuasion by my parents, I committed myself to become an assistant teacher for SAT math. But as soon as the first Saturday of E.G.A. came around, I began to have cold feet. While reading over the roll sheet, it became obvious that there were several discrepancies between my previous class and current class. In arts and crafts, a majority of the students were children much younger than I; the wide age difference, along with a subject that I thoroughly enjoyed-made my role as a teacher more accessible. But now, my class was full of eleventh and twelfth graders-all high school students who were my peers. The task of teaching seemed even more daunting, and I did not feel ready, or even qualified to attempt such a task. Only the thought of "How in the world am I going to teach these students?" loomed bleakly over my head.

Although I felt guilty for backing out at such a crucial time, I announced to my father, who was also one of the math teachers, that I could not take the role of teaching SAT to a random teenager. How could a child herself teach another child? But rather than accepting my selfish request, he uncertainty already expecting a question as an immediate response, my father had an answer ready for me-an answer that stumped any further questions and truly struck a note in my heart.

He said that the most important aspect of being a teacher was not my age, experience, or even intelligence, but the stability that I gave to the students' lives.

When my father said those exact words, he knew the impact that they would cause. He knew that they would bring memories of a similar experience-memories from what seemed like yesterday, but were almost a decade old. Memories that reminded me of when our family first moved to America, and we did not have a stable figure to help guide the way. Memories that remembered when a hand finally reached out to steady us, and all we could do was frantically grab it and hold on for dear life.

Those were the memories that gave me the strength to meet my students and introduce myself as their teacher. They allowed me to see their beaming faces as they slowly figured out a problem by themselves, or hear their frustration when they could not understand the explanation to a question. They gave me an opportunity to learn about their lives before America, and comfort them when they worried for their family and friends at home.

When I look back to only a few months ago, I was so ambivalent, so afraid of my own insecurities that I almost deprived myself of meeting such extraordinary students. Now, EGA's fall semester is almost complete and I am reluctant to say goodbye. Words cannot describe the joy that they have engendered in me, and I cannot thank them enough for allowing me, a mere student, to be a part of their lives. I am already looking forward to seeing them next semester in the spring, where I promise to come back as a better, more learned teacher who will read a little bit slower and speak a little bit louder.

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Thank you so much for reading. I will gladly take any harsh critiques (please) and revisions. I thought that the prompt could be spun different ways, but I am not sure if this is what they want. Thank you again!!!

Undergraduate / AMHERST SUP- Achievement more satisfying because of obstacles surmounted/ "Struggle" [2]

Thank you for taking time to read my essay (:

PROMPT: "Difficulty need not foreshadow despair or defeat. Rather achievement can be all the more satisfying because of obstacles surmounted."

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I was born in a place where everything was a struggle-a struggle driven by the force of money, a desire for economic prosperity. But this was often a fruitless struggle, for much of one's life was predetermined by one's birth. There were no stories like The American Dream, where a common man could earn his wealth through hard work. Rather, it was a vicious cycle, where low-income parents could not afford to send their children to the best schools and pay for extra courses-in turn providing them only a mediocre education and immersing them in a never-ending ocean of economic struggles.

Amidst that fight, my parents decided to travel a different route-to take a chance and start a new life in America. But achieving such aspirations was difficult. Although the U.S. provided many possibilities, the road that led to these dreams were tumultuous. Every step of the way brought forth obstacles of a new culture, a new language, and the fact that there was nobody to guide us along this path forced us to continue on alone.

As I reflect back on such memories, there are things which are most clearly embedded in my mind. From elementary school at my hometown, where I enviously watched my friends go to piano or English class, from the private Christian middle school where I was initially rejected due the fear that I would not be able to achieve the standards of an American-born student, to now, where I am applying to schools that I would have never dreamed of, I can see how such obstacles have affected my current self. The child who could not afford to take extracurricular activities heightened her desire to not only excel in schoolwork but to expand her capacities into art and music. The teenager who was judged by her location of birth and struggle with a new language lit fire to her heart the injustices that immigrants still face today, and created her desire to relieve such burdens. The legal adult who is applying to outlets that will further her aspirations has given herself a moment to reflect back on these obstacles-and realize that they were merely catalysts to achieving her highest potential.

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Thank you for reading and revising my essay. My problem is word limit (300!)/condensing essay & connecting the first and second paragraph. I can't think of a transition from one thought to another. Please help!!!! Thank you so much again (: