babycakes
Dec 31, 2012
Undergraduate / [Fashion Show on Standby] Common App Personal Statement [3]
An expectant silence hung in the air as twenty-nine pairs of eyes followed me to the front of the classroom. I cleared my throat. As the director of my high school's latest fashion show, I was required to give the inaugural greeting. I had waited four years for this day and the truth was, I was still a little nervous. The familiar feeling whisked me back to the time when I first found my place in the show, barely out of my middle school years. Then the memories flooded me as clearly as if they were only made yesterday.
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"Be on standby in one minute!"
Above the thudding electro bass line of the current walk I heard the director's shrill announcement at the doorway to the changing rooms. We had lined up the next models, already poised to grace the stage. Satisfied by what she saw, I watched as she strutted away in her patent leather stilettos with an air of purpose I intensely admired. In three years, perhaps, I would stand in those heels, in front of similar starry-eyed freshmen with a respected voice of authority. But did I have the courage? As a first-timer, I was very much a follower. For now, my place was backstage, with the thirteen other freshmen who had a much better chance at making it than I did. Or so I thought.
"Models! From the top! Let's get this over with so we can all go home."
The gym echoed with a collective sigh. We had practiced for months in advance for tomorrow's big night - my second show and counting. The models were exhausted. Still, they shuffled to their places as I pressed down on the replay button on the soundboard. We all loved the director. His charisma charmed even the most unwilling of us. He was an example of the confident personality I wanted to embody. I imagined myself in our director's place, watching intently from the front of the gym. Every click of the heel, every dip of the shoulder meant something to him. Slowly but surely, they meant something to me too.
"Apprentices! Make sure your models know their walk order. Jana,"
I called, beckoning at a make-up clad student in an aspiring designer's sequined masterpiece, "You're up next." From the corner of my eye I saw the director nod. She was passionate, mature and quick-witted. Her occasional short temper did nothing to stifle our respect for her meticulous work ethic. As I continued to climb the rungs of the committee hierarchy, I saw the unity, the support, the piece from each and every member as part of an imperfect, yet efficient, whole. Still, I saw the fear, exhaustion, and the immense burden of stress that came with leading a production of professional caliber. Was I ready?
---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------
Under the guidance of my past directors, I had grown from a nervous and inexperienced pup to the commanding head of the pack. Years of experience in management positions developed my voice of authority, countless close calls and unexpected setbacks taught me to sustain confidence even in the face of uncertainty, and as my attachment to the show grew, my passion grew with it.
Now, standing before my committee, I remembered all the leaders that had stood here in the past and felt myself become the directors I had once admired. It was my turn, and I was ready.
I'm still working on reducing the number of words. Is it hard to follow? Are the border lines separating past and present unnecessary?
Please be as harsh as possible. All criticism welcome. Thank you!
An expectant silence hung in the air as twenty-nine pairs of eyes followed me to the front of the classroom. I cleared my throat. As the director of my high school's latest fashion show, I was required to give the inaugural greeting. I had waited four years for this day and the truth was, I was still a little nervous. The familiar feeling whisked me back to the time when I first found my place in the show, barely out of my middle school years. Then the memories flooded me as clearly as if they were only made yesterday.
---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------
"Be on standby in one minute!"
Above the thudding electro bass line of the current walk I heard the director's shrill announcement at the doorway to the changing rooms. We had lined up the next models, already poised to grace the stage. Satisfied by what she saw, I watched as she strutted away in her patent leather stilettos with an air of purpose I intensely admired. In three years, perhaps, I would stand in those heels, in front of similar starry-eyed freshmen with a respected voice of authority. But did I have the courage? As a first-timer, I was very much a follower. For now, my place was backstage, with the thirteen other freshmen who had a much better chance at making it than I did. Or so I thought.
"Models! From the top! Let's get this over with so we can all go home."
The gym echoed with a collective sigh. We had practiced for months in advance for tomorrow's big night - my second show and counting. The models were exhausted. Still, they shuffled to their places as I pressed down on the replay button on the soundboard. We all loved the director. His charisma charmed even the most unwilling of us. He was an example of the confident personality I wanted to embody. I imagined myself in our director's place, watching intently from the front of the gym. Every click of the heel, every dip of the shoulder meant something to him. Slowly but surely, they meant something to me too.
"Apprentices! Make sure your models know their walk order. Jana,"
I called, beckoning at a make-up clad student in an aspiring designer's sequined masterpiece, "You're up next." From the corner of my eye I saw the director nod. She was passionate, mature and quick-witted. Her occasional short temper did nothing to stifle our respect for her meticulous work ethic. As I continued to climb the rungs of the committee hierarchy, I saw the unity, the support, the piece from each and every member as part of an imperfect, yet efficient, whole. Still, I saw the fear, exhaustion, and the immense burden of stress that came with leading a production of professional caliber. Was I ready?
---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------
Under the guidance of my past directors, I had grown from a nervous and inexperienced pup to the commanding head of the pack. Years of experience in management positions developed my voice of authority, countless close calls and unexpected setbacks taught me to sustain confidence even in the face of uncertainty, and as my attachment to the show grew, my passion grew with it.
Now, standing before my committee, I remembered all the leaders that had stood here in the past and felt myself become the directors I had once admired. It was my turn, and I was ready.
I'm still working on reducing the number of words. Is it hard to follow? Are the border lines separating past and present unnecessary?
Please be as harsh as possible. All criticism welcome. Thank you!