community
Oct 6, 2014
Undergraduate / "A dreamer" - Personal essay about directions for the future [11]
The below is my drafted essay for the common app. I hope you can provide me with corrections, and ideas for its improvement.
It is 750words (100words over limit), so please point out things that I can delete!
Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
They looked at me with surprise, lips trembling, grasping for words to say. I knew this would happen. They did not believe me, again. But, it is understandable. If I were they, I would also highly doubt what I hear. How could it for a boy who model-walks down the hall with a contagious laughter go through such traumatic experience? I know It is hard to believe. But that is what happened: I was bullied, and that changed me forever.
At the age of 9, I came to China with dream and hope. Then I, a third grader and a foreigner to the environment, was bullied and treated with dismay. Just because I was a bit obese and had a high pitched voice, and only because I was a shy third culture kid, I was treated with no respect or manners. Starting from first day of school, no one bothered to say hi or even talk to me. When I approached them, they would push me away and give me a stare that still gives me a chill. In the classroom, they ripped my books and threw my homework away. In the dorm, they punched me with joy as if I was a sandbag. In the cafeteria, they poured soup on me as if I was the waste-bin.
However, as the eldest kid who did not want to make his parents worry, I never told my family what really happened in school. Everyday I would get back to my house with a big smile on my face, trying my best to look satisfied and exultant. It was like a sad one-man show with no audience that continued for 3 years without a day of rest. My desperate protests to the teachers, who valued connections with the Chinese parents, were ignored and thrown aside, while my act of vengeance to the bullies resulted to a public humiliation: the teacher slapped me in front of the students and told me, the very victim of bullying, to apologize.
I could have shouted or slammed everything in rage. But, I did not; I was too scared. I followed his order, because I knew, to the others, my rights, and my voice were trifling. I stayed low, because I knew I was just a cowardice lonely boy against the rest of the community.
But I never lost hope, even when I transferred and faced more ignorance and discrimination. The Asians ostracized me for my nationality, while the others called me "pig" or "monster" for my obese body and high-pitched voice. Suppressed, and hurt, I reached out for help. I prayed everyday, every week, waiting for a miracle to come. I talked to every single adult, including teachers, and counselors, hoping they would be the glimpse of light in my dark tunnel of life. Yet, nothing would change. Every time they would do a class-announcement like "Please treat all your peers nicely", and that was it. No punishments, and no actions. Slowly, my despair transformed itself into the nebulous frustration of waiting, which then concreted into a determination. The determination to make a change. After 4 years, I was tired of acting as if nothing happened when the blue spots on my body increased exponentially. I was tired of crying by myself silently, and was tired of devising up ways of peaceful suicide. I realized with nobody doing anything, change wasn't going to descend from sky like Jesus. I had to be the change-maker.
I dove myself into schoolwork, kept myself busy, not trying to be recognized or acknowledged by the others, but to work to become someone who can make a change. Having never stopped to take a rest or to look back, I was soon surrounded by people who accepted me for who I am, and who appreciated or even revered me for what I do. If asked upon, bullying is not what I would like to experience again. Nevertheless, ironically, I am grateful that it has happened. The experience has crudely peeled my eggshell of vulnerability, and has given me an insurmountable armor made of scars and blood. It kept me living everyday to my full potential, allowing me to find happiness in every corner of my life. Most importantly, It has given me a direction. A ambitious dream of becoming an international leader who utilizes his knowledge and abilities to make progress for the international community. Someone needs to hear and act upon the cries of the bullied, and that will be me.
The below is my drafted essay for the common app. I hope you can provide me with corrections, and ideas for its improvement.
It is 750words (100words over limit), so please point out things that I can delete!
Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
They looked at me with surprise, lips trembling, grasping for words to say. I knew this would happen. They did not believe me, again. But, it is understandable. If I were they, I would also highly doubt what I hear. How could it for a boy who model-walks down the hall with a contagious laughter go through such traumatic experience? I know It is hard to believe. But that is what happened: I was bullied, and that changed me forever.
At the age of 9, I came to China with dream and hope. Then I, a third grader and a foreigner to the environment, was bullied and treated with dismay. Just because I was a bit obese and had a high pitched voice, and only because I was a shy third culture kid, I was treated with no respect or manners. Starting from first day of school, no one bothered to say hi or even talk to me. When I approached them, they would push me away and give me a stare that still gives me a chill. In the classroom, they ripped my books and threw my homework away. In the dorm, they punched me with joy as if I was a sandbag. In the cafeteria, they poured soup on me as if I was the waste-bin.
However, as the eldest kid who did not want to make his parents worry, I never told my family what really happened in school. Everyday I would get back to my house with a big smile on my face, trying my best to look satisfied and exultant. It was like a sad one-man show with no audience that continued for 3 years without a day of rest. My desperate protests to the teachers, who valued connections with the Chinese parents, were ignored and thrown aside, while my act of vengeance to the bullies resulted to a public humiliation: the teacher slapped me in front of the students and told me, the very victim of bullying, to apologize.
I could have shouted or slammed everything in rage. But, I did not; I was too scared. I followed his order, because I knew, to the others, my rights, and my voice were trifling. I stayed low, because I knew I was just a cowardice lonely boy against the rest of the community.
But I never lost hope, even when I transferred and faced more ignorance and discrimination. The Asians ostracized me for my nationality, while the others called me "pig" or "monster" for my obese body and high-pitched voice. Suppressed, and hurt, I reached out for help. I prayed everyday, every week, waiting for a miracle to come. I talked to every single adult, including teachers, and counselors, hoping they would be the glimpse of light in my dark tunnel of life. Yet, nothing would change. Every time they would do a class-announcement like "Please treat all your peers nicely", and that was it. No punishments, and no actions. Slowly, my despair transformed itself into the nebulous frustration of waiting, which then concreted into a determination. The determination to make a change. After 4 years, I was tired of acting as if nothing happened when the blue spots on my body increased exponentially. I was tired of crying by myself silently, and was tired of devising up ways of peaceful suicide. I realized with nobody doing anything, change wasn't going to descend from sky like Jesus. I had to be the change-maker.
I dove myself into schoolwork, kept myself busy, not trying to be recognized or acknowledged by the others, but to work to become someone who can make a change. Having never stopped to take a rest or to look back, I was soon surrounded by people who accepted me for who I am, and who appreciated or even revered me for what I do. If asked upon, bullying is not what I would like to experience again. Nevertheless, ironically, I am grateful that it has happened. The experience has crudely peeled my eggshell of vulnerability, and has given me an insurmountable armor made of scars and blood. It kept me living everyday to my full potential, allowing me to find happiness in every corner of my life. Most importantly, It has given me a direction. A ambitious dream of becoming an international leader who utilizes his knowledge and abilities to make progress for the international community. Someone needs to hear and act upon the cries of the bullied, and that will be me.