Undergraduate / Socks, an essential item----Common App Short Answer [2]

Hello, this is the common app short answer, where I have to expand on my extracurricular activities! Please help me edit, thanks in advance!

The Door Store is a store that involves no selling or buying. The Door Store is a place where teenagers that cannot afford clothes come in and can get clothes for free. Although I have only been working at the store for three months, I have learned so much in such little time. I realized how not having basic items such as socks, can really alter everyday life. Together with a group of three other teenagers, we help sort through donations that come in daily and decide whether or not we will hang them up or keep them in the storage area. We help make the store look more presentable, which in return would help teenagers be more comfortable coming in. I feel that helping the store have a more store-like appearance, would really give teenagers a more shopping experience. Just recently, I was taught how to print on t-shirts. These t-shirts would then be sold at The Door Store and all proceedings will be used to run the store.

Undergraduate / The Tenacious Protest--Common App Essay [17]

Hello everyone! Can someone please help me edit my essay? I need any critique possible!
Thanks in advance!

"We want justice!" "Khalistan zindabad!" "Save humanity!" I looked around, feeling accomplished. We were protesting for the Sikh genocide. It was pouring and everyone was tired. But we held on.

I began to truly embrace my Punjabi culture at the age of 12. My dad, fearing that I may lose my culture, began teaching me to write in Punjabi. I was ecstatic. Growing up, I had always envied anyone who was literate in their native tongue. Merely speaking the language was not enough for me. I admired every curve of each Punjabi character. I especially took pleasure in the fact that each character is bonded by a single line on top, to show unity, which in return creates words.

At the age of thirteen, I began to attend Punjabi school, a place for children like me who wanted a better understanding of the Sikh religion. Through this school, I was taught how to read and write in Punjabi. I became active in kabadi (wrestling), basketball and volleyball. I became skilled at playing the harmonium. I was even trained in the basic form of sword fighting, although we used sticks instead of actual swords. It was also through this school that I grasped what the Sikh religion actually means to me. It is the element that gives people a sense of togetherness across many lands. It gives meaning to a life that would otherwise be hopeless. Sikhism became my strength and my value.

It was in Punjabi School that I learned of the 1984 Sikh Genocide. It hurt knowing that the Sikh religion was not accepted in its own country. And the jarring pictures of my fellow people, murdered and tortured, caused much pain. However, not only did the families of those dead loved ones not get any compensation but many Sikhs are still in prisons under false accusations. Yet nothing was being done.

Appalled by this ongoing atrocity, a couple of friends and I began a proposal that we should protest for those in India. I felt that even if we were not physically in India, we could still do our part overseas. Upon research, we found out that there is a yearly protest done in Manhattan. We grew eager and began chatting about what we could do. Kiran, one of the girls, stopped us and pointed at the date. Our expressions darkened. The protest was in two days.

Immediately, some of us began to shelve any idea of actually going. I looked around and saw faces of defeat before the war even started. Before long, many of the girls began bickering with each other. I stared out the window. I could not let this happen. I wanted to support the protest at any cost. I got up from my seat and went to the front of the room. I picked a piece of chalk up and turned around. Everyone had grown quiet, all eyes were on me.

"Does anyone have ideas for some slogans we can use?" I glanced at everyone's faces. "We can incorporate human rights," replied Jitender. Silently thanking her, I turned around and jotted the idea. Twenty minutes later we had completely filled the board with ideas.

Since we had a lot of things to do on the agenda, we distributed roles and got right to work. After receiving the consent from our principal, we began making posters and permission slips for the other youths at the school. Kiran and I set off to create pamphlets.

The day of the protest it rained. However, our purpose was sincere. I looked around; everyone had indescribable joy on their faces. I was glad that I was determined to keep us together because tenacity is an asset. I realized that hard work and team work usually pays off, no matter how hopeless things may get. The whole parade we were all humans on the same side. We chanted the same words over and over. Waheguru Ji ka Khalsa. Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh. God is one. Victory to God.

Undergraduate / My home, The Meaning of Culture [3]

Hello everyone. This is my essay and I need loads of help with any editing that is possible. Also I need help wrapping everything up.

I lounged on my bed, flipping through multiple channels. Sunday afternoons often became tedious with nothing worthy to watch on television. I sighed and gazed around the small apartment.

My home seems even smaller because of the rush of things everywhere. A showcase stands on the side like a lone stranger. In it are my mother's prized possessions: clay and glass figures that stand frozen, awaiting their time of flight. I looked at our only painting, a reproduction of Van Gogh's "Starry Night," bought from the flea market for three dollars. I see a bicycle jammed behind a dresser, which pours forth strong aromas of every kind.

I turned my attention to my dad. My dad sat by the dining table, which was befriended by two chairs. He was skimming through a newspaper in Punjabi, a language I could not read.

I admired every curve of each Punjabi character. I especially took pleasure of the fact that each character is bonded by a single line on top, to show unity, which in return created words.

"Turn off the television and pull up a chair." I glanced at my dad, eager to finally have something to do. I clicked off the television and dragged a chair next to him. My father usually did not have much to say. He never started a conversation with my brother and me. And for almost all my life I had been detached from him because of this lack of communication. Now he held up the newspaper and asked, "Do you know what this says?" When I shook my head, my dad asked, "Do you want to learn?" The question seemed simple enough but I was bursting with excitement. I had always wanted to become literate in Punjabi. Growing up, I had always envied anyone who was literate in their native tongue. Merely speaking the language was not enough for me.

From then on every Sunday became an extensive way of connecting with my dad and my culture. I became increasingly involved with my family, my religion, my culture and my language. And these became the things I never wanted to lose.

At the age of thirteen, I began to attend Saturday and Sunday school. This school was for children like me who wanted a better understanding of the Sikh religion. I learned to read and write in Punjabi. I became active in kabadi (wrestling), basketball and volleyball. I also learned to play the harmonium. I even learned a basic form of sword fighting, but we used sticks instead of actual swords.

Although, I can no longer attend Punjabi School because of age restrictions, I have not stopped interacting with the culture. I have, in fact, lived in the United States for most of my life, but I have chosen not to lose my heritage while adapting to a new one.

Looking back at my thirteen year old self, I am amazed at who I have become. Entering high school, I managed to balance and uphold both, along with school itself. I fueled myself by taking part in countless extracurricular activities, such as taking courses at the American Museum of Natural History.

I feel certain that having this kind of diversity will not only help me adapt to the challenges of college life but it will bring a significant variance to any relationship.