Scholarship / Got Milk Scholarship-"Describe how milk has been a part of your life" up to 250 word [3]

Few things in my life are more consistent than milk. My morning begins with milk and three eggs, a high protein breakfast to power me up for my day. After school, I work at an ice cream parlor where scooping a customer milky, mouth watering ice cream...

Few things in my life are more consistent than milk. My morning begins with milk and three eggs, a high protein breakfast to power me up for my day. After school, I work at an ice cream parlor where scooping a customer's milky, mouth watering ice cream is my job. When I return home, my family is almost always out of milk. This calls for a snowy 200 yard walk to the corner store, where Bob, the jovial owner, rings up $3.57 as soon as I enter the door. Small towns learn from habit. With the two percent delight packed safely under one arm, I head home to finish the day properly with my father, munching on chocolate chip cookies. Our nightly indulge is preceded by Nesquick powder, perfectly poured into creamy milk and swirled three times for optimal drinking pleasure.

Sometimes the milk doesn't even end there. I'm lucky enough to live in the Finger Lakes, a land of wineries and Amish. Occasionally my parents and I load into the old Chevy and drive down visit Horace and Annie, an Amish couple that owns a dairy farm. There is nothing quite like bringing a jar home of warm milk, squeezed just minutes before.

Milk is essential to my life. It is my breakfast, my job, my bonding time with my father, and my connection to the community. Hot or cold, skim or whole, plain or chocolate; I've "Got Milk".

Undergraduate / Hurdling taught me to be strong - Talk about an experience or event great impact on u [NEW]

Blood rushes through my veins and my heart pounds wildly, a frantic drummer. "On your mark!" My fingertips press against the track, energy longing for release. "Get Set!" CRACK! My body explodes, propelling me forward to the hurdles. Right, left, right, jump! Panting heavily, my oppenents' breath is hot with competitive fire. My teammates' hands clutch the sideline gate, their knuckles strain over its cold metal as they scream, "Go Emily!" I clear the tenth hurdle, see the finish line close ahead, and taste the victory burning on my tongue. It is a sprint to the finish as I hear the pounding of my opponents' steps behind me like a herd of buffalo, but they are too late. The loudspeaker booms, "The junior champion of the 100 meter hurdles: Emily McDonald!"

Long before I was praised for clearing hurdles on a track, I have been overcoming personal obstacles of all shapes and sizes. When I was fourteen I developed a severe cold and went to my family physician. Because of the expense of medical bills for someone uninsured, it was the first time I had been to the doctor in years. It was at this point, after having a physical, that the doctor told me I had scoliosis.

After diagnosis, my life changed rapidly. I was referred to a spinal specialist at Strong Memorial Hospital. X-rays showed that I had an s-curve; my spine was curved sixty-two degrees on top and curved forty-eight degrees on the bottom, a severe case. I was scheduled for spinal fusion surgery two months later. Long drives, hospital gowns, echocardiograms and nerve testing all became familiar to me. Strong Memorial accepted me as a charity case and they guaranteed care for a year, free of charge. A month before my surgery date, I told my biological mother. My need for surgery, although great, was not enough to appease her fear of its one percent chance of paralysis. She contacted the hospital and threatened to sue if I received the treatment. Because of the threat of a lawsuit, the hospital decided the negatives outweighed the positives of helping me pro-bono and I was denied care. sports, my determination and passion for competition led me to pursue track and field. The

Almost three years later, I still have scoliosis. Despite the pain and the doctors' advice to quit warping of my spine caused the right side of my back to develop complex additional muscle groups. Consequently, my right arm can hyper-extend over my left leg with ease, perfect for clearing a hurdle. Even though my school does not have a track and I must set up hurdles in the parking lot, nothing has stopped me from becoming an all-star Varsity athlete, setting school records, and qualifying for state championships. My physical struggles have given me a sense of determination and inner strength, and shown me that no hurdle, what ever it may be, is too high to overcome.

Writing Feedback / Don't Judge---Story from my life that teaches a moral (for english class) [3]

I was walking down the twisty path at Ithaca College, surrounded by teenagers. It was a week long medical camp at the college called HealthQuest and high schoolers who shared a passion for medicine flocked to the campus. It was on that walk to my next seminar that I first saw Connor Laplant. He was a tall, brown haired guy who was trying to hard to look cool. I saw his baggy knee length shorts, puffy Nike sneakers and fitted grey shirt and I judged him. The thing that most bothered me though was how he walked. He was constantly leaned back and his right foot dragged slightly. I thought it was "swagga" but on a tall, white, guy it looked ridiculous. I was thinking of wise cracks in my head and right before I joked "What are you a gansta today?", something stopped me. A tiny feeling inside said shutup Emily, just shutup. I was confused by it, but I went with my gut and stayed quiet lagged behind in the pack of people.

As we arrived at the Physical Therapy clinic, people shuffled quickly into their seats and I found myself with no one to sit with. The only open spot was next to Connor. Grudgingly I sat down, still feeling like I was plopped next to some wanna-be-seen-it-all before-baggy-pants-wearing-coaster. The kind of person who just rolls through life and goes with the crowd. Boy was I wrong. When we actually started talking, he was surprisingly intellectual, thoughtful, and funny. He had a great smile, easy going laugh, and shared a love of cheesy pickup lines. Connor was great and through the next couple days we became close friends.

It was two days later though, I learned Connor's history. A group of us chose to stay out light in the cool Ithaca air and were seated in a circle on the blacktop, conversing about everything under the moon. It was then Connor told us then four years ago he was in a motorcycle accident. He was riding on a practice track at his home when he got into a crash and suffered a serious head injury. He was airlifted to Syracuse hospital and was in coma for many days. His serious brain injury messed up some of his body functions and they didn't work quite as well as they used too. Hence, why he walked with a slight limp.

Hearing his story made me feel horrible. I thought this just was just trying to be a ganster when really he had a brain injury. All the ideas I had about him were wrong. Don't judge people. You'll most likely be wrong and miss out on a great friend.

** it was a really strong wake up call about not to assume things about ppl but i dont feel my writing is that strong in this piece...help please?

Writing Feedback / "When someone's dancing over a clover, don't slow their step" [3]

This is a vignette I had to write to english class about a story in my life that teaches a lesson. Please provide detailed feedback and I'll do the same for you...

You're Still Lucky...

It was a sunny June afternoon. I was lounging in the grass, soaking up the sun and waiting for the softball team to trickle onto the bus. Beams of warmness kissed my nose and illuminated my smile. As I watched the creamy clouds take shape and dance across the sky, tiny clovers began to tickle my ears. I turned over onto my stomach and let out a childish giggle. With bare feet in the air, my brink pink nails began to search throughout the plush grass for three leaf clovers. I once heard how lucky and rare it was to find one and the summer sun made me curious.

Within seconds my hands picked a clover from the soft earth and I slowly counted the perfect petals. One, two, three! Was it true? Did I actually just find my first three leaf clover? The happiness was overwhelming; I could not believe my luck! Switching my tanned legs to Indian position, I was in full explorer mode and excited to test my new found serendipity. This time I eagerly grabber a full handful of clovers. The first one I picked up had one, two, three petals, and the next one, and the next! I had grabbed an entire handful three leaf clovers. This was far too much too take; it was simply magic.

I threw the fantastic plants in the air and jumped up. I was the luckiest girl in the whole wide world and cartwheels were necessary to celebrate. I took a quick skip for momentum then twirled myself into a whirlwind of flipping. The ground, the sky, the ground, the sky. The world looked loopy upside-down and I flopped down to rest. As my senses came back to me, I had a realization. What is the fun in finding millions of three leaf clovers, if I have no one to share my success with?! With new found jubilance I snatched handfuls of the clovers and ran onto the bus.

"Priscilla! Priscilla," I yelled, "Look at how many three leaf clovers I found." I was met with a perplexed look and slight snickers from my other teammates. No one seemed to be celebrating with me. With kind motherly smile mixed with pity, Priscilla kindly informed me that four leaf clovers were the lucky ones. Three leaf clovers were typical one and anyone could find them.

The bus jerked to a start and my bubbly euphoria was gone. Sinking onto the cracked leather seat, I felt stupid holding the pile of useless plants with petals that had already begun to curl and slowly die. I sat there staring at the imposters and their pathetic three little petals mocked me. Defiant, I clicked open the bus window and it slid down with a bang. "Dumb clovers," I muttered and threw them outside. I slumped back in my musty leather seat and took a nap; my day was ruined. I let a trite cliché drain me of happiness.

My hope is that the tiny clovers danced from my window into the wind and ended up in a field somewhere or someone's lawn. A place where a little girl could run outside, see the clovers and she too could think she was the luckiest girl in the world. And I hope when she ran and told someone that they didn't let her down. I hope they let her keep believing, both in the clover and herself. You make your own luck in life, but if someone is dancing over a clover, don't slow their step.

Undergraduate / Poverty,Cheerleading, NYC, Ice Cream -- My Personal Statement [3]

When I was six, my Mom drove me to the local church. Once inside, a nice lady took us into a room I'd never seen before; it was filled with food. I felt powerful, as my Mom let me pick out whatever I liked. I remember my tiny hands stretching to reach the lime Jell-O and brownie mixes that lined the shelves. As the masses of ravioli cans, pancake mixes, and pineapple rings filled our cart, it seemed like Christmas.

As we left the parking lot, our car stuffed with treasures, I told my Mom how much fun I had and asked if we were coming back soon. She just smiled and kissed my forehead, but I saw a hint of sadness in her face. I didn't know then what I know now. To me, the day was magical. To my Mom, it was our life in poverty.

While living with my Mom, I moved to three different states and changed schools four times. When I was nine, I moved in with my Dad and that change brought stability. I now live across the street from the house where he grew up. The hallways I walk everyday are the same one's my uncles and aunts roamed thirty years ago when my Grandfather was principal. Despite this overwhelming sense of community and family galore, I seldom see my siblings and mother and have lived the majority of my recent childhood as an only child. This isolation has taught me that if I want something in life, it is up to me to get it. I am self- motivated, practical, and independent.

It was in cheerleading that I found my sisters. We are a group of eight girls, committed to the team and to each other, united by our love of the sport. During freshman year, my cheerleading squad wanted to go to a summer camp that would teach us new stunts and formations. I was determined that we attend. I drafted a grant request letter, attached our application, and sent it to Student Council, Sports Boosters, and the Romulus Faculty Association. A few days later, I was informed that the request for eight hundred dollars had been approved. This donation greatly reduced the cost of camp and enabled my teammates and me to enjoy an amazing weekend of collaboration with cheerleaders from all over Upstate NY.

In addition to inspiring me to pursue my goals, the relative solitude of my early childhood has made me practical. If want something, I need to find a way to realize it myself. Last summer, I wanted a job. I rode my bike to Ovid, a town five miles up the hill, and started filling out applications at local stores. The second place I stopped was an ice cream shop called the Village Soft Serve. After an impromptu five minute interview with the boss, I was hired and told to come back that night. Months later, I still spend my weekends riding ten miles a day to make Oreo chip flurries and I love every minute.

Last August, I took a trip to New York City with my grandmother and had a day to myself to explore the city. It was the first time I'd been on my own and I was ecstatic to drink in the sights. I walked to Central Park to see the seals dancing in the water. I saw the polar bears with their snowy paws pressed against the glass. An artist in Central Park drew my portrait, as people crowded around to watch. His tanned, wrinkled hands were marked by decades of art. With my portrait tucked under my arm, I walked confidently towards 42nd Street. I had an ice cream cone in Times Square and sat on the staircase, just feeding off the energy of the city. A girl came up to me, thinking I was a local, and asked me for directions. Elated from fitting in so well, I got on the subway solo for the first time and headed to Wall Street to visit my sister. Walking through the crowd I had an enormous smile on my face, self satisfied to be doing my own thing. I was happy.

I accept my past, embrace my present, and strive to create my own future. In school I have reached to the top of my class, taken the hardest courses available, and excelled in sports. I push myself every day not because I think that is what others expect of me, but because that is me.

this was my personal statment for college. but now im applying for scholarships with it. comments/corrections are very appreciated!!

Scholarship / "A leader must have courage, credibility, and innovation" [6]

PLEASE HELP Im really having trouble on this scholarship essay for the Ron Brown Scholar Program. I feel like I should include specific leaders for examples. This is my first draft...please hack it to pieces! The prompt was what are the most important qualitites a leader must have in todays society. why?...i still have no conclusion...problem....it can be 500 words

To lead is a challenge. It is the courage to stand in front of others and voice your opinions. Those who lead are seen. The ideas they put forth and decisions they make are criticized. No matter how wonderful, talented, or inspiring someone is, taking a chance on greatness causes adversity. Everyone is not a leader. There are those mean to follow, to do what their told, and live safely. There are also those who do. Those people of action are noticed, admired, and respected, but their task of leadership is not successful without a foundation in character. The most important qualities a leader in today's society must possess are courage, credibility, and innovation.

Without taking chances, few things of importance are ever accomplished. The world rewards those who go against the grain and fight. Courage is necessary to do really anything. It takes gusto to stand in front of a boardroom and project new ideas for a company. There is always the chance of rejection and the chance of failure. But to leaders, failure is only inspiration for future successes. They are not afraid to try, but more importantly, they are not afraid to act. The world can not be led by the meek. There must be courage to lead, before it can be done.

Secondly, a leader must be credible. Leaders represent others. The governed body wants to know that their leader is capable of doing what they set out to do. That assurance is based on past experience. Leaders need to show that they have been responsible in the past and done what was assigned to them and more, a track record of excellence. This will ensure peace of mind in those following in the leader's footsteps and further their reputation.

Lastly, innovation is the key to effective leadership. No one wants repetition, dullness, and exhausted concepts. New, vibrant ideas are vital in keeping the world moving forward. To stay stagnant is to die, in both intellect and potential. Ideas do not have to be good ones, but they do have to be present, vocal, and loud. Leaders are leaders for a reason. Their creativity and thinking are different from others. They are pensive, but powerful, and with their knowledge, leaders soar. They consistently challenge established thought and strive to improve both themselves and others.

Writing Feedback / Sex Slavery--Intro to the prompt "problem in america right now" [4]

please help edit! Scene: a Vegas nightclub. A pretty girl, with long brown hair, smoky eyes, and skinny legs poking out from under a cheetah dress is flirting with men old enough to be her father. One man slips a hundred dollar bill into the lace of her bra and with a coy smile, disappears into the back room with her. Forty five minutes later, they reappear. The man nods to the owner, then slips his wedding ring back on and leaves the club. For the prostitute, the night is not over. With disheveled hair and smeared makeup, she finds her way to a new man and is greeted with a harsh hand around her waist and a "How much?" She has as least fifteen clients to get through to make her daily $1,000 quota. Day after day, she has sex with strangers and is forced to give the money to her pimps, the men who brought her to America. Their hopeful promises of a good office job were soon replaced by brutality and insurmountable debt. To repay it, they made her sell her body for sex. She is bound in sex slavery in the United States of America.