Misletoe
Oct 23, 2011
Undergraduate / 'Our stay in America definitely' - Personal Statement - Diversity [2]
The moment the bus driver hit the brakes, I would leap down, sprint home as fast as humanly possible, hurl in my backpack then jump back outside. My friends would already be waiting, either to challenge me to a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card battle, or to show me another secret nook in the neighborhood. Whenever I was too tired to join them in their mischief, I would just lie on the comfortable meadow opposite our family's apartment, close my eyes, slowly take in the redolence of the tender grass and enjoy the euphonious songs of the orioles.
Life was good when I was studying 3rd grade in Pullman, Washington. Our family's living conditions back then were, to put it mildly, below average: during the first half of our 9-month-stay, we used a flipped-over cardboard box as the dinner table, and had to salvage basic amenities such as a black and white TV or an electric fan from the local laundry room. Yet I never thought of these as anything more than little nuisances. Being able to run freely and enjoy the winds on my cheeks was everything a 8-year-old could ask for.
The day we were to depart back to Vietnam, I vowed under my tears that I would return to the U.S. The education and glamour of America had left so great an impression on me that for a while after returning home, I became progressively dissatisfied with life in Vietnam, though it had remained largely unchanged the one year I was gone. I whined about how teachers in Vietnam forced students to cram mountains of academic trivia, how Vietnamese people could never wait in line properly, how often the traffic rules were disregarded - the list went on and on. I yearned constantly for the day I could return to the "Promised Land".
Yet as the years go by, I chuckle at how ridiculously naïve I have been. Our stay in America definitely wasn't perfect, but I had excessively exalted it simply because it was my first time experiencing such a vastly different culture. I can be nostalgic now and then, but I realize that those cheerfully innocent times are only a remnant of the past. Having been lectured on this topic numerous times, but only recently did I truly acknowledge the beauty of living in the "now".
Though currently drowned in the problems facing every teenager at the threshold of adulthood, I refuse to be swept away by the vicious current. I want to see, to hear, to experience everything I can here in Vietnam, so that when I finally fulfill my 9-year promise, I can confidently step forward without regrets.
Contemplating this, one day I decided to stroll a few miles from my house to the greenest meadow I could find. Under the gentle rays of the afternoon sun, the grass had taken on a subtle hue of amber. Hesitantly, I lay down on my back, relaxed every muscle, emptied my mind and tried to feel.
Up on the branches of the willow tree, the orioles were singing.
Do you guys think I was too biased/whiny in the third paragraph? And is the issue too easily resolved? Any feedback is appreciated!
The moment the bus driver hit the brakes, I would leap down, sprint home as fast as humanly possible, hurl in my backpack then jump back outside. My friends would already be waiting, either to challenge me to a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card battle, or to show me another secret nook in the neighborhood. Whenever I was too tired to join them in their mischief, I would just lie on the comfortable meadow opposite our family's apartment, close my eyes, slowly take in the redolence of the tender grass and enjoy the euphonious songs of the orioles.
Life was good when I was studying 3rd grade in Pullman, Washington. Our family's living conditions back then were, to put it mildly, below average: during the first half of our 9-month-stay, we used a flipped-over cardboard box as the dinner table, and had to salvage basic amenities such as a black and white TV or an electric fan from the local laundry room. Yet I never thought of these as anything more than little nuisances. Being able to run freely and enjoy the winds on my cheeks was everything a 8-year-old could ask for.
The day we were to depart back to Vietnam, I vowed under my tears that I would return to the U.S. The education and glamour of America had left so great an impression on me that for a while after returning home, I became progressively dissatisfied with life in Vietnam, though it had remained largely unchanged the one year I was gone. I whined about how teachers in Vietnam forced students to cram mountains of academic trivia, how Vietnamese people could never wait in line properly, how often the traffic rules were disregarded - the list went on and on. I yearned constantly for the day I could return to the "Promised Land".
Yet as the years go by, I chuckle at how ridiculously naïve I have been. Our stay in America definitely wasn't perfect, but I had excessively exalted it simply because it was my first time experiencing such a vastly different culture. I can be nostalgic now and then, but I realize that those cheerfully innocent times are only a remnant of the past. Having been lectured on this topic numerous times, but only recently did I truly acknowledge the beauty of living in the "now".
Though currently drowned in the problems facing every teenager at the threshold of adulthood, I refuse to be swept away by the vicious current. I want to see, to hear, to experience everything I can here in Vietnam, so that when I finally fulfill my 9-year promise, I can confidently step forward without regrets.
Contemplating this, one day I decided to stroll a few miles from my house to the greenest meadow I could find. Under the gentle rays of the afternoon sun, the grass had taken on a subtle hue of amber. Hesitantly, I lay down on my back, relaxed every muscle, emptied my mind and tried to feel.
Up on the branches of the willow tree, the orioles were singing.
Do you guys think I was too biased/whiny in the third paragraph? And is the issue too easily resolved? Any feedback is appreciated!