iabas
Nov 1, 2011
Undergraduate / Joining the Tutoring Club-Personal Statement (Competition), Yale (A "Hideous" Jacket) [5]
Any form of feedback or constructive criticism is welcome!
Personal statement:
"I got the highest score again!"
How I dreamed of announcing those resplendent words after every test grade came back! I would accentuate the again with a nonchalant tone, as if this result were to be expected, to denote my superiority. While I loved to learn, my main goal was always to be the best, the smartest of my peers. After all, as a proponent of the Darwinian mantra of "the survival of the fittest," I believed school was not an institution for intellectual growth but rather a battlefield where a sanguinary every-student-for-himself war took place. We would scour seas of text for cryptic literary symbols, try to concoct the most efficient algorithms to solve mathematical conundrums, and unleash our retentive wraths with biological and chemical warfare, hoping to achieve victory. Tests were our battles, minds our weapons, GPAs the indicators of our might. The last man standing, of course, would be flooded with acceptance letters to the most prestigious universities and attain the self-satisfaction of being the "smartest kid in school." Failure was not an option.
With this mindset, however, came a massive ego. I gradually began to let my guard down, dancing with death multiple times by accumulating several A-'s. They didn't faze me though, as I had the most versatile excuse: "As long as I get an A, I don't care about my grade. If I actually tried though, I would have the highest grade." But this foreboded a bleak fate. Indeed, my hubris would get the best of me after a semester-long affray with my most formidable enemy, English 10 Honors, leaving me brutalized with the agonizing wounds of a B+.
I was humbled. [My Name] didn't get B+'s. [My Name] only earned A's. But now, it seemed like that flood of acceptance letters would only be a droplet.
I retracted into a state of melancholy. My parents were unforgiving, so I sought consolation from my friends and classmates. None of them gave me even an ounce of sympathy; my haughty attitude had alienated them, severing our friendships. I had been living in a delusion all along by imagining the cutthroat competition around me. The reality was that nobody cared about being the best. Instead, while I was detaching myself from my classmates, they had been aiding one another to mitigate the stresses of school and succeed together. I needed to be reformed.
Joining the Tutoring Club, I began attending tutoring sessions as a biology and math tutor. But I was surprised to realize that I was less of a tutor and more of a member of a forum of ideas. We would contribute to each others' understandings through an exchange of facts and strategies. Even as a tutor, I left each session with new approaches to problems. My dormant love for learning was finally rekindled.
GPA is still important to me, but I no longer view my classmates as belligerents in a fierce war. Instead, we work together, thriving as a community, learning through each. Never again will I trade friendship for something as trivial as being the best.
Yale Supplement:
Its price tag read $9.99, and I didn't want it.
Drooping from its worn, plastic coat hanger, it was a hideous sight, its dead gray color and grossly uneven seams averting even the most unfashionable of customers. I almost felt sorry for it. And yet there I was, grudgingly slipping it off the coat hanger.
My arms squirmed into its sleeves, and I stood there fidgeting, itches invading from all angles. Now I definitely didn't want it.
"Looks a bit big on you," my mom observed. "You'll grow into it though. I like it. How about you?"
It was one of the cheapest jackets in the store, and I knew we had to be frugal, so I lied. "It's alright. A bit itchy, but nothing the washing machine can't fix, I guess." I regretted those words the second they came out of my mouth. As we headed for the cash register, I painfully watched the graceful jackets hanging from the wooden coat hangers with glazed finishes slip away from my view.
I tried to reason with myself. We were doing it a favor by buying it, since there was no way anyone else would. Plus, I didn't actually have to wear it; I would just brave the fleeting winter chill with only a T-shirt.
But come winter, the cold became unbearable. I spent most of my days shivering to no end. The cost of not wearing the jacket was too great now, so for the first time after buying it, months later, I decided to wear it.
It was still stiff and uncomfortable, and I feared the taunts of my classmates for wearing such an atrocity. But as the day went on, no one even mentioned the jacket. The discomfort gradually faded with my worries, and I was shivering no longer. Perhaps the price tag had deluded my thoughts on its comfort and appearance.
I started wearing it every day. Even during the hottest of days, I wore it just to protect myself from the morning breeze. When my mom suggested I buy a new one, I refused. The jacket was my emblem, a distinctive part of who I was. It became more common to see me in it than not.
In it, I took eight AP tests, integrating functions and explicating Nixon's policies without flinching at the subzero temperatures of the test room.
In it, I aided my first patient as a volunteer at a hospital, her gratitude I will never forget.
In it, I started high school as an ungainly freshman and developed into a composed senior.
In retrospect, a jacket from those wooden hangers would have been nice, but I never needed one. My grey jacket did the same job at half the cost. Likewise, I don't need expensive luxuries to continue with life. The cheaper alternative is often perfectly adequate. And from just this simple grey jacket, I learned an essential lesson in conservation.
Concerns:
-Are the pieces well written (compelling language, flows well)?
-How are the endings? (I feel like this is a big weakness of mine.)
-Am I clear in the purposes of my essays, and/or do I answer the prompts?
Thank you so much! Any feedback on any of the pieces is greatly appreciated!
Any form of feedback or constructive criticism is welcome!
Personal statement:
"I got the highest score again!"
How I dreamed of announcing those resplendent words after every test grade came back! I would accentuate the again with a nonchalant tone, as if this result were to be expected, to denote my superiority. While I loved to learn, my main goal was always to be the best, the smartest of my peers. After all, as a proponent of the Darwinian mantra of "the survival of the fittest," I believed school was not an institution for intellectual growth but rather a battlefield where a sanguinary every-student-for-himself war took place. We would scour seas of text for cryptic literary symbols, try to concoct the most efficient algorithms to solve mathematical conundrums, and unleash our retentive wraths with biological and chemical warfare, hoping to achieve victory. Tests were our battles, minds our weapons, GPAs the indicators of our might. The last man standing, of course, would be flooded with acceptance letters to the most prestigious universities and attain the self-satisfaction of being the "smartest kid in school." Failure was not an option.
With this mindset, however, came a massive ego. I gradually began to let my guard down, dancing with death multiple times by accumulating several A-'s. They didn't faze me though, as I had the most versatile excuse: "As long as I get an A, I don't care about my grade. If I actually tried though, I would have the highest grade." But this foreboded a bleak fate. Indeed, my hubris would get the best of me after a semester-long affray with my most formidable enemy, English 10 Honors, leaving me brutalized with the agonizing wounds of a B+.
I was humbled. [My Name] didn't get B+'s. [My Name] only earned A's. But now, it seemed like that flood of acceptance letters would only be a droplet.
I retracted into a state of melancholy. My parents were unforgiving, so I sought consolation from my friends and classmates. None of them gave me even an ounce of sympathy; my haughty attitude had alienated them, severing our friendships. I had been living in a delusion all along by imagining the cutthroat competition around me. The reality was that nobody cared about being the best. Instead, while I was detaching myself from my classmates, they had been aiding one another to mitigate the stresses of school and succeed together. I needed to be reformed.
Joining the Tutoring Club, I began attending tutoring sessions as a biology and math tutor. But I was surprised to realize that I was less of a tutor and more of a member of a forum of ideas. We would contribute to each others' understandings through an exchange of facts and strategies. Even as a tutor, I left each session with new approaches to problems. My dormant love for learning was finally rekindled.
GPA is still important to me, but I no longer view my classmates as belligerents in a fierce war. Instead, we work together, thriving as a community, learning through each. Never again will I trade friendship for something as trivial as being the best.
Yale Supplement:
Its price tag read $9.99, and I didn't want it.
Drooping from its worn, plastic coat hanger, it was a hideous sight, its dead gray color and grossly uneven seams averting even the most unfashionable of customers. I almost felt sorry for it. And yet there I was, grudgingly slipping it off the coat hanger.
My arms squirmed into its sleeves, and I stood there fidgeting, itches invading from all angles. Now I definitely didn't want it.
"Looks a bit big on you," my mom observed. "You'll grow into it though. I like it. How about you?"
It was one of the cheapest jackets in the store, and I knew we had to be frugal, so I lied. "It's alright. A bit itchy, but nothing the washing machine can't fix, I guess." I regretted those words the second they came out of my mouth. As we headed for the cash register, I painfully watched the graceful jackets hanging from the wooden coat hangers with glazed finishes slip away from my view.
I tried to reason with myself. We were doing it a favor by buying it, since there was no way anyone else would. Plus, I didn't actually have to wear it; I would just brave the fleeting winter chill with only a T-shirt.
But come winter, the cold became unbearable. I spent most of my days shivering to no end. The cost of not wearing the jacket was too great now, so for the first time after buying it, months later, I decided to wear it.
It was still stiff and uncomfortable, and I feared the taunts of my classmates for wearing such an atrocity. But as the day went on, no one even mentioned the jacket. The discomfort gradually faded with my worries, and I was shivering no longer. Perhaps the price tag had deluded my thoughts on its comfort and appearance.
I started wearing it every day. Even during the hottest of days, I wore it just to protect myself from the morning breeze. When my mom suggested I buy a new one, I refused. The jacket was my emblem, a distinctive part of who I was. It became more common to see me in it than not.
In it, I took eight AP tests, integrating functions and explicating Nixon's policies without flinching at the subzero temperatures of the test room.
In it, I aided my first patient as a volunteer at a hospital, her gratitude I will never forget.
In it, I started high school as an ungainly freshman and developed into a composed senior.
In retrospect, a jacket from those wooden hangers would have been nice, but I never needed one. My grey jacket did the same job at half the cost. Likewise, I don't need expensive luxuries to continue with life. The cheaper alternative is often perfectly adequate. And from just this simple grey jacket, I learned an essential lesson in conservation.
Concerns:
-Are the pieces well written (compelling language, flows well)?
-How are the endings? (I feel like this is a big weakness of mine.)
-Am I clear in the purposes of my essays, and/or do I answer the prompts?
Thank you so much! Any feedback on any of the pieces is greatly appreciated!
