truongb14
Jan 3, 2014
Undergraduate / I despise school - I have a story to tell UChicago [3]
Hey guys! This is for the extended essay top of "In a famous quote by José Ortega y Gasset, the Spanish philosopher proclaims, \"Yo soy yo y mi circunstancia\" (1914). José Quintans, master of the Biological Sciences Collegiate Division at the University of Chicago, sees it another way: \"Yo soy yo y mi microbioma\" (2012). You are you and your..? -Maria Viteri, Class of 2016" I was wondering what you think of this answer. Be harsh please! I know I made a lot of errors in this, but not sure what.
Yo soy yo mi abrazo. I am me and my hug. I have a story to tell you.
I despise school. Climbing out of our 2007 white Honda minivan I hear, "Hey! It's the fatso chink!" I try ignoring this insult, contemplating what goes through a bullies' minds when they utter confidence-destroying remarks. Wondering if they are just trying to be funny or make themselves feel better by degrading others. Walking to my first class, I'm punched in the side of my arm, hard. Although it hurts, it does not compare to the mental scars that I accumulate. Fortunately, I learn to filter out some of the constant attacks, but they still cause damage. I never lash out because I know that it would be futile, resulting in more torture. With each insult, I sink deeper and deeper into my shell of insecurity. I wonder if I will ever escape.
"Hey Brandon, you should apply to MSMS," Austin suggests without giving many details. I research and discover that the Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science is the best high school in the state and well ranked in the nation. Plus, it's a residential high school. I apply out of curiosity, pessimistic about my chances of being accepted. When I receive the acceptance letter, the grin on my face grows with each word I read; glad to have found an opportunity to escape.
Finally it is move-in day. The drive to Frazer Hall, a place I would call home for the next two years, passes by in a dream. As I encounter other students during move-in day, I am weary, afraid that they will be just like the bullies from my old school. My dad taps me awake, "Brandon, chúng tôi đang ở đây." I awake to see a group of people outside the car window looking at me. I am experience a barrage of hugs and introductions as I exit the minivan: "Hi I'm Priyanka nice to meet you..." Wilhelm...John Aaron... Bianca... and other names that I will come to know and love. I'm confused and scared at the same time, such affections from strangers have never happened before, yet I feel a certain warmth and comfort from the hugs. "Don't worry this becomes a regular thing and you'll probably end up being the same way," my emissary warns me. I find myself hugging my dad, which was a rare occurrence, because it has always been awkward showing physical affection towards my parents. "Hoc vŕ lŕm cho tôi tự hŕo," my dad encourages me. "Yeah, I'll do you proud, dad," I reply.
In each hug I give, I imagine that I am healing and removing their worries. Hugging is an hourly occurrence nowadays. Walking to my first class, I hug everyone I see. My friends ask me, "Brandon why are you so huggy and happy all the time?" I want to emanate the same warmth that I felt when I was hugged by my new friends for the first time; to take their minds off whatever is bothering them. I think for a minute and reply while hugging, "I don't really know, but hugs just make me happy and make other people happy."
Hey guys! This is for the extended essay top of "In a famous quote by José Ortega y Gasset, the Spanish philosopher proclaims, \"Yo soy yo y mi circunstancia\" (1914). José Quintans, master of the Biological Sciences Collegiate Division at the University of Chicago, sees it another way: \"Yo soy yo y mi microbioma\" (2012). You are you and your..? -Maria Viteri, Class of 2016" I was wondering what you think of this answer. Be harsh please! I know I made a lot of errors in this, but not sure what.
Yo soy yo mi abrazo. I am me and my hug. I have a story to tell you.
I despise school. Climbing out of our 2007 white Honda minivan I hear, "Hey! It's the fatso chink!" I try ignoring this insult, contemplating what goes through a bullies' minds when they utter confidence-destroying remarks. Wondering if they are just trying to be funny or make themselves feel better by degrading others. Walking to my first class, I'm punched in the side of my arm, hard. Although it hurts, it does not compare to the mental scars that I accumulate. Fortunately, I learn to filter out some of the constant attacks, but they still cause damage. I never lash out because I know that it would be futile, resulting in more torture. With each insult, I sink deeper and deeper into my shell of insecurity. I wonder if I will ever escape.
"Hey Brandon, you should apply to MSMS," Austin suggests without giving many details. I research and discover that the Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science is the best high school in the state and well ranked in the nation. Plus, it's a residential high school. I apply out of curiosity, pessimistic about my chances of being accepted. When I receive the acceptance letter, the grin on my face grows with each word I read; glad to have found an opportunity to escape.
Finally it is move-in day. The drive to Frazer Hall, a place I would call home for the next two years, passes by in a dream. As I encounter other students during move-in day, I am weary, afraid that they will be just like the bullies from my old school. My dad taps me awake, "Brandon, chúng tôi đang ở đây." I awake to see a group of people outside the car window looking at me. I am experience a barrage of hugs and introductions as I exit the minivan: "Hi I'm Priyanka nice to meet you..." Wilhelm...John Aaron... Bianca... and other names that I will come to know and love. I'm confused and scared at the same time, such affections from strangers have never happened before, yet I feel a certain warmth and comfort from the hugs. "Don't worry this becomes a regular thing and you'll probably end up being the same way," my emissary warns me. I find myself hugging my dad, which was a rare occurrence, because it has always been awkward showing physical affection towards my parents. "Hoc vŕ lŕm cho tôi tự hŕo," my dad encourages me. "Yeah, I'll do you proud, dad," I reply.
In each hug I give, I imagine that I am healing and removing their worries. Hugging is an hourly occurrence nowadays. Walking to my first class, I hug everyone I see. My friends ask me, "Brandon why are you so huggy and happy all the time?" I want to emanate the same warmth that I felt when I was hugged by my new friends for the first time; to take their minds off whatever is bothering them. I think for a minute and reply while hugging, "I don't really know, but hugs just make me happy and make other people happy."
