Undergraduate / Columbia GS Essay from perspective of former semi professional hockey player [3]

Hello and thank you in advance for the time and effort needed to read my essay. I'm looking to in essence "trim the fat" to get my essay down a few hundred words. Also, I don't feel confident in my uniqueness and don't feel my essay conveys as strong a life story as others. I feel I need a stronger opening hook, a little more direction, and focus in the essay but here is a very rough first draft I've composed.

Autobiographical Essay (1,500 - 2,000 words): Tell us about your educational history, work experience, present situation, and plans for the future. Please make sure to address why you consider yourself a nontraditional student and have chosen to pursue your education at the School of General Studies of Columbia University. Successful essays should not only identify and describe specific elements of the program, academic or otherwise, that meet your needs as a nontraditional student, but should also explain why GS is the place for you.

When asked how I got into ice hockey being born in South Florida, a smile always comes across my face. My father is a PE coach and as his oldest son, he was very eager to get me started in sports as soon as possible. As it turned out, the Florida Panthers were starting a PR initiative to introduce the youth of Miami to the sport of hockey, and my dad enrolled me in a roller hockey program at the age of three. This launched my love and passion for the sport for the next eighteen years. To this day, my mother, a native of Cuba, has a hard time understanding why I would choose to go into a freezing ice hockey rink in Miami, Florida when I could play a sport like baseball, a beloved sport of Cubans and Americans alike. People constantly ask me why I fell in love with hockey. While there is no single reason I can summon, what drew me into the sport was the combination of the physical intensity required, the adrenaline rush from the speed and danger of the game, and my desire to be unique and stand apart from the crowd. I thrive in a hockey environment not only because of my passion for the game, but because it pushes me mentally, while requiring specialized visualization techniques and an ability to perform under pressure.

At the age of fifteen, I led USA Hockey's National Team Development Camp in highest goals scored, the first Floridian-born player to do so. At seventeen, I made the National Hockey League's (NHL) Top 200 North American born prospects list for the NHL draft of 2010. In the same year, I was signed to play with the Philadelphia Revolution of the Eastern Junior Hockey League (EJHL), an elite junior/pre-professional league for players ages 17-21 and moved to Philadelphia, attended a public high school and lived with a host family. At this time I was targeted by several scouts through NHL Central Scouting. Upon graduating high school, I continued on the professional track and played in the North American Hockey League (NAHL), first with the Coulee Region Chill in Wisconsin and then with the Aberdeen Wings of South Dakota after requesting a trade. While playing for the Aberdeen Wings I was recruited to play for The United States Military Academy at West Point. My prospects for a career in hockey couldn't have been better.

The downside to my many hockey accomplishments and highlights was that academics, due to the demanding time commitment of hockey, unfortunately became a secondary priority. Through out high school I was constantly travelling to tournaments, games, and invitational showcases in places from New England to as far as Western Canada. Travelling all of North America to play a game I loved was a dream come true, but something had to give. That something was my schoolwork. Whether it was attending three different high schools due to playing with different teams, or missing up to 25 school days in a year, I was definitely not in a position to succeed in school. This killed me inside. In my own mind I was a student first, and hockey player second, but my grades certainly did not reflect that. And because I made an unwavering commitment to hockey, I did my best to balance the two. While I always maintained high aspirations and ambition towards my studies, including a rigorous course load of gifted and AP courses, the time commitment required by such a course load did not exactly mesh with a hockey schedule that involved: commuting four hours nightly, practicing extensively, weight lifting, and not-to-mention bi-weekly trips to the Midwest for league play. Because ice hockey is not a traditional sport of South Florida, there were only enough players to make a team by combining all of the best players in the entire state; we couldn't simply play another team from the next town over. This meant we had to join a league in the upper Midwest, and that only added to the juggling act of school and athletics. Along with having games on Fridays, we of course had to fly up a day in advance to get to our games' locations in a timely manner. This would mean missing multiple school days a week to play hockey. In addition to this, I shifted high schools starting in Miami, and moving to schools in Jacksonville, Florida and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. While it was thrilling to be able to live in so many places and play the game I loved, mismatching curricula between the schools further added to my academic turmoil. Circumstances such as switching into math classes midyear I was not familiar with, coaches disinterested with school schedules, or having to wait three weeks in the middle of the semester to register for school, arose far too often. Looking back, school was my biggest disappointment. Here I was thriving in one aspect of my life, yet floundering in another, contradictory of my expectations for excellence in everything I did. What was disappointing was that I shared an equal love for learning and acquiring as much knowledge as possible as I did hockey, yet I had nothing to show for it. Introspectively, I experienced deep distress regarding my academic shortcomings, but on the surface I played a perfect charade of a cliché athlete only concerned with his athletic ability.

Upon graduating from high school, the struggle between school and hockey became an afterthought. I entered into my second year of pre-professional ice hockey in hopes of attaining a NCAA scholarship or being drafted into the NHL, and I was having the time of my life. Along with playing amongst future NHL players, I was also once again able to travel the country and experience an array of cultures and customs different from my own. No experience exemplified this diversity quite like host families. During my four years of pre-professional play I had the opportunity to live with three vastly different and unique families. From a single mother who worked three jobs, to a family of surgeons, to farmers, I had the chance to experience it all. In living with these families, it was humbling to see how accepting they were of complete strangers. It was equally unexpected to see how integrated into their families I had become, seemingly overnight. Whether it was being included in Christmas festivities or family vacations, these families helped mold part of my character and made me a more accepting and understanding person. The most encouraging aspect of living with these families was their enduring support of my goals. While playing for these teams I was heavily recruited by major college hockey programs, as well as being in the mix for NHL tryout camp invitations. Ultimately, I became set on attending the United States Military Academy at West Point (Army) and playing Division 1 hockey while having the honor of serving my country. Though this wasn't to be.

Everything changed in a playoff game in Tampa, Florida. A late hit following a pass I made, sent me flying to the ice. In that split second I knew something was wrong. I finished out the game, but the following day I became immobilized in a skating capacity. I knew there was no way I could get back on the ice. Following months of consulting specialists, and having to give up my chance at playing for Army, I took time off with hopes that the rest would prepare me for the beginning of my collegiate career as a hockey recruit at Manhattanville College that fall. Training camp quickly revealed that I had been misdiagnosed, and my hockey career came to a sudden end. Admittedly, it was earthshattering at first to no longer have the ability to skate, something I had learned to do before I could even walk. All the dedication, energy, and passion I had for hockey had to be channeled into another direction, and the classroom was the perfect arena to apply myself.

So this was it, after long being dormant, my enthusiasm for school had now come to the forefront, and would receive the attention it so desperately deserved. As I began my studies at Manhattanville, my advisor asked me what it was I wanted to study. While aimlessly looking around the room, I was taken aback by my inability to come up with any sort of answer. Then I thought about my family. My brother had recently been diagnosed as Schizophrenic, and my mother only a few weeks earlier, had opened up to me about her life long struggle with severe Major Depressive Disorder. I had always had an affinity for what causes people to behave the way they do and the power of one's mind, but had never before really considered studying psychology. Hesitant to commit to a major so early on in college I opted to take a more broad approach and remained undeclared. Immediately I experienced success in the classroom, a foreign concept to me. For the first time in my life I was producing consistent work I could be proud of. Often, I'd e-mail my parents with essays, exam scores, and intriguing materials that had been covered in class. Coming from a person who wouldn't even speak of his high school academics due to disappointment, this was a stark contrast. It was liberating and encouraging that I now had the time to immerse myself in my coursework. I was going beyond what was expected, from supplemental reading to extra credit projects, and enjoying it. At the conclusion of my first college semester I was extremely satisfied and proud with what I had accomplished. I finished with a GPA just a hair under a 3.5 and was invited to Manhattanville's honors program. But just as with hockey, I was determined not to become satisfied and dwell on what I had accomplished, but instead strive for more.

At the conclusion of the semester I returned home for winter break. My first extended time at home in four years was much appreciated. Being at home meant time with my family. During this time I really had a chance to grasp a sense of my family's dynamic from a day-to-day basis. I saw how my brother's disease had an affect on my family and began studying my mom more closely and curiously. Only after being home for this time did it strike me. With complete clarity and conviction I knew it was my calling to enter a career in psychology. Seeing how these illnesses impacted my loved ones gave me an impassioned urge to want to help them and others. Upon arriving home for winter break, without the intention of returning to Manhattanville because of my injury, I returned to a past employer hoping to attain part-time work as the office's handyman. The office was a psychiatry practice founded by a family friend who had been treating my mother and brother, Dr. Lisa Burton. Fascinated with mental illnesses, especially now with how much it was a part of my family, I expressed my interest to Dr. Burton expecting not much of a response, but was elated with her reply. She was open to working with me, and quickly took valuable time out her day to educate me in the methodology and nuances of psychiatry. I became hooked. Day after day I would come to the office, taking a position as an administrative assistant to gain more exposure with my new passion. After only a month, I was granted the opportunity to work directly with the screening of patients and was even permitted to sit in on therapy sessions, in which I am currently still doing today. "This is it," I told myself. After much uncertainty and time gone by, I finally had a calling to call my own. Along with my job and mentee position at Dr. Burton's practice I enrolled at Miami Dade College and proudly declared as a psychology major. I've devoured any and all information I had access to and have been somewhat content. But something is missing. Perhaps due to my competitive nature as an athlete, I yearn for more of a challenge.

Before my classes at Miami Dade College even commenced, I began researching where I wanted to attend for the rest of my undergraduate studies, knowing that my time here was only temporary until my spine fully healed. So as was part of my naturally inquisitive and exploratory nature, I began scouring the Internet, this is when I initially discovered Columbia GS. Upon examining the various pages and sections of the website I became cautiously optimistic. I did not believe what I had accomplished academically to date was necessarily Columbia worthy, but I continued to read. To my surprise I read story after story of people just like myself. Whether it was struggles in high school or deferring school to go into the work force, we all shared an alternative course to higher education. I read more about how Columbia GS looks at the applicant holistically, and factored in how those applicants' talents and attributes can be applied to the classroom and achieving success in a demanding environment. I decided to begin the application process and become more involved in understanding what Columbia GS represents and how it would suit me.

Jumping to present day, it is evident that Columbia and the School of General Studies is the perfect fit. I say this not as a mere generic answer to an essay prompt, but with great conviction. So much about Columbia, in unison with GS, is unique and innovative, much like the students themselves. In any given classroom you have the opportunity to immerse yourself in a diverse blend of perspective. It is this rich fusion of so many backgrounds that sets Columbia apart; the students themselves are some of the University's greatest assets. From CEOs, to stay-at-home mothers, to renowned dancers, each student brings valuable and unique insight into the classroom and allows you to expand as a person. GS takes a holistic approach to the student. With GS, there's a world beyond GPAs and test scores that is prized as an intertwined connection to the classroom itself. Similar to students of GS, I never lost focus on what it was I wanted to achieve in the classroom. While many of us became detracted and sidetracked with the realities of an uncertain life, it was in our resiliency and persistence that makes us powerful and successful students. In no other university, much less a leading academic and cultural institution, would I have the chance at academic redemption granted by Columbia GS, an opportunity to prove myself, and to once again strive for more. As part of my identity, as an athlete I welcome the challenge and revel in the pressure of the high demand and expectations Columbia will place on me. Specifically, the psychology department at Columbia is especially attractive to a student of my type. A curriculum with an emphasis on experimentation and exploration and pushing boundaries is representative as me as a person. As I consider myself an innovator and pioneer of sorts, so to is this true of the psychology department. From Robert Woodworth's founding of a modern social/biological approach to psychology that is still used today to Joy Hirsh's discovery of brain mapping in regard to its utilization in clinical settings, the psychology department consistently pushes the boundaries. This becomes relative to me. Furthermore, a Columbia education is not the end of academic growth, but rather a springboard into a world of possibilities. Completing my time at GS would open up realms not previously possible. With my degree from Columbia I'd proceed to medical school and become the psychiatrist my family and mentor have inspired me to become. Though in leaving Columbia GS, my education wouldn't be confined to the one-dimensional nature of many other universities. As with the students of GS themselves, the knowledge and insight gained from outside the textbooks and lectures is just as valuable. It is the distinct mix of a challenging, mentally testing curriculum paired with the people and experiences that put Columbia and the School of General Studies in a class of its own, a class I could not be more honored to become a part of.