Scholarship / QuestBridge National College Match Short Answers [7]

Please tell me if the first 2 short answers are specific enough and if the 3rd fits the prompt of "intellectual curiosity". Do my answers paint a distinct picture of me as an applicant, or would I fade into the rest of the essays the admissions officers read?

1. Describe which single activity/interest listed above represents your most meaningful commitment and why. (400 characters; FBLA = Future Business Leaders of America, and was already defined as such, so using an acronym is no problem)

Although business isn't for me, FBLA brought new dimensions into my life. It gave me my first leadership opportunity to make independent financial decisions for the club. It was my first experience competing nationally, standing onstage before 12,000 people, accepting my award. I adapted to an administrative role, gained experience and ambition, and met people whose passion inspired my own.

2. What are your career goals and how did you develop them? (400 characters)
Working in a drug research lab by myself and rarely getting new results made me realize I wanted to take a front-lines approach to healing people and seeing their tangible recovery. Personal experience with mental health issues and self-studying AP Psychology were especially formative for my interest in psychiatry and medicine in general. I also read doctors' memoirs for insight on the profession.

3. Tell us about a concept, theory, or subject that has piqued your intellectual curiosity. What steps have you taken or do you want to take to further explore that interest? (200 words)

My interest in American history and politics is fairly recent. As the 2014 Ferguson riots polarized the country, I, childishly cynical and lacking moderation, believed I didn't want to learn the history of "old white men" at all. But as I watched the arguments over Black Lives Matter unfold, I realized cynicism will never lead to progress. Watching articulate debates and contrasting those with other blustering, emotion-heavy arguments taught me that thorough knowledge of the facts is vital in using civil, intelligent conversation to prevent divisiveness. Even though I'd already taken regular US history, I decided to take AP US History and also AP Government and Politics to get the facts before I can productively contribute to the conversation. I highly anticipate taking part in activism in college, especially because all through high school I've been limited by my parents' disapproval. I'm also lucky enough to be able to apply what I learn in class to the 2016 election. Now, for the first time, I feel invested in this country and in my future of working to ensure that the American narrative will never again be told only by, as 14-year-old me put it, "old white men".

4. If you could meet a character from a book or a historical figure, who would it be and what would you ask them? (200 words)
Dear Mr. Harvey Milk,
On my first day of senior year, I was mistaken for a freshman exactly seven times. And yeah, I'm barely 5'0 with a round baby face to match--a special kind of disadvantage. When you're at the intersection of gender, race, and sexuality--and, to be honest, stature--as I am, the world's scrutiny is like a mixed bag of shame. I'm working on it, though, just as the world is steadily working on it too. If you saw how far the gay movement has come since 1978, would you even believe it? Would you tell us to not get complacent and to keep fighting until true equilibrium has been reached? At what milestone would you declare equilibrium achieved? What role would I, small and lacking an air of authority as I am, play in it?

But it doesn't really matter, does it? I'm not in it to make history or leave a legacy. Take some of the gravitas away, and it gets less scary. I stop worrying about how to make myself loom larger to make an impact. You were simply fighting for what is right, as you were, and I'll do it too, as I am.

Scholarship / QuestBridge biographical essay - "Here's one special skill you won't see on my resume" [10]

Please let me know if you thought the metaphor I used was original. Since this is a biographical essay, obviously the topic of narrating my life won't be too unique. I just want to know if the first line and the way I wrote the essay piques your interest, and any revisions and advice is appreciated! The limit is 800 words and right now I'm at 793.

Here's one special skill you won't see on my resume: I can hear my memories in the form of music.

It began on December 16th, 2006, the day my grandmother and I, with approximately fifteen English words between us, boarded a plane in Beijing to Tampa, Florida, where my mother had immigrated to a year prior. The first piece in this musical photo album was a melody used for three songs: Twinkle Twinkle, the alphabet song, and Baa Baa Black Sheep--the extent of my English skills. In January, I was thrown without ado into the second half of second grade. No one looked or spoke like me. I clutched my three songs closer, put my head down in books, and didn't look back up until I had won my class's vocabulary contest three months later.

Like all children of immigrants, I grew up before my time. I learned the language of landlords and car salesmen and tax forms before turning ten. During this, I struggled with my ethnicity in an overwhelmingly white school. Rallying against stereotypes, I painstakingly memorized "Fifty Nifty United States" and sang it in my choppy accent for music class. (I was still an outsider, but hey, it wasn't a complete waste--to this day I can still recite all fifty states in twenty seconds.)

The summer after fifth grade, we moved to a suburb near Detroit for my parents' jobs, when the turbulence of adolescence began. I did not handle relocation well. While I had friends in school, I dropped most of the extracurriculars that I had flourished in because my parents had no time to drive me. Feelings of inadequacy compared to my peers and insecurity about what we couldn't afford began and would continue for years to come, and my family life began its slow decline.

My father, who'd followed my mother here to support her endeavor of becoming a doctor, felt trapped and unproductive. He longed to be doing surgery in China; instead he was doing mind-numbing lab work in a country where he didn't belong. Meanwhile, I was sullen, impatient, and stopped talking to my family in favor of my computer. Three years later, he left for a new surgeon position in China. Said he had to make something of his life, said a man's calling will always be in his career. I didn't think this would affect me; after all, it was only "temporary". He still hasn't come back, and I had never been more wrong.

A rocky transition into high school, my family seemingly falling apart, and one of the worst winters in decades culminated in seasonal affective disorder. I was frustrated and angry with myself, stubbornly denied that I was unwell, thought I had no right to feel this way. It wasn't until my mother heard me sobbing late one night that she found out I had been like this for months. The music, if I had to describe it, would not be a melancholic ballad. It would not be poignant, nor tragically poetic. Those words imply beauty in darkness, and for me, there was no beauty.

Slowly, however, the soundtrack of my life was revived. It started small, just a timid, single-string violin melody at first. Then, a piano would key a few bars of harmony, adding depth. Then the drums kicked in, picking up the pace, and finally, to announce my triumphant return, cymbal crash! Well, not so much a crash as a haphazard clang, and not so much triumphant as a shaky hobble. But I was back, and I didn't intend to go away again anytime soon.

My mom achieved her goal, miraculously landed a residency position in Buffalo, New York. We moved again. This time I was grateful to leave bad times behind. Junior year was approaching, and I was going to work harder than ever to compensate for the two years I'd already lost. There was still lingering bitterness: Why did I have to get sick? Why didn't I have this clarity of mind earlier? If I had been a better daughter, would my family be whole?

Those thoughts have no power over me now. I've learned throughout my life and especially in my recovery that I can't change how the music of the past sounds. I'm still learning, because my newfound success is meaningless if I do not evolve and aim for constant improvement.

I can't hear the music of this time right now, but I know it will be there. It's never fully formed in the moment, much like how it's impossible to determine what the future will be. I simply try to compose a score that will add substance to my collection. This is my song to write, and I'll make it a good one.