Hey everyone! I am applying to transfer to UT Austin this spring semester:
AACCC - If you were the one to decide whether or not to receive the scholarship
This is my essay, thank you kindly for any feedback...
When I was twelve years old, my father had his right leg amputated due to an infection made worse from diabetes. After my father's leg was amputated, he was forced into a well deserved retirement and for the first time in his life, did not work eighteen hour days. For the first time in my life, I had a father around. The first weekend he was home from the hospital was also the weekend I was practicing around the clock for the upcoming junior high basketball try-outs.
My oldest brother had promised to come home for the weekend to help with my practice, but he had called to say he had to work. As I hung up the phone, I turned to find my father in his wheelchair holding a basketball. "Right," I said. He threw the basketball at me, and with that, began the greatest weekend I would ever spend with him. For two days, we did drills, told stories, hung out, practiced more and at one point, I got tired and he had to encourage me to continue. Imagine that, a perfectly healthy kid being encouraged by his seemingly disadvantaged father. That is what type of person my father was, and the heart my father had.
When I sat down to write this essay, I struggled to remember if I made the team or not. It wasn't a fraction as important as the time I spent with him. That next year, the last of my siblings would graduate and go away to college. I was the youngest of six children, but suddenly an only child. My academic work became more challenging, as I discovered later that year I was dyslexic and with no one at home to help, I turned to my father again. English was not his first language, but he would stay up with me late nights, until that book report or history paper was done. I always imagined the day when I, too, would graduate and get to thank him for being the strength I needed.
April 2, 2001 would rob me of that wish. At five o clock in the morning, I was awakened by my mother's sobbing. I walked into the living room as my mother held my father's lifeless head in her hands. "What happened?" I asked. "He's not waking. He's not waking!" she repeated, over and over again. I don't remember calling 911, but I must have because the ambulance arrived in minutes. That's where my memory becomes segmented, though. I remember holding his hand, before the ambulance. I remember being pushed aside as these men attended to him.
I remember the funeral, where my three brothers and I lifted his coffin to his final resting place. At thirteen, I lost a father that I had just only begun to get to know. It was unfair, and I had the kind of deep anger that can only come from sadness. I stopped going to school regularly, and when I did go, my work was less than acceptable. No one could get through to me. I missed him. I didn't know how to talk about my pain, and for that first year without him, I just became more angry and isolated. It took a horrific event and the subsequent heroic acts of Americans for me to break out of my pain.
September 11, 2001, I stayed home sick and was flipping through the channels when the image of an airplane colliding into a building stopped me instantly. Soon, I along with the rest of the world would learn that this was an intentional act of terrorism that robbed nearly 3,000 people of their lives. As the world learned more about the firefighters, police officers, doctors, civilians and so on who risked their lives, often giving their lives, so that others may survive, I realized that pain and grief were universal. The loss of a loved one was very familiar to me, and the grief of the fallen that day should not be in vain. For all the evil in the world, there had to exist good. And I could either wilt away from my pain or make my father proud. I chose to make him proud. That's the day I decided to bridge the gap between the Middle East and the United States, in hopes that knowledge would pave the way for peace.
I have since dedicated myself to my community and the greater good. As such, in the 2008; 2009 year, I served as a crisis counselor on the suicide hotline on weekends for the Crisis Intervention of Houston. During the week, I was an AmeriCorps volunteer for our very own Arab-American Cultural & Community Center where I contributed to the successful charitable events to the community such as The National Service Day, The 9/11 Day of Service Project and the 8th Annual Health & Safety Fair. In addition, I was actively involved with the Student Government Association at my college, which sponsored an annual charity event that raised $1,400 for the Jori Zemel Children's Bone Cancer Foundation.
Receiving this scholarship from the AACCC would greatly assist me with my future endeavors I have chosen to pursue in life, am confident that I possess the aptitude and skills to excel if given the opportunity. I have gained strong leadership and independent thinking skills in my term as student council president. I have been acknowledged by my peers and educators for my diplomacy and ability to relate to people from all walks of life. My greatest desire is to make a real difference in this world. If given the opportunity, I pledge to serve this great country, the Arab-American Cultural & Community Center, and my community with the very best of my abilities.
AACCC - If you were the one to decide whether or not to receive the scholarship
This is my essay, thank you kindly for any feedback...
When I was twelve years old, my father had his right leg amputated due to an infection made worse from diabetes. After my father's leg was amputated, he was forced into a well deserved retirement and for the first time in his life, did not work eighteen hour days. For the first time in my life, I had a father around. The first weekend he was home from the hospital was also the weekend I was practicing around the clock for the upcoming junior high basketball try-outs.
My oldest brother had promised to come home for the weekend to help with my practice, but he had called to say he had to work. As I hung up the phone, I turned to find my father in his wheelchair holding a basketball. "Right," I said. He threw the basketball at me, and with that, began the greatest weekend I would ever spend with him. For two days, we did drills, told stories, hung out, practiced more and at one point, I got tired and he had to encourage me to continue. Imagine that, a perfectly healthy kid being encouraged by his seemingly disadvantaged father. That is what type of person my father was, and the heart my father had.
When I sat down to write this essay, I struggled to remember if I made the team or not. It wasn't a fraction as important as the time I spent with him. That next year, the last of my siblings would graduate and go away to college. I was the youngest of six children, but suddenly an only child. My academic work became more challenging, as I discovered later that year I was dyslexic and with no one at home to help, I turned to my father again. English was not his first language, but he would stay up with me late nights, until that book report or history paper was done. I always imagined the day when I, too, would graduate and get to thank him for being the strength I needed.
April 2, 2001 would rob me of that wish. At five o clock in the morning, I was awakened by my mother's sobbing. I walked into the living room as my mother held my father's lifeless head in her hands. "What happened?" I asked. "He's not waking. He's not waking!" she repeated, over and over again. I don't remember calling 911, but I must have because the ambulance arrived in minutes. That's where my memory becomes segmented, though. I remember holding his hand, before the ambulance. I remember being pushed aside as these men attended to him.
I remember the funeral, where my three brothers and I lifted his coffin to his final resting place. At thirteen, I lost a father that I had just only begun to get to know. It was unfair, and I had the kind of deep anger that can only come from sadness. I stopped going to school regularly, and when I did go, my work was less than acceptable. No one could get through to me. I missed him. I didn't know how to talk about my pain, and for that first year without him, I just became more angry and isolated. It took a horrific event and the subsequent heroic acts of Americans for me to break out of my pain.
September 11, 2001, I stayed home sick and was flipping through the channels when the image of an airplane colliding into a building stopped me instantly. Soon, I along with the rest of the world would learn that this was an intentional act of terrorism that robbed nearly 3,000 people of their lives. As the world learned more about the firefighters, police officers, doctors, civilians and so on who risked their lives, often giving their lives, so that others may survive, I realized that pain and grief were universal. The loss of a loved one was very familiar to me, and the grief of the fallen that day should not be in vain. For all the evil in the world, there had to exist good. And I could either wilt away from my pain or make my father proud. I chose to make him proud. That's the day I decided to bridge the gap between the Middle East and the United States, in hopes that knowledge would pave the way for peace.
I have since dedicated myself to my community and the greater good. As such, in the 2008; 2009 year, I served as a crisis counselor on the suicide hotline on weekends for the Crisis Intervention of Houston. During the week, I was an AmeriCorps volunteer for our very own Arab-American Cultural & Community Center where I contributed to the successful charitable events to the community such as The National Service Day, The 9/11 Day of Service Project and the 8th Annual Health & Safety Fair. In addition, I was actively involved with the Student Government Association at my college, which sponsored an annual charity event that raised $1,400 for the Jori Zemel Children's Bone Cancer Foundation.
Receiving this scholarship from the AACCC would greatly assist me with my future endeavors I have chosen to pursue in life, am confident that I possess the aptitude and skills to excel if given the opportunity. I have gained strong leadership and independent thinking skills in my term as student council president. I have been acknowledged by my peers and educators for my diplomacy and ability to relate to people from all walks of life. My greatest desire is to make a real difference in this world. If given the opportunity, I pledge to serve this great country, the Arab-American Cultural & Community Center, and my community with the very best of my abilities.