I wanted to write about how I want to serve others.. but I'm not sure if this really answers the question. I was wondering if you can help me out..
"The Admissions Committee would like to know more about you in your own words. Please submit a brief essay, either personal or creative, which you feel best describes you.".
Holding tightly onto my dad's hands, I smile at him as we walk into the Asian Supermarket across the street. Mom had asked us to do an errand because she would be cooking for all the people from church tonight, a staggering number of nearly 40. Well, thinking about it, we really never had a day when we ate just the five of us. Our house was always boisterous and loudïmy brother and his friends wrestling on the floor, my sister singing opera as her friend plays the piano, and the endless buzzing of different conversations that the adults had around our big kitchen table. Yet, I was content with my home as loud and chaotic as it was. Our house was a community home of some sort. People can always find an empty room to sleep in for a night or two if they are having trouble. There is always someone who will listen to their stories and problems. Others can always count on delicious home-cooked food and lots of laughter and happiness as our familyïall 40 of usïgather to appreciate what it truly means to support and love each other even if we're not blood-related. I smile at this thought and continue into the store.
Buying the ripest bottle of kim-chi, a traditional Korean dish that one can never forget in all three meals of the day, my dad and I head to our brightly lit home. Women are gossiping while preparing food while the men intently watch the World Cup soccer game. I grab an apron and start helping out in the kitchen. Balancing America's valued individualism and a Korean woman's traditional duty in the kitchen was always a part of my life since I had immigrated here at the age of 6. Soon, it's time for us to eat. Doors from all 9 rooms in our house are sprung open as people stream to the kitchen from all corners of the house, each bringing their own chair. The kids eat in the family room while the adults converse over the vast kitchen table, which is clearly the biggest furniture in our home. I must admit to having wondered at a young age why our home could never have the serenity and calm that I observe at my friends' homes. Often, I was frustrated when having to clean up the scattered toys that the other children had flung onto the floor before leaving.
Yet as I grew up, immersed in the love and friendships that held our family together, I began to appreciate how much my family embraced those around us. Whether it was packing sandwiches for the homeless every Friday night, or just helping a family friend out by giving them a place to stay, our home has always been the go-to place for anyone who needed help. Rather than the embarrassment and the frustration that I had felt before, pride filled my heart at our ability to assist others. Like many other families, our family struggled to make ends meet. I witnessed this myself as I helped my parents figure out the bills. Writing out checks, visiting the bank to figure out the APR rate for our loans to buy our house in the first place, and organizing our own finance book, I know our financial situation more than anyone else in the family. Yet even with our own problems, I see my parents dedicate themselves toward charities and service, providing others with things that we never would have had the money to buy. My parents were the ones who instilled a passion for service and love towards othersïnot through words, but through their lives. I hope that I can do the same.
"The Admissions Committee would like to know more about you in your own words. Please submit a brief essay, either personal or creative, which you feel best describes you.".
Holding tightly onto my dad's hands, I smile at him as we walk into the Asian Supermarket across the street. Mom had asked us to do an errand because she would be cooking for all the people from church tonight, a staggering number of nearly 40. Well, thinking about it, we really never had a day when we ate just the five of us. Our house was always boisterous and loudïmy brother and his friends wrestling on the floor, my sister singing opera as her friend plays the piano, and the endless buzzing of different conversations that the adults had around our big kitchen table. Yet, I was content with my home as loud and chaotic as it was. Our house was a community home of some sort. People can always find an empty room to sleep in for a night or two if they are having trouble. There is always someone who will listen to their stories and problems. Others can always count on delicious home-cooked food and lots of laughter and happiness as our familyïall 40 of usïgather to appreciate what it truly means to support and love each other even if we're not blood-related. I smile at this thought and continue into the store.
Buying the ripest bottle of kim-chi, a traditional Korean dish that one can never forget in all three meals of the day, my dad and I head to our brightly lit home. Women are gossiping while preparing food while the men intently watch the World Cup soccer game. I grab an apron and start helping out in the kitchen. Balancing America's valued individualism and a Korean woman's traditional duty in the kitchen was always a part of my life since I had immigrated here at the age of 6. Soon, it's time for us to eat. Doors from all 9 rooms in our house are sprung open as people stream to the kitchen from all corners of the house, each bringing their own chair. The kids eat in the family room while the adults converse over the vast kitchen table, which is clearly the biggest furniture in our home. I must admit to having wondered at a young age why our home could never have the serenity and calm that I observe at my friends' homes. Often, I was frustrated when having to clean up the scattered toys that the other children had flung onto the floor before leaving.
Yet as I grew up, immersed in the love and friendships that held our family together, I began to appreciate how much my family embraced those around us. Whether it was packing sandwiches for the homeless every Friday night, or just helping a family friend out by giving them a place to stay, our home has always been the go-to place for anyone who needed help. Rather than the embarrassment and the frustration that I had felt before, pride filled my heart at our ability to assist others. Like many other families, our family struggled to make ends meet. I witnessed this myself as I helped my parents figure out the bills. Writing out checks, visiting the bank to figure out the APR rate for our loans to buy our house in the first place, and organizing our own finance book, I know our financial situation more than anyone else in the family. Yet even with our own problems, I see my parents dedicate themselves toward charities and service, providing others with things that we never would have had the money to buy. My parents were the ones who instilled a passion for service and love towards othersïnot through words, but through their lives. I hope that I can do the same.
