this is my response to the Brown University prompt, "What is the best piece of advice you've ever been given, and why?" Please give me as much criticism as possible- I want to improve!:)) I also PROMISE that I will promptly return the favor and read/comment on any essays you have posted.
"Hay is for horses." So taught my great-grandmother to my mother and my mother to me. Though it may not seem on the surface to be significant or life changing advice, it taught me a lot. Whenever I fell back into the habit of saying 'hey,' my mom would warn me with this old adage. Being articulate is one of the keys to succeeding in a world filled with "likes" and "ums". Nothing sets you apart from a crowd more than being able to clearly voice your opinions and convictions. And nothing sets you apart from a crowd-in a much less positive way-as stumbling confusedly over your words. My mom realized this and, perhaps unknowingly, passed this message on to me through her advice.
The thing about advice is, it is so much easier to give than to receive. Towards the end of eighth grade, a panel of teachers held try-outs to select students to speak at our 8th grade graduation ceremony. Confident that I had something significant to say about our experiences, I tried out and was selected (along with one of my classmates, Matt) to speak before my fellow eighth grade class, their parents and relatives, and our teachers.
Matt and I went after school everyday afterschool to practice our speeches with the middle school drama teacher. "Magnifico!" she would proudly declare as I finished my speech. After making a few tweaks and adjustments, she had me sit down and began to work on Matt's speech. Not as comfortable with sharing his wonderfully written speech out loud, Matt stuttered and quaked at first. But, with practice, he improved. My drama teacher and I sat on opposite sides of the room and gave him pointers on how to make it feel like you are addressing everyone in the room. "You don't have to look us in the eyes," I said, "just look right above our heads. You won't feel as nervous and we will feel like you are directing every word to each of us individually." Before long, my drama teacher told Matt, "Magnifico!" and we had graduated her crash course on speeches.
But the actual graduation was a much different affair. Matt's speech was delivered perfectly just as he had practiced so many times before. Just like my drama teacher and I had advised him to, he spoke directly to each person in the audience and paused for emphasis at the right moments. When my turn came up though, I was shocked to see how many faces were gazing up at me on my small podium. I leaned toward the mike, which made a squeaking noise as I tried to begin. Somehow I got through the speech. Not until the end of the speech did I finally feel comfortable and confident on the podium. Reciting the familiar lines reminded me of the lessons which I had previously imparted to Matt. I stood up straighter, spoke slower, and projected my carefully prepared message out to my peers and their relatives. But most importantly, the words I spoke were concise and clear. Heeding my mother's advice, I remained formal yet personal by avoiding slang but interjecting metaphors involving memories from our middle school years. The applause and congratulation which greeted me at the end convinced me my speech had been successful.
So I won't insist the advice I has been given left me a perfectly prepared and well-adjusted individual. But it taught me three important lessons: I have to accept my own advice, I must understand myself in order to make others understand me, and the interjection 'hey' must never be employed for fear of having it confused with the yellow mulch loved by grazing horses.
"Hay is for horses." So taught my great-grandmother to my mother and my mother to me. Though it may not seem on the surface to be significant or life changing advice, it taught me a lot. Whenever I fell back into the habit of saying 'hey,' my mom would warn me with this old adage. Being articulate is one of the keys to succeeding in a world filled with "likes" and "ums". Nothing sets you apart from a crowd more than being able to clearly voice your opinions and convictions. And nothing sets you apart from a crowd-in a much less positive way-as stumbling confusedly over your words. My mom realized this and, perhaps unknowingly, passed this message on to me through her advice.
The thing about advice is, it is so much easier to give than to receive. Towards the end of eighth grade, a panel of teachers held try-outs to select students to speak at our 8th grade graduation ceremony. Confident that I had something significant to say about our experiences, I tried out and was selected (along with one of my classmates, Matt) to speak before my fellow eighth grade class, their parents and relatives, and our teachers.
Matt and I went after school everyday afterschool to practice our speeches with the middle school drama teacher. "Magnifico!" she would proudly declare as I finished my speech. After making a few tweaks and adjustments, she had me sit down and began to work on Matt's speech. Not as comfortable with sharing his wonderfully written speech out loud, Matt stuttered and quaked at first. But, with practice, he improved. My drama teacher and I sat on opposite sides of the room and gave him pointers on how to make it feel like you are addressing everyone in the room. "You don't have to look us in the eyes," I said, "just look right above our heads. You won't feel as nervous and we will feel like you are directing every word to each of us individually." Before long, my drama teacher told Matt, "Magnifico!" and we had graduated her crash course on speeches.
But the actual graduation was a much different affair. Matt's speech was delivered perfectly just as he had practiced so many times before. Just like my drama teacher and I had advised him to, he spoke directly to each person in the audience and paused for emphasis at the right moments. When my turn came up though, I was shocked to see how many faces were gazing up at me on my small podium. I leaned toward the mike, which made a squeaking noise as I tried to begin. Somehow I got through the speech. Not until the end of the speech did I finally feel comfortable and confident on the podium. Reciting the familiar lines reminded me of the lessons which I had previously imparted to Matt. I stood up straighter, spoke slower, and projected my carefully prepared message out to my peers and their relatives. But most importantly, the words I spoke were concise and clear. Heeding my mother's advice, I remained formal yet personal by avoiding slang but interjecting metaphors involving memories from our middle school years. The applause and congratulation which greeted me at the end convinced me my speech had been successful.
So I won't insist the advice I has been given left me a perfectly prepared and well-adjusted individual. But it taught me three important lessons: I have to accept my own advice, I must understand myself in order to make others understand me, and the interjection 'hey' must never be employed for fear of having it confused with the yellow mulch loved by grazing horses.
