So I have tried numerous times to write essays for my Common Application, none of them being any good. I am afraid that this essay isn't enough about me, and that I'm telling, not showing. Please let me know what you all think. Thank you!!!
The Boys in the Basement, the Dogs in the Dining Room
By Marissa Neale
Whenever I invite a person to my house for the first time, I wait for The Look. At first, the guest casually enters the door, commenting on my mom's doll collection or the portraits of my sister and I. Then I watch as the visitor's features gently contort into an expression of surprise and later, a polite confusion. The Look usually remains for about five minutes until I can explain myself. For in my kitchen right now are five dachshunds, an Amazon parrot, and two twenty-year old boys that are not related to me, all eating pizza with my parents.
The first comment of most people consists of something similar to, "Wow, you have a lot of dogs." I smile and nod, for this is nothing new. Three out of the five dogs are originally mine. They are the three that I received after years of imploring my father. The other two, also known as the Oldie But Goodies, lived with my grandmother. However, after she past away this March, we inherited both the dogs. The bird was also my grandmother's, and when he is not preening or throwing seeds everywhere, he loudly calls for both crackers and my mother. So after I introduce people to my wiggling, yelping menagerie of animals, or Roxie, Sammy, Bella, Gizzie, Zarta, and Toby the Bird, most people understand why it is impossible to hear me on the telephone and why my clothes often smell suspiciously like dog. They are also why I wake up extra early to take them on walks. The Look, which would faintly reduce as I explain the pets, remains on the visitor's face as he or she whispers, pointing to the pajama clad figure, "But who are the boys?"
The pizza-eating, pajama-wearing boys are slightly more complicated to explain. My dad has taught history and government at the same school in the inner city for about twenty-five years. He has dreamed of opening an all-boys public high school because of the lack of support from families and the failing school system of Milwaukee. My dad has always tried his best to encourage his students to go to college and create a better future for themselves. Thus, I was introduced to the two boys, or as I know them, Kyarheio and Mikail. I met Kyarheio and Mikail after my dad got them hired at the same summer job as I worked at. They always worked very hard to earn money for their families and for their futures. However once they graduated from high school, they had no idea what to do. Neither could immediately afford college, and both had drastic family issues. Mikail had no family members remaining in the state, as his mother recently moved to Florida. Kyarheio's family members spent their time either in a gang or "borrowing" money from his bank account. Either way, both boys needed some guidance.
Imagine my surprise coming home to find the boys bringing their personal items into my house. I questioningly looked to my dad for answers, who simply said,
"They are going to be staying in our basement until they can get back on their feet."
The first night they spent with us was happy as they teasingly taught my sister and I how to play a videogame and we tried to teach them the dogs' names. However, this "honeymoon period" wouldn't last.
After two weeks, I wanted them gone. Having only a sister, I was not used the loud, unedited boisterousness that teenage boys bring. I had to share a bathroom with them and I would selfishly complain every time they wouldn't remove all their hair from the drain or leave the seat up. Then there was the basement. All of their stuff was carelessly thrown about and they constantly hogged the television. The basement had been my place. I had always watched television and worked on my homework down there whenever I needed some peace. Well, the peace was shattered as they played loud rap music, and it smelled overwhelmingly like cheap cologne. I beseeched my dad to make them leave. Unmoved my trivial complaints, he refused and reprimanded me to be nice.
Despite my original complaints, Kyarheio and Mikail have lived with us for almost two years and now I couldn't imagine my life without them. We figured out the bathroom glitch and they clean up after themselves now. I still have to deal with the smell because, like most teenage boys, they do not understand that a little goes a long way. The both have full-time jobs and are saving up money so that they can attend college. But most importantly, they are part of my family now. I know that they are completely dependable and will always help me if I need it.
Now that I am content with the boys living in my house, it is very interesting to see other people's reaction. Whenever we do things as a family, I can never believe the shocked, sometimes horrified expressions of other people. Most of my friends do not understand why Kyarheio and Mikail live with us. They believe that the boys are taking advantage of us. I disagree. I believe that families come in all shapes and sizes, and do not necessarily have to biological.
The Look drops off the visitor's face and changes into complete shock as I answer the question of the boys' identity.
"They are my brothers," I say, and this feels completely true.
Kyarheio and Mikail moving in have taught me so much about tolerance, patience, and mostly, about love. Because of my parents' overwhelming generosity, I know that two more people in this world will have chance for a hopeful future.
The Boys in the Basement, the Dogs in the Dining Room
By Marissa Neale
Whenever I invite a person to my house for the first time, I wait for The Look. At first, the guest casually enters the door, commenting on my mom's doll collection or the portraits of my sister and I. Then I watch as the visitor's features gently contort into an expression of surprise and later, a polite confusion. The Look usually remains for about five minutes until I can explain myself. For in my kitchen right now are five dachshunds, an Amazon parrot, and two twenty-year old boys that are not related to me, all eating pizza with my parents.
The first comment of most people consists of something similar to, "Wow, you have a lot of dogs." I smile and nod, for this is nothing new. Three out of the five dogs are originally mine. They are the three that I received after years of imploring my father. The other two, also known as the Oldie But Goodies, lived with my grandmother. However, after she past away this March, we inherited both the dogs. The bird was also my grandmother's, and when he is not preening or throwing seeds everywhere, he loudly calls for both crackers and my mother. So after I introduce people to my wiggling, yelping menagerie of animals, or Roxie, Sammy, Bella, Gizzie, Zarta, and Toby the Bird, most people understand why it is impossible to hear me on the telephone and why my clothes often smell suspiciously like dog. They are also why I wake up extra early to take them on walks. The Look, which would faintly reduce as I explain the pets, remains on the visitor's face as he or she whispers, pointing to the pajama clad figure, "But who are the boys?"
The pizza-eating, pajama-wearing boys are slightly more complicated to explain. My dad has taught history and government at the same school in the inner city for about twenty-five years. He has dreamed of opening an all-boys public high school because of the lack of support from families and the failing school system of Milwaukee. My dad has always tried his best to encourage his students to go to college and create a better future for themselves. Thus, I was introduced to the two boys, or as I know them, Kyarheio and Mikail. I met Kyarheio and Mikail after my dad got them hired at the same summer job as I worked at. They always worked very hard to earn money for their families and for their futures. However once they graduated from high school, they had no idea what to do. Neither could immediately afford college, and both had drastic family issues. Mikail had no family members remaining in the state, as his mother recently moved to Florida. Kyarheio's family members spent their time either in a gang or "borrowing" money from his bank account. Either way, both boys needed some guidance.
Imagine my surprise coming home to find the boys bringing their personal items into my house. I questioningly looked to my dad for answers, who simply said,
"They are going to be staying in our basement until they can get back on their feet."
The first night they spent with us was happy as they teasingly taught my sister and I how to play a videogame and we tried to teach them the dogs' names. However, this "honeymoon period" wouldn't last.
After two weeks, I wanted them gone. Having only a sister, I was not used the loud, unedited boisterousness that teenage boys bring. I had to share a bathroom with them and I would selfishly complain every time they wouldn't remove all their hair from the drain or leave the seat up. Then there was the basement. All of their stuff was carelessly thrown about and they constantly hogged the television. The basement had been my place. I had always watched television and worked on my homework down there whenever I needed some peace. Well, the peace was shattered as they played loud rap music, and it smelled overwhelmingly like cheap cologne. I beseeched my dad to make them leave. Unmoved my trivial complaints, he refused and reprimanded me to be nice.
Despite my original complaints, Kyarheio and Mikail have lived with us for almost two years and now I couldn't imagine my life without them. We figured out the bathroom glitch and they clean up after themselves now. I still have to deal with the smell because, like most teenage boys, they do not understand that a little goes a long way. The both have full-time jobs and are saving up money so that they can attend college. But most importantly, they are part of my family now. I know that they are completely dependable and will always help me if I need it.
Now that I am content with the boys living in my house, it is very interesting to see other people's reaction. Whenever we do things as a family, I can never believe the shocked, sometimes horrified expressions of other people. Most of my friends do not understand why Kyarheio and Mikail live with us. They believe that the boys are taking advantage of us. I disagree. I believe that families come in all shapes and sizes, and do not necessarily have to biological.
The Look drops off the visitor's face and changes into complete shock as I answer the question of the boys' identity.
"They are my brothers," I say, and this feels completely true.
Kyarheio and Mikail moving in have taught me so much about tolerance, patience, and mostly, about love. Because of my parents' overwhelming generosity, I know that two more people in this world will have chance for a hopeful future.