Hi! I'm finishing up my essays for the University of Texas application, and I'm looking for as many critiques over my first essay as I can! The prompt is to talk about how someone has made an impact on my life, and explain how and why they're important to me.
My grandmother could be described as an amazing teacher, a ridiculously forgetful woman, a fierce cancer survivor, a devoted Christian. To me, however, she's simply 'Granka'; the product of a toddler's inability to pronounce 'Grandma'. There's no defining factor in our relationship. Not the times she slipped in late at night and told me stories from her childhood. Not the time she laughed so hard she cried when, as a ten year old, I pronounced 'conspicuous' incorrectly. Not the time, in an HEB parking lot, that she cried and told me she prayed for me every night. Not the time when, over a Skype connection, she told me she was fighting breast cancer. Not the time she told me she'd won her battle. She's the one person in my life who cannot be defined by a single moment.
My grandmother the teacher has worked in her church's preschool since before I was born. I can recall running through her classroom onto the playground, rollerblading through the hallways (and attempting to go up the stairs), and playing basketball in the musty gym. But none of those memories hold as much significance as her holding me and reading to me, or playing car games that involved states and maps and capital cities.
My grandmother is so forgetful she's forgotten my birthday. She's called to give me her well wishes entire months early, confused mine with my mother's, and even showed up to my birthday party a few hours late, because she'd forgotten it all together. But for all the missed birthdays, forgotten tickets, and difficulty remembering my phone number (or remembering how to put said number into her phone contacts), she's always been there, supporting me at every recital, performance, or game. She may forget the unimportant things like dates, or bits of printed paper, but she's never had difficulty remembering to support me; she doesn't need to remember, she just does.
My grandmother the cancer survivor didn't make a production of her fight. She barely mentioned it, and certainly didn't attempt to discuss it at lengths with me. During her treatment, all of our interactions were joyful, and normal. She protected me from the darker side of her life, and in return, I tried to bring happiness back into it. Through her fight, and win, against cancer, she taught me too much for words. She taught me how to be strong, and independent, but she also taught me how to live against adversity.
My grandmother the Christian is full of prayer and devotion, with church every Sunday, and bible readings every morning. She would classify her relationship with God as a defining factor of her character. I would define it as the largest diving factor between us, as well as the most unifying. From a young age, I haven't had a close connection with religion, or God. This barrier only grew until it morphed into my agnosticism. Unfortunately, this greatly separated my and my grandmother's beliefs. She has no idea how I can function morally and righteously without her lord and savior, while I cannot comprehend why I need her God to live a good, healthy life. My religion, or lack thereof, has always been a point of contention between us. However, through our arguments and heated discussions, she's taught me something I'll always live with; how to respect other people's opinions, as well as how to defend my own. This appreciation for other viewpoints is the greatest impact she's had on me, and I'll use the knowledge and experience she's given me forever.
While I can't define a single moment between my grandmother and me, she's the only person I can think about who has truly shaped me. She's helped me grow into the person I am today, and I'll always be thankful for her guidance and inspiration.
My grandmother could be described as an amazing teacher, a ridiculously forgetful woman, a fierce cancer survivor, a devoted Christian. To me, however, she's simply 'Granka'; the product of a toddler's inability to pronounce 'Grandma'. There's no defining factor in our relationship. Not the times she slipped in late at night and told me stories from her childhood. Not the time she laughed so hard she cried when, as a ten year old, I pronounced 'conspicuous' incorrectly. Not the time, in an HEB parking lot, that she cried and told me she prayed for me every night. Not the time when, over a Skype connection, she told me she was fighting breast cancer. Not the time she told me she'd won her battle. She's the one person in my life who cannot be defined by a single moment.
My grandmother the teacher has worked in her church's preschool since before I was born. I can recall running through her classroom onto the playground, rollerblading through the hallways (and attempting to go up the stairs), and playing basketball in the musty gym. But none of those memories hold as much significance as her holding me and reading to me, or playing car games that involved states and maps and capital cities.
My grandmother is so forgetful she's forgotten my birthday. She's called to give me her well wishes entire months early, confused mine with my mother's, and even showed up to my birthday party a few hours late, because she'd forgotten it all together. But for all the missed birthdays, forgotten tickets, and difficulty remembering my phone number (or remembering how to put said number into her phone contacts), she's always been there, supporting me at every recital, performance, or game. She may forget the unimportant things like dates, or bits of printed paper, but she's never had difficulty remembering to support me; she doesn't need to remember, she just does.
My grandmother the cancer survivor didn't make a production of her fight. She barely mentioned it, and certainly didn't attempt to discuss it at lengths with me. During her treatment, all of our interactions were joyful, and normal. She protected me from the darker side of her life, and in return, I tried to bring happiness back into it. Through her fight, and win, against cancer, she taught me too much for words. She taught me how to be strong, and independent, but she also taught me how to live against adversity.
My grandmother the Christian is full of prayer and devotion, with church every Sunday, and bible readings every morning. She would classify her relationship with God as a defining factor of her character. I would define it as the largest diving factor between us, as well as the most unifying. From a young age, I haven't had a close connection with religion, or God. This barrier only grew until it morphed into my agnosticism. Unfortunately, this greatly separated my and my grandmother's beliefs. She has no idea how I can function morally and righteously without her lord and savior, while I cannot comprehend why I need her God to live a good, healthy life. My religion, or lack thereof, has always been a point of contention between us. However, through our arguments and heated discussions, she's taught me something I'll always live with; how to respect other people's opinions, as well as how to defend my own. This appreciation for other viewpoints is the greatest impact she's had on me, and I'll use the knowledge and experience she's given me forever.
While I can't define a single moment between my grandmother and me, she's the only person I can think about who has truly shaped me. She's helped me grow into the person I am today, and I'll always be thankful for her guidance and inspiration.
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