Hello all, I'm applying to Rice University as a Freshmen next fall. I have been trying to write college essays but I suck at them. This is an essay for the Common Application prompt which is: Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what lessons did you learn?
Please read it if you can, and give me feedback. I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you!!!
The childhood I had in Korea was not one with great memories; in a society highly judgmental about outward appearances, I, a chubby girl with pink Harry Potter glasses and a 'piggy nose' was a nice source of a joke to my peers. Elementary school was a place of tease, and I became more introverted. Since I didn't have many friends, I turned to inanimate things to spend my time with. Since then, drawing was my favorite hobby. Paper and crayons were my best friends.
Knowing my love for art, my parents let me attend an art academy. In there I learned how to draw with a pencil, color with watercolors and mix hues of acrylic paint. I dreamed of becoming an renowned artist that stood in a gallery full of her paintings and fans of her work.
When I came to study In America, at age 11, Art was the one constant that stayed through my academic career; partly because it made me happy, and partly because I felt that I would be a nobody if I didn't have this one thing I was good at.
I liked Art. I loved Art. I obsessed over art.
You would assume, that the years that I spent Art-ing would by now have made me one of the greatest artists at school. Sadly, you would be wrong. At seventeen years of age, I still wasn't very good at art. Even though until the first year of high school art was a hobby at most, I was always mad at myself. As I spent hours and hours stressing over better artists than myself, a realization dawned that I will never be as good as them. Sure, I was better than average. I could draw shapes and objects to a fair likeness. But was I really good, like scouted-from-Disney material? Not at all.
In school, art began to change. As I pushed myself to take more rigorous art classes in high school, art became a duty. I had to finish this sketch within a week. I had to get a plan graded by next Tuesday. When I took AP Drawing in my Junior year, everything started to fall apart. With five other AP classes to deal with, and my naturally slow pace, I was late in turning things in, and my grades were horrid. I disliked art more throughout the year, and with every graded artwork, I felt like a failure.
In a movie, I would have gotten a light bulb over my head, and bam. Ideas flowing, pencil working, I would finish a masterpiece in 2 hours and my failure as an artist would exist no more, ta-da, the end.
In reality, though, I had to accommodate to the fact that while art was a triangular hole, I was a circle. While I could try to fit perfectly in, I would never be able to fill the corners. The realization was a bitter pill to take, but in the end, I accepted that art was just a hobby. Art is just a friend that I went to in need of a break, not a duty that I am forced to do.
Even though all great things come with not giving up, in life there are some things that you know you had to let go of to an extent. Art was that for me. By letting go, I was less stressed, and my mentality was better off for it.
"What did you get on Art?" It was summer before 12th grade, and my friend was referring to my AP score.
I shrugged. "A three."
Immediately, a frown formed on my friend's face. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"
My smile, faint but growing, was genuine. "Oh, it's fine. I'm just a circle anyway."
Please read it if you can, and give me feedback. I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you!!!
The childhood I had in Korea was not one with great memories; in a society highly judgmental about outward appearances, I, a chubby girl with pink Harry Potter glasses and a 'piggy nose' was a nice source of a joke to my peers. Elementary school was a place of tease, and I became more introverted. Since I didn't have many friends, I turned to inanimate things to spend my time with. Since then, drawing was my favorite hobby. Paper and crayons were my best friends.
Knowing my love for art, my parents let me attend an art academy. In there I learned how to draw with a pencil, color with watercolors and mix hues of acrylic paint. I dreamed of becoming an renowned artist that stood in a gallery full of her paintings and fans of her work.
When I came to study In America, at age 11, Art was the one constant that stayed through my academic career; partly because it made me happy, and partly because I felt that I would be a nobody if I didn't have this one thing I was good at.
I liked Art. I loved Art. I obsessed over art.
You would assume, that the years that I spent Art-ing would by now have made me one of the greatest artists at school. Sadly, you would be wrong. At seventeen years of age, I still wasn't very good at art. Even though until the first year of high school art was a hobby at most, I was always mad at myself. As I spent hours and hours stressing over better artists than myself, a realization dawned that I will never be as good as them. Sure, I was better than average. I could draw shapes and objects to a fair likeness. But was I really good, like scouted-from-Disney material? Not at all.
In school, art began to change. As I pushed myself to take more rigorous art classes in high school, art became a duty. I had to finish this sketch within a week. I had to get a plan graded by next Tuesday. When I took AP Drawing in my Junior year, everything started to fall apart. With five other AP classes to deal with, and my naturally slow pace, I was late in turning things in, and my grades were horrid. I disliked art more throughout the year, and with every graded artwork, I felt like a failure.
In a movie, I would have gotten a light bulb over my head, and bam. Ideas flowing, pencil working, I would finish a masterpiece in 2 hours and my failure as an artist would exist no more, ta-da, the end.
In reality, though, I had to accommodate to the fact that while art was a triangular hole, I was a circle. While I could try to fit perfectly in, I would never be able to fill the corners. The realization was a bitter pill to take, but in the end, I accepted that art was just a hobby. Art is just a friend that I went to in need of a break, not a duty that I am forced to do.
Even though all great things come with not giving up, in life there are some things that you know you had to let go of to an extent. Art was that for me. By letting go, I was less stressed, and my mentality was better off for it.
"What did you get on Art?" It was summer before 12th grade, and my friend was referring to my AP score.
I shrugged. "A three."
Immediately, a frown formed on my friend's face. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"
My smile, faint but growing, was genuine. "Oh, it's fine. I'm just a circle anyway."