Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.
or
A range of academic interests, personal perspectives, and life experiences adds much to the educational mix. Given your personal background, describe an experience that illustrates what you would bring to the diversity in a college community, or an encounter that demonstrated the importance of diversity to you.
Hidden away in a dust covered album lies a snapshot of a five year-old girl; starry-eyed with large Mickey Mouse slippers, lopsided pigtails and smile that seemed to stretch across her face, patiently waiting by a rusted screen door. Makeshift crayola Christmas cards littered the floor beneath her feet and in the distance; a dimly lit plastic pine tree is leaned against a weakening windowsill for support. All those who saw the image assumed the girl was waiting for Santa Claus to come bursting through the door armed with presents, however, ever year (for the next eight years), hesitant glances slid from the door to the clock in anticipation for her mother's arrival. At a very young age, she was told that if she wanted something bad enough, all she had to do was work hard and wish for, and it would come true. Letters to Santa, amazing grades, and great behavior were obviously getting her nowhere; for she wished for the same thing every year. If it came true, her single mother would no longer have to break promises, work over time on holidays, or forget to say I love you. However, because of years of unintentional neglect; a determined, mature, and diverse young woman emerged from that naïve little girl.
Every year after that picture was taken, a new one replaced it. Naturally, things began to change. The plastic tree grew, the lights brightened but the exuberant smile faded, much like the rust colored edges of the album itself. For the first thirteen years of my life, I lived through the pages fairytales. I found solace in fiction for it allowed me to escape from the world I was constantly been rejected from. As an only child, the words lonely and selfish constantly correlated with the title. Without a second glance, attributes of my personality and behavior instantly became associated with the misfortune of being born to a single mother who decided she did not want to have any more children. My mother's love was unconditional but unfortunately, her attention was not. As a young woman who wanted to balance finishing her education while also raising a child, I was frequently placed behind schoolwork and her career. She wanted to create a better future for me but in order to do so; she made horrendous sacrifices that ultimately affected both of our lives. From the age of eight, I was trusted to remain home alone while she attended school. While other children called me spoiled and bratty, I glared at them behind tear clouded eyes at every family event in which parents or siblings were invited. No one was there to smile at when I received awards or brought home star bearing spelling test. Because of that, anger and resentment towards my peers was not uncommon. I realized I hated every one of them long before I graduated from elementary and middle school. They did not understand the extents in which I had to push myself to in order to gain my mother's attention. There was no older sister or brother before me to teach her how to raise me nor was there any for me to learn from. Growing up in an environment where things that are uncommon are ostracized forced me to stretch open arms out to all those who would reach back. I vowed to smother the resentment I harbored for my mother and become more out-going after my thirteenth Christmas waiting by the door. My anger, if anything, not only broke the shield I tried to hide behind, but also prompted me to become more social and strive to participate in various activities.
When I entered high school, my fascination strayed from fiction to real life issues like political and economic battles that occurred around the nation and the world. After being on the school newspaper for my sophomore year, I was given the opportunity to move up and become Editor in Chief, which I accepted. With becoming a more prominent figure within the press, I took on more responsibilities and challenges such as becoming more involved, being more open to others opinions, and realizing what I wanted to be in the future. Writing was an escape, and I used it as often as I could. Because I was on the schools newspaper, I was able to participate in various events and social functions. For example, during my time as a writer, I was able to contact the Chief of Police and question him about rape cases going around in my schools community. Instances like this happened very often; because I acquired great writing skills, I was often chosen to report on heavy and controversial issues. I realized early on that the freedom of expression could either be valued or disregarded. It can be either accepted or rejected, and with knowing that, it allows writers like me to build confidence and perseverance in getting the truth out. If there is one thing I have learned from being able to publish my opinions, its tolerance. I had to learn to accept others views on my thoughts just as I have to learned to appreciate theirs. When I wrote, it allowed me to free myself without fear of judgment, persecution or vulnerability. The experience and exposure to different opinions expanded my knowledge and equipped me with important tools I need to venture out into the world.
I feel very proud of the student publication I help manage and run. Being able to look over and effect change within my school and my community not only changes my outlook on life but also inspires me to be a better and stronger person. Those two things were what I truly needed in my life, for support at home had been lacking a long time. Journalism helped me realize the value of words and through volunteering at a shelter, for both an article and community service, I braved a conversation with my mother. Although I could never truly understand what many of the kids in the shelter were going through, I tried my hardest to give the best advice I could. Helping them overcome their fears ultimately prompted me to address my own. It felt wrong telling teenagers to be strong in life threatening situations when I knew I could go home to a warm bed and clean sheets, but still be a stranger. I finally explained to my mother why I hated Christmas and allowed my childhood albums to collect dust in a corner. We were sitting together and crying when the frozen snapshot of my five-year-old smiling face caught our attention. Brushing the dust off the photograph, we stared at the starry eye'd little girl in fascination, understanding how much I had truly changed. I was no longer the naïve and self-conscious girl who waited for her mother to come home on Christmas Eve or a shy preteen who allowed other children to call her names because she didn't know how to defend herself. I became dedicated and out-going, selfless and determined, friendly and approachable. To this day, I am the girl who puts ice in her cereal, talks to strangers who look like they are having a bad day, and introduces herself in third person just to make someone smile.
Being an only child, despite the negative connotation, made me the ambitious and determined young woman I am today. I may be stubborn and occasionally selfish, but I am forever dedicated to change and diversity. Everyone has a story, and if being alone for 17 years has taught me anything, it is the value of a few words and the will power to persevere under any circumstance. There are many things I will never understand, but I do know that despite my hardships, being alone was not necessarily a bad thing. It allowed me to appreciate different ways of life; people, opinions, cultures, races, foods, traditions, and values. In spite of her absence, that alone was the greatest gift my mother could have ever given to me.
...diverse young woman emerged from that naïve little girl.---- a woman can't emerge from a little girl. You should say ...young woman appeared in place of that naïve little girl.
The plastic tree grew, and the lights brightened , but that exuberant smile faded, much like the rust colored edges of the album itself.
As I continue to read this, it makes me worry that the AO reader might perceive this essay as the rant of a teenager who is having "typical" teenage rebellion. I do NOT mean to suggest that I think you are wrong; your mother could be every bit as negligent as you describe her to be, for all I know. But when you write, "her single mother would no longer have to break promises, work over time on holidays..." it seems clear that your single mother is struggling quite a bit, too. Nobody likes to work overtime on holidays.
Worst case scenario, you will seem to the reader like a teenager who lacks emotional intelligence. Bast case scenario, you will only look like someone who does not have very much compassion. You have to be hurting quite a bit to make your mother's negligence the subject of this kind of essay. Just as you would not try to make a god impression on a new acquaintance by speaking badly about someone, you will have trouble making a good impression on the AO by speaking badly about someone. Anytime you hear someone give a one-sided version of a story coupled with negative remarks about the other person involved, it makes you have to feel skeptical, and maybe even uncomfortable.
I think you should try to express compassion in this essay; compassion is most impressive, because it reflects wisdom.
