I'm not sure if my essay makes sense or gets across the pieces of my personality that I want to show. Please give me your thoughts and tell me what you get from reading this. I really appreciate it. Thanks!
No Need for a Cure
"Don't keep your hands in your pockets" he said "if you don't have them out, you'll land on your face when you trip." Thanks. Thanks a lot for the advice dad, but am I really so clumsy that I can't put my hands in my pockets when I walk? Well...
Okay, I confess. I lack coordination and have an interesting sense of balance that people have come to know me by. Three years ago, however, I would have refused to admit it because I had not come to terms who I am. Back then, my clumsiness was shameful and every misstep that left me sprawled across the ground turned my face tomato-red with embarrassment. It did not help that my witnesses were amused to see a frantic little girl scrambling to gather her fallen books with the words 'I want to disappear' written across her face. They laughed and I desperately wished to melt into the floor.
By the time I had made a fool of myself multiple times, I felt hopeless and afraid that the rest of my high school years would be wasted trying to hide my flaws. I wanted to be articulate, calm, composed-the way I envisioned a true high school student should be. I wanted to change and an opportunity presented itself to me.
"We're going to go see the Breakdancers at Hip Hop Club!" my friend Tiffany said enthusiastically. She dragged me to the cafeteria where they practiced and sat us down at a lunch table. The scene opened up before me as I watched as the Breakdancers smoothly perform intricate steps and movements. The balanced coolly on their hands and transitioned from one move to the other with grace. I was awed. They were everything I wanted to be; they were light on their feet, coordinated, and collected. Each of their movements flowed one into another and each dancer emulated his own rhythm and style confidently.
I gaped at them in amazement when Tiffany leaned over and whispered, "let's join the Hip Hop Club together." Suddenly it occurred to me, could this club be the cure to my klutziness? Could these dancers turn me into one of them? Questions, hopes, and fears clouded my mind but my thoughts were cut short when a member from the crew spotted us watching and approached. Jhon introduced himself and invited us to join the crew. I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and followed him over to the rest of the Breakdancers. At that moment, I made a resolution to throw out my clumsiness and become a flawless dancer with the aid of the crew.
"Let's get started," Jhon turned us, "we'll teach you 'the turtle' freeze first." With out even pausing, he placed both hands on the floor, kicked his feet up and balanced perfectly in the air for five seconds. I watched in horror as he showed us 'the turtle' knowing well that we were expected to try this balancing act next. Jhon got up and gave us a nod. Part of me wanted to run away frantically, but my purpose won out. I declared war on my lack of coordination and followed Jhon's example. I placed both hands on the floor, and kicked up. For a second, I was in the air and excitement raced through me as I thought 'I can do this!'
Then disaster struck as balance eluded me once again and my wrists gave out. Whatever excitement I had ended abruptly when gravity a took hold and planted my face into the straight into the ground. I lay on the floor full of shame and heard Jhon's footsteps approaching. I knew what was coming and anticipated the blow: he was going to tell me to leave the club because these smooth and confident dancers could never accept a klutz like me. I felt so naïve for hoping otherwise. He opened his mouth to speak:
"Are you okay?" he asked. I sat up immediately and did a double take. Where was the whole "klutzes aren't welcome here" speech? Where was the killer blow that would cut my ties to the club? Confused, I reluctantly told him the truth: I don't think I can do this--I'm clumsy, I have no balance, I...he cut my rant short.
"It's alright," he said laughing, "It happens to all of us, so don't worry about it. You can be clumsy and still learn to break dance if you practice. Hey, just be yourself." I stared at him blankly while his words processed and echoed in my head. He had a friendly laugh. It's alright, he had said. It's alright to be clumsy. It's alright to be myself. Suddenly my resolution seemed silly-I felt the blood rushing to my face as the realization hit me: I had let my clumsiness turn into self doubt and an automatic expectation of defeat. I looked back at the dancers and gradually noticed slight pauses in their routine. At first, I had taken these pauses to be a part of their style, but now I saw what was going on-these pauses were, as hard as it was to believe, their mistakes. I had not noticed them before because dancers had not let their mistakes get to them. They carried on, laughed, and practiced again and again until they perfected each movement instead of being embarrassed. This was the first time, anyone had ever told me I was fine the way I was and at once, I felt foolish for trying to get rid of my clumsiness. I finally saw that it wasn't my clumsiness that made others laugh; it was my own reaction to my spills-the self doubt, the self consciousness, the feeling of shame and embarrassment I let take over myself...I was tired of it.
The following week, I went back to Hip Hop Club-not to change myself but to be myself among the people I enjoyed learning from. My klutziness was no longer a condition I sought to cure and for the first time, I began to accept this trait as a part of my personality. I would learn to break dance because I wanted to-I was not going to quit because of some simple lack of coordination. I was not going to let my self doubt get the best of me. I felt sure that I was ready to live and move forward with my clumsiness.
With my mind set, I headed contently to the cafeteria with Tiffany, for the next meeting when, out of the blue, I stumbled dangerously over the leg of chair. Tiffany looked at me unsurprised.
"You're such a klutz." Tiffany joked gently. I shrugged and gave her a little smile, but I didn't deny it.
Your essay makes me like you. I can relate to it.
I see you as very candid, very sensitive, you have a sense of humor and you are very likeable. I also get this feeling that you are Asian and modest and slightly shy and not very sure of yourself. The danger of this essay lies in humility that could be interpreted as a lack of confidence or self pity. The majority of your essay paragraphs are focused on negative aspects of yourself. Even though you write this in retrospect at a point where you are no longer bothered by your klutziness (interesting word i never knew before :P), the focus of your essay seems to indicate that you still have a certain degree of preoccupation with it. Of course, I do like your early paragraphs because you write beautifully and tell an impelling story. But in interests of telling the colleges why they want you in their school, you may want to shorten that part and lengthen your reflection on what you have gained as result of this experience.
Good luck.
Three years ago, however, I would have refused to admit it because I had not come to terms with who I am.
They laughed, and I desperately wished to melt into the floor.
She dragged me to the cafeteria where they practiced, and sat us down at a lunch table.
They balanced coolly on their hands and transitioned from one move to the other with grace.
"Let's get started," Jhon told us, "we'll teach you 'the turtle' freeze first." Without even pausing, he placed both hands on the floor, kicked his feet up and balanced perfectly in the air for five seconds.
Whatever excitement I had, ended abruptly when gravity a took hold and planted my face straight into the ground.
This was the first time anyone had ever told me I was fine the way I was, and at once I felt foolish for trying to get rid of my clumsiness.
I was not going to let self doubt get the best of me.
You are a very good writer!
Good luck!
:)
