Hi guys, I'm a newcomer to the boards so please excuse my rudeness for asking you guys to review my work. I wanted some last minute feedback on this essay. I'm trying to fit this under the first prompt, Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
One day, after my dad came home with the mail, I found both of my parents jumping up and down by the kitchen. My mom was clenching a letter from Hunter College Elementary School as if it were a winning lottery ticket. That was the first and only time in my life that I had ever seen such a physically expressive response from my parents. Though my parents were ecstatic at my acceptance, I would soon experience the catch of placing into such a selective school.
Attending HCES entailed a membership to a "mammoth" community of forty-seven students. From the ages of five to twelve, those forty-seven children were the only people whom I knew apart from my family. My mother, perhaps enthralled with the idea of my place in this exclusive group, discouraged me from befriending kids from other schools saying that they were bad influences. I grew up oblivious to much of mainstream culture; at the age of thirteen, I was still clueless to who Avril Lavigne was.
My entry into Hunter High School was an awkward one. Pushing through the crowded locker hallway, I saw a circle of students all with matching shirts, shoes, pants. I rushed to a bathroom and was horrified by the mirror: I was wearing black dress pants, a bright yellow turtleneck, and gaudy Sketchers sneakers. Fashion sense was not something I had developed in elementary school. When the other students were talking about the latest episode of "Lost" or "Chappelle's Show" in homeroom, it was as if they were speaking another language.
For a while, I dreaded going to school ashamed of my social clumsiness. Why couldn't my parents have just sent me to any other public school? I borrowed the latest Eminem CD from my friend and began to watch MTV, I went to Macy's and filled bags with shirts that stretched down to my knees, and I started to play basketball in the courtyard. My parents told me I was acting ridiculous, but I had already decided that I would change everything about who I was. I suppose I tried to change everything, even the things I liked about my former self; the A's I used to get became B's, and I even received a C+ in a teacher evaluation.
Such things are to be expected... right? I believed that I would be happy with my new self, but I was internally conflicted. Even though I had changed my wardrobe, I couldn't change my personality. My friends still thought I was awkward in conversations-every one of my attempts at being witty was met with deadpan stares. Even though I played basketball every day and joined the middle school and junior varsity teams, I was never really good at the sport. One day, one of my classmates asked me if I was going to wear the same outfit for another year. I realized that this image I had created was a lie; I never really changed my identity but only masked it with baggy jeans and an air of rebelliousness.
Looking at who I am today, I realize that I can never return to the bungling, mismatched seventh grader I used to be. Through my lies, I have also forged another aspect of myself. I cannot rescind the two years I spent emulating the famous rappers on TV, but I also cannot forget the many years I spent reading Star Wars novels, playing video games, and developing a personality that others would consider "nerdy". My rebellion against my own personality did not cure my awkwardness, but it opened me up as an individual. Following trends and discovering new interests, I escaped the solitude that my sheltered life formed. I do not regret the façade I created because it allowed me to become a more rounded individual.
One day, after my dad came home with the mail, I found both of my parents jumping up and down by the kitchen. My mom was clenching a letter from Hunter College Elementary School as if it were a winning lottery ticket. That was the first and only time in my life that I had ever seen such a physically expressive response from my parents. Though my parents were ecstatic at my acceptance, I would soon experience the catch of placing into such a selective school.
Attending HCES entailed a membership to a "mammoth" community of forty-seven students. From the ages of five to twelve, those forty-seven children were the only people whom I knew apart from my family. My mother, perhaps enthralled with the idea of my place in this exclusive group, discouraged me from befriending kids from other schools saying that they were bad influences. I grew up oblivious to much of mainstream culture; at the age of thirteen, I was still clueless to who Avril Lavigne was.
My entry into Hunter High School was an awkward one. Pushing through the crowded locker hallway, I saw a circle of students all with matching shirts, shoes, pants. I rushed to a bathroom and was horrified by the mirror: I was wearing black dress pants, a bright yellow turtleneck, and gaudy Sketchers sneakers. Fashion sense was not something I had developed in elementary school. When the other students were talking about the latest episode of "Lost" or "Chappelle's Show" in homeroom, it was as if they were speaking another language.
For a while, I dreaded going to school ashamed of my social clumsiness. Why couldn't my parents have just sent me to any other public school? I borrowed the latest Eminem CD from my friend and began to watch MTV, I went to Macy's and filled bags with shirts that stretched down to my knees, and I started to play basketball in the courtyard. My parents told me I was acting ridiculous, but I had already decided that I would change everything about who I was. I suppose I tried to change everything, even the things I liked about my former self; the A's I used to get became B's, and I even received a C+ in a teacher evaluation.
Such things are to be expected... right? I believed that I would be happy with my new self, but I was internally conflicted. Even though I had changed my wardrobe, I couldn't change my personality. My friends still thought I was awkward in conversations-every one of my attempts at being witty was met with deadpan stares. Even though I played basketball every day and joined the middle school and junior varsity teams, I was never really good at the sport. One day, one of my classmates asked me if I was going to wear the same outfit for another year. I realized that this image I had created was a lie; I never really changed my identity but only masked it with baggy jeans and an air of rebelliousness.
Looking at who I am today, I realize that I can never return to the bungling, mismatched seventh grader I used to be. Through my lies, I have also forged another aspect of myself. I cannot rescind the two years I spent emulating the famous rappers on TV, but I also cannot forget the many years I spent reading Star Wars novels, playing video games, and developing a personality that others would consider "nerdy". My rebellion against my own personality did not cure my awkwardness, but it opened me up as an individual. Following trends and discovering new interests, I escaped the solitude that my sheltered life formed. I do not regret the façade I created because it allowed me to become a more rounded individual.