This is a rough draft of my common app essay. I am answering the- when was your transition into adulthood prompt. I think that my story is funny and unique, but I am just curious if I have enough reflection on my experience, and if the wording makes sense because I tend to be pretty verbose. I wouldn't mind grammatical feedback either.
To say that I saw the last leaves falling off of the tree outside of my bedroom window that morning as an ominous sign of the fateful day to come would not be true. As far as eight-year-old Hannah was concerned, this day began just like any other autumn day would. The warm sunlight that streamed through those now empty branches told me that crunchy and crinkly piles of leaves and Halloween candies were not far off, but for now, it was just a regular school day.
My gentle morning was interrupted when mother burst through my door-"Rise and Shine!" she crooned. Her pajamas were still on, and the bun on top of her head wobbled wildly as she thrust a wrapped package into my arms. Presents were another fantastic, crinkly part of fall, because, for the brief moment right before I tore through the wrapping paper, the present could be anything, a feeling just as promising as the fall days to come. I was now wide awake and my mind started to race as I imagined sacks of Halloween candy, toys, stuffed animals and all of the wonderful things that could be inside of that package. My mother could not wait a second longer for me to open that package. She grabbed the package out of my hands, and in a flash of red, unfolded it before me.
Pants.
Corduroy pants.
I could feel the smile fall from my face as I looked over those pants. They were not just any corduroy pants. They were red corduroy pants. Fire engine red corduroy pants. Visible-from-fifty-miles-away red corduroy pants- and if you happened to be fifty miles closer, you would notice the tiny yellow acorns littered across every available inch of fabric. My mother's excitement about this autumnal abomination must have blinded her from my uneasy gaze. She ran to my closet and returned those pants along with a canary yellow turtleneck, a pair of bright white sneakers, and the assurance that I would be the most fashionable girl at school. At that moment, as I held those pants in my hands and looked up to her beaming, confident, face, all I could do was sigh and resign myself to the fact that she knew better than me anyway. With that, I went to school.
My day started on the playground where I met up with my friends. I walked up behind them, and their heads whipped around simultaneously to witness the fashion-disaster that stood before them. My best friend, wearing and effortlessly stylish outfit complete with normal pants, took in my homage to the oak tree with an inquisitive eye and a cocked head.
"Those pants are...Interesting" she said. Oblivious to her sarcasm, I mumbled a thank-you. "It's too bad we don't have room in our game for acorns today." Then, my friends skipped off before I could respond, let alone process what had just happened.
I learned a lot that day: about my mother, my friends, myself, and adulthood. That was the first day I realized that my mother was not always right. She was a regular person with questionable opinions, just like my so-called friends. I could not condemn my mother for her actions, but my friends, who excluded me over a pair of pants, were no longer people I wanted to associate with. Above all, that day, I realized that I too was a regular person with an opinion worth sharing. I had reached the age where I could have a say in my life. I recognize the importance of collaboration, but in the end, I need to agree with everything I do to be truly happy. The kind of independence and self respect that I learned that day does not just mark my transition into adulthood, but into a genuine person who realizes that if I just be myself, I cannot go wrong.
To say that I saw the last leaves falling off of the tree outside of my bedroom window that morning as an ominous sign of the fateful day to come would not be true. As far as eight-year-old Hannah was concerned, this day began just like any other autumn day would. The warm sunlight that streamed through those now empty branches told me that crunchy and crinkly piles of leaves and Halloween candies were not far off, but for now, it was just a regular school day.
My gentle morning was interrupted when mother burst through my door-"Rise and Shine!" she crooned. Her pajamas were still on, and the bun on top of her head wobbled wildly as she thrust a wrapped package into my arms. Presents were another fantastic, crinkly part of fall, because, for the brief moment right before I tore through the wrapping paper, the present could be anything, a feeling just as promising as the fall days to come. I was now wide awake and my mind started to race as I imagined sacks of Halloween candy, toys, stuffed animals and all of the wonderful things that could be inside of that package. My mother could not wait a second longer for me to open that package. She grabbed the package out of my hands, and in a flash of red, unfolded it before me.
Pants.
Corduroy pants.
I could feel the smile fall from my face as I looked over those pants. They were not just any corduroy pants. They were red corduroy pants. Fire engine red corduroy pants. Visible-from-fifty-miles-away red corduroy pants- and if you happened to be fifty miles closer, you would notice the tiny yellow acorns littered across every available inch of fabric. My mother's excitement about this autumnal abomination must have blinded her from my uneasy gaze. She ran to my closet and returned those pants along with a canary yellow turtleneck, a pair of bright white sneakers, and the assurance that I would be the most fashionable girl at school. At that moment, as I held those pants in my hands and looked up to her beaming, confident, face, all I could do was sigh and resign myself to the fact that she knew better than me anyway. With that, I went to school.
My day started on the playground where I met up with my friends. I walked up behind them, and their heads whipped around simultaneously to witness the fashion-disaster that stood before them. My best friend, wearing and effortlessly stylish outfit complete with normal pants, took in my homage to the oak tree with an inquisitive eye and a cocked head.
"Those pants are...Interesting" she said. Oblivious to her sarcasm, I mumbled a thank-you. "It's too bad we don't have room in our game for acorns today." Then, my friends skipped off before I could respond, let alone process what had just happened.
I learned a lot that day: about my mother, my friends, myself, and adulthood. That was the first day I realized that my mother was not always right. She was a regular person with questionable opinions, just like my so-called friends. I could not condemn my mother for her actions, but my friends, who excluded me over a pair of pants, were no longer people I wanted to associate with. Above all, that day, I realized that I too was a regular person with an opinion worth sharing. I had reached the age where I could have a say in my life. I recognize the importance of collaboration, but in the end, I need to agree with everything I do to be truly happy. The kind of independence and self respect that I learned that day does not just mark my transition into adulthood, but into a genuine person who realizes that if I just be myself, I cannot go wrong.
