Hi guys, I'm stressing out about my essay so I wrote another common app essay. Please help me correct and edit this. and be blunt! THanks! Please tell me if it reflects who I am enough
Dancing Clams
I stared down at my bowl of translucent, flavorless clam soup. "This was alive before?" My mom, after glancing at my wide eyes, hesitated, but nodded. Moments earlier, I had poked at the soup, making ripples in the liquid but uninterested in tasting it, until I noticed features on the soft, fleshy texture inside the clam. There were two small circles looked like eyes, pointing upward. At the young of five, I had already begun to have a constant flow of questions .Why did our food look like it had eyes? I asked my mom if it breathed. I thought that only humans like me were able to breathe and have feelings. I almost felt as if I was the clam...being shoved into someone's soup
"Well...it was probably alive before, but not anymore," she said. "We eat things that have feelings?!" I pointed at a dish with a chunky stew. "Is that alive too?" My mom tried to tell me that beef was meant to be eaten, but it was too late. Images of clams dancing around each other with wide smiles filled my mind. A baby clam with a mommy clam laughing with each other. Was this clam in my soup separated from its mother? The pictures in my mind made me pity the clam achingly, because I couldn't bear to be taken away from my mom. I refused to eat the rest of my dinner; I sat silently, glaring at the other customers in the restaurant; did they know what they were eating?
As time went on, the sensitivity and attention to detail I had as a little girl continued to be part of me. I could imagine and identify with another's emotions so deeply that my parents could not take me near an animal shelter because I would simply burst into tears. By the time I was in fifth grade, I had convinced my parents to allow me to try vegetarianism. These ideas eventually led me to develop empathy for not only animals, but the world surrounding me. Whatever situation I come into, I always examine it from everyone's perspective and choose an action that benefit positively.
One early winter morning in seventh grade, a lone girl wearing an unsightly bright orange pantsuit entered the room and sat down. Whispers arose from the room as we wondered who she was and why she was here. When the teacher asked her to introduce herself, she slowly stood up beside her desk and whispered in a light tilt, "My name is Talitha; I just arrived from India last week." She stood up from her seat every time the teacher addressed her. A boy behind her deliberately moved his desk farther away from her and even though she tried to ignore it, I knew she was hurt. I knew what it was like to be in an unfriendly and new environment after changing to international school for a few years because of my dad's business. During recess, a few girls cruelly imitated her accent and asked her where she got her orange jacket because they thought it was just "so cute." I felt my stomach churn at their spitefulness and refusals to neither accept nor tolerate her. When the teacher asked someone to take her to her bus at the end of the day, I immediately volunteered. On our way out, I asked her about her interests and hobbies and shared some information about the activities at our school. Although she was reluctant to talk at first, she eventually opened up to me after a few days and because I kept trying to include her in my own friend group, we eventually became close friends.
Carrying this empathy to my future, I can only help society by my consistent desire to form bonds of validation with what others are experiencing. This strong emotion inspires me to take action and ultimately, make changes, big and small, to better the future for us and those after us.
Dancing Clams
I stared down at my bowl of translucent, flavorless clam soup. "This was alive before?" My mom, after glancing at my wide eyes, hesitated, but nodded. Moments earlier, I had poked at the soup, making ripples in the liquid but uninterested in tasting it, until I noticed features on the soft, fleshy texture inside the clam. There were two small circles looked like eyes, pointing upward. At the young of five, I had already begun to have a constant flow of questions .Why did our food look like it had eyes? I asked my mom if it breathed. I thought that only humans like me were able to breathe and have feelings. I almost felt as if I was the clam...being shoved into someone's soup
"Well...it was probably alive before, but not anymore," she said. "We eat things that have feelings?!" I pointed at a dish with a chunky stew. "Is that alive too?" My mom tried to tell me that beef was meant to be eaten, but it was too late. Images of clams dancing around each other with wide smiles filled my mind. A baby clam with a mommy clam laughing with each other. Was this clam in my soup separated from its mother? The pictures in my mind made me pity the clam achingly, because I couldn't bear to be taken away from my mom. I refused to eat the rest of my dinner; I sat silently, glaring at the other customers in the restaurant; did they know what they were eating?
As time went on, the sensitivity and attention to detail I had as a little girl continued to be part of me. I could imagine and identify with another's emotions so deeply that my parents could not take me near an animal shelter because I would simply burst into tears. By the time I was in fifth grade, I had convinced my parents to allow me to try vegetarianism. These ideas eventually led me to develop empathy for not only animals, but the world surrounding me. Whatever situation I come into, I always examine it from everyone's perspective and choose an action that benefit positively.
One early winter morning in seventh grade, a lone girl wearing an unsightly bright orange pantsuit entered the room and sat down. Whispers arose from the room as we wondered who she was and why she was here. When the teacher asked her to introduce herself, she slowly stood up beside her desk and whispered in a light tilt, "My name is Talitha; I just arrived from India last week." She stood up from her seat every time the teacher addressed her. A boy behind her deliberately moved his desk farther away from her and even though she tried to ignore it, I knew she was hurt. I knew what it was like to be in an unfriendly and new environment after changing to international school for a few years because of my dad's business. During recess, a few girls cruelly imitated her accent and asked her where she got her orange jacket because they thought it was just "so cute." I felt my stomach churn at their spitefulness and refusals to neither accept nor tolerate her. When the teacher asked someone to take her to her bus at the end of the day, I immediately volunteered. On our way out, I asked her about her interests and hobbies and shared some information about the activities at our school. Although she was reluctant to talk at first, she eventually opened up to me after a few days and because I kept trying to include her in my own friend group, we eventually became close friends.
Carrying this empathy to my future, I can only help society by my consistent desire to form bonds of validation with what others are experiencing. This strong emotion inspires me to take action and ultimately, make changes, big and small, to better the future for us and those after us.
