First draft of my QB biographical essay. It's very rough right now, and I still have like 150 more words to play with, so I have room for improvement in terms of elaboration and description. Any criticism, correction, or suggestion is appreciated!
Thirty-one different ice cream flavors available at Baskin Robbins. Fifteen different items on the dollar menu. Ten different restaurants offering a dollar menu. Coke, Pepsi, or Dr. Pepper? Wait, Coke Zero, Diet Coke, or the classic Coke?
Options are readily available in American society. At times, we're even bombarded with options. Freedom of choice is an inherent concept in America; it's so prevalent, in fact, that it can be for granted. As Americans, we're entitled to our freedom of choice, and society caters to that freedom. But while the freedom is always available, the reality is that for some the options do not always accompany it. Just imagine being limited to eating cheese slices and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast and lunch every day. Now expand that limited scope of options to scenarios and situations with a greater deal of importance (LIFE). Would it cause you to become jaded and resentful or would it result in a more efficient use of options that are available? It's a tough hypothetical to consider, but it's an even tougher hypothetical to endure. And my life can be characterized by this hypothetical.
During my first few weeks in America, my breakfast and lunch consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with cheese slices. On my second morning in the States, before the sun was even up, a job agent, who was an acquaintance of the person that brought my family to Rome, Georgia, knocked on our apartment door and informed my parents of a job opportunity at a chicken processing plant. My parents had to immediately seize the opportunity and began working that very morning, which left my brother, seventeen at the time, and I to fend for ourselves in the mornings and afternoon until we were enrolled in school. Thus, my journey in American began with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As life continued, my choices did not expand much. I was limited to Salvation Army clothing, sleeping in my parent's bedroom, and attending school in one of the more impoverished districts. My limited choices were not just within a materialistic realm, though. My elementary school did not offer gifted classes, so I began to create options for myself. My parents and I decided that I needed to move to a better endowed school that did offer gifted classes. In the third grade, I moved to a new school, which was out of my district, but that thanks to my high grades, I was allowed to attend. In school, I thrived, as I was quickly accepted into the gifted program. Attending a school in an affluent district also made me aware of the stark contrast between my socioeconomic condition and that of my new classmates. Even early on, I realized I did not have the same options and opportunities as my classmates. I wasn't able to attend the 4H camps, the educational trips around the state of Georgia, or even some of the Gifted field trips. Nevertheless, I didn't allow what I missed out on affect the opportunities I did have at my disposal, so I continued to excel in school. In an environment with limited options, I had to be efficient with the options I did have. While I did not have tutors or a parent that could be at home in the afternoons to help me with homework, in school, the playing field was level. I had access to the same teachers and curriculum as my peers, but I had to do more with it. The lack of options in my life also helped mold my mindset and personality. In relation to success, I've developed tunnel vision; I only envision myself excelling in everything I do, and the light at the end of the tunnel is personal success. Not succeeding has never been an option.
Oh, yeah, and I'm trying to find a way to allude to the PB&J without being cheesy or cliche.
Thirty-one different ice cream flavors available at Baskin Robbins. Fifteen different items on the dollar menu. Ten different restaurants offering a dollar menu. Coke, Pepsi, or Dr. Pepper? Wait, Coke Zero, Diet Coke, or the classic Coke?
Options are readily available in American society. At times, we're even bombarded with options. Freedom of choice is an inherent concept in America; it's so prevalent, in fact, that it can be for granted. As Americans, we're entitled to our freedom of choice, and society caters to that freedom. But while the freedom is always available, the reality is that for some the options do not always accompany it. Just imagine being limited to eating cheese slices and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast and lunch every day. Now expand that limited scope of options to scenarios and situations with a greater deal of importance (LIFE). Would it cause you to become jaded and resentful or would it result in a more efficient use of options that are available? It's a tough hypothetical to consider, but it's an even tougher hypothetical to endure. And my life can be characterized by this hypothetical.
During my first few weeks in America, my breakfast and lunch consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with cheese slices. On my second morning in the States, before the sun was even up, a job agent, who was an acquaintance of the person that brought my family to Rome, Georgia, knocked on our apartment door and informed my parents of a job opportunity at a chicken processing plant. My parents had to immediately seize the opportunity and began working that very morning, which left my brother, seventeen at the time, and I to fend for ourselves in the mornings and afternoon until we were enrolled in school. Thus, my journey in American began with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As life continued, my choices did not expand much. I was limited to Salvation Army clothing, sleeping in my parent's bedroom, and attending school in one of the more impoverished districts. My limited choices were not just within a materialistic realm, though. My elementary school did not offer gifted classes, so I began to create options for myself. My parents and I decided that I needed to move to a better endowed school that did offer gifted classes. In the third grade, I moved to a new school, which was out of my district, but that thanks to my high grades, I was allowed to attend. In school, I thrived, as I was quickly accepted into the gifted program. Attending a school in an affluent district also made me aware of the stark contrast between my socioeconomic condition and that of my new classmates. Even early on, I realized I did not have the same options and opportunities as my classmates. I wasn't able to attend the 4H camps, the educational trips around the state of Georgia, or even some of the Gifted field trips. Nevertheless, I didn't allow what I missed out on affect the opportunities I did have at my disposal, so I continued to excel in school. In an environment with limited options, I had to be efficient with the options I did have. While I did not have tutors or a parent that could be at home in the afternoons to help me with homework, in school, the playing field was level. I had access to the same teachers and curriculum as my peers, but I had to do more with it. The lack of options in my life also helped mold my mindset and personality. In relation to success, I've developed tunnel vision; I only envision myself excelling in everything I do, and the light at the end of the tunnel is personal success. Not succeeding has never been an option.
Oh, yeah, and I'm trying to find a way to allude to the PB&J without being cheesy or cliche.
