Hello everyone! I'm new to this forum and I hope I could receive some of your amazing help out there!
I know to post this personal statement at this moment in time and ask for opinions is kinda late in the application process but... well.. i admit it's my fault... but I could i could learn from this a be a time manager in the future!
anyways, this essay is 646 words and I was wondering if you could give me some opinions after having read it.
When I entered the classroom, the sound of children throwing the building blocks and banging on the toy house diminished as gazes fell upon me, one by one. As I walked past the children, they pulled the sides of their eyes and uttered nonsensical syllables ching chong. With eyes a bit watery, I looked up and smiled. A child came up to me and offered to play. And then I knew that I could find comfort in laughing back with them.
Born in Poland to Vietnamese parents I learned at the first day of kindergarten to recognize my black hair and small frame among a crowd of cherubic golden haired children. After that first daunting day, I blended in with children as if I'd always been one of them. The more time I spent playing with them the less often I saw them pull the sides of their eyes to imitate my almond shaped eyes. The more often I spoke Polish in front of them, the less often I heard them imitate the sound of my language. I started calling my parents "Mamusiu" and "Tatusiu", however, they always replied in Vietnamese. No matter how often I tried to develop the inner Polish in me, my parents always reminded me to follow the Vietnamese traditions at home. Eating pierogies with fork at school and poking the rice with chopsticks at home; I adopted the two cultures and oscillated between the them as the day breaks. Nevertheless, the comfort I habitually found vanished when I turned eight.
The confusion at the first day of school, once again, revisited me.Without prior preparation in French, I was enrolled in a French school in town. In class I scribbled down every word I could hear. At home, the voice of TV5MONDE news anchor and the music of Celine Dion filled the house as I tried to look up words from the notes I took in class and put them together to make sense of what the teacher said. By the time my parents got back from work, the TV was turned off and Celine Dion music was switched off. The smell of the steaming rice and the sound of Vietnamese folk songs once again dominated the house. Henceforth, the period between school and dinner became the time in which I practiced my language skills and enriched my cultural understanding. By the time I reached middle school, I thought and dreamt in French.
Yet as a preadolescent girl, I didn't want to be accepted because of my differences. I wanted to feel belonged because of the similarities I share with people. I decided to attend high school in America. Being already multicultured, I thought I could easily glide in the American culture, however,
I come from convervative European-Asian cultures, in which thoughts are kept to self; thus when I got there, the sudden outburst of welcomes and passionate expressions of one's belief baffled me. Sometimes what I am equipped with is not as important as how I deal with situations. In such a culturally diverse environment, the only way to let people know of your existance is to openly state your opinions. At first, I absorbed all the ideas shared and observed the manner in which they were said. Now, I share my opninions and defend them while paying close attention to the way I express them.
As much I love the American openness, every time I come home I go back to being the traditional Vietnamese daughter all over again. I adapt to each environment I'm in, whether it's conversing in French with friends, saying "hi" in Polish to my neighbors, talking about the past in Vietnamese with family, or writing an essay in English for school. Yet in me, it's always all the thoughts selected from each culture put together to form my own perspective at once.
Here is the essay with specific questions;
When I entered the classroom, the sound of children throwing the building blocks and banging on the toy house diminished as gazes fell upon me, one by one [is it okay to put "one by one" here?]. As I walked past the children, they pulled the sides of their eyes and uttered nonsensical syllables ching chong [is it evident that the children are trying to make fun of my eyes?]. With eyes a bit watery, I looked up and smiled. A child came up to me and offered to play [should i just say "a child came up and offered to play?] . And then I knew that I could find comfort in laughing back with them.
Born in Poland to Vietnamese parents I learned at the first day of kindergarten to recognize my black hair and small frame among a crowd of cherubic golden haired children. After that first daunting day, I blended in with children as if I'd always been one of them. The more time I spent playing with them the less often I saw them pull the sides of their eyes to imitate my almond shaped eyes. The more often I spoke Polish in front of them [is it awkward to say "speak in front of them"?], the less often I heard them imitate the sound of my language. I started calling my parents "Mamusiu" and "Tatusiu", however, they always replied in Vietnamese [is it obvious that I started speaking Polish to them? or should I explain it in the essay?]. No matter how often I tried to develop the inner Polish in me, my parents always reminded me to follow the Vietnamese traditions at home. Eating pierogies with fork at school and poking the rice with chopsticks at home [is this sentence a bit random? i wanted to put it here to evoke the cultural differences that i experienced]; I adopted the two cultures and oscillated between the them as the day breaks [i don't know how to describe this... is there an expression that indicates nightime changes to daytime and vice versa?]. Nevertheless, the comfort I habitually found vanished when I turned eight.
The confusion at the first day of school, once again, revisited me [awkward? revisited me?]. Without prior preparation in French, I was enrolled in a French school in town. In class I scribbled down every word I could hear. At home, the voice of TV5MONDE news anchor and the music of Celine Dion filled the house as I tried to look up words from the notes I took in class and put them together to make sense of what the teacher said [too long of a sentence?]. By the time my parents got back from work, the TV was turned off and Celine Dion music was switched off [is there a better way to avoid passive verbs and the verb to be in this sentence?]. The smell of the steaming rice and the sound of Vietnamese folk songs once again dominated the house. Henceforth, the period between school and dinner became the time in which I practiced my language skills and enriched my cultural understanding. By the time I reached middle school, I thought and dreamt in French.
Yet as a preadolescent girl, I didn't want to be accepted because of my differences. I wanted to feel belonged because of the similarities I share with people. I decided to attend high school in America [maybe a transition?]. Being already multicultured, I thought I could easily glide in the American culture [awkward? too figurative?], however,
I come from convervative European-Asian cultures, in which thoughts are kept to self; thus when I got there, the sudden outburst of welcomes and passionate expressions of one's belief baffled me [should I show instead of tell?]. Sometimes what I am equipped with is not as important as how I deal with situations [i'm not sure you get the meaning that i'm trying to convey here. it might seem a bit random]. In such a culturally diverse environment, the only way to let people know of your existance is to openly state your opinions. At first, I absorbed all the ideas shared and observed the manner in which they were said. Now, I share my opninions and defend them while paying close attention to the way I express them.
As much I love the American openness, every time I come home I go back to being the traditional Vietnamese daughter all over again. I adapt to each environment I'm in, whether it's conversing in French with friends, saying "hi" in Polish to my neighbors, talking about the past in Vietnamese with family, or writing an essay in English for school. Yet in me, it's always all the thoughts selected from each culture put together to form my own perspective at once.
additional questions:
- Is it okay to use contractions in a college essay?
- is it okay to use figurative language?
- what do you think of each paragraph in the essay? i think it's very hard to write about this topic in just 500 words, but i really want to let the admission officers know that multiculturalism is my strength. do you think that each example from each paragraph is convincing?
- the last concluding paragraph sounds a bit cliche. i was wondering if you get the idea that I adapt accordingly to each environment that i'm in yet in my head , it's all the cultures at once. i don't want to sound like someone who goes out and learn tons of stuff and then go back home not contributing anything...
- is the essay overall coherent?
- what can your learn about me when reading this essay?
- can you point out any grammatical errors? I'm really bad a recognizing grammar stuff.
sorry! there are a lot of questions and you don't have to answer all of them. It would be nice if each person addresses different questions and offers his/her
opinions when the answers differ.
Thank you SO MUCH!!
I know to post this personal statement at this moment in time and ask for opinions is kinda late in the application process but... well.. i admit it's my fault... but I could i could learn from this a be a time manager in the future!
anyways, this essay is 646 words and I was wondering if you could give me some opinions after having read it.
When I entered the classroom, the sound of children throwing the building blocks and banging on the toy house diminished as gazes fell upon me, one by one. As I walked past the children, they pulled the sides of their eyes and uttered nonsensical syllables ching chong. With eyes a bit watery, I looked up and smiled. A child came up to me and offered to play. And then I knew that I could find comfort in laughing back with them.
Born in Poland to Vietnamese parents I learned at the first day of kindergarten to recognize my black hair and small frame among a crowd of cherubic golden haired children. After that first daunting day, I blended in with children as if I'd always been one of them. The more time I spent playing with them the less often I saw them pull the sides of their eyes to imitate my almond shaped eyes. The more often I spoke Polish in front of them, the less often I heard them imitate the sound of my language. I started calling my parents "Mamusiu" and "Tatusiu", however, they always replied in Vietnamese. No matter how often I tried to develop the inner Polish in me, my parents always reminded me to follow the Vietnamese traditions at home. Eating pierogies with fork at school and poking the rice with chopsticks at home; I adopted the two cultures and oscillated between the them as the day breaks. Nevertheless, the comfort I habitually found vanished when I turned eight.
The confusion at the first day of school, once again, revisited me.Without prior preparation in French, I was enrolled in a French school in town. In class I scribbled down every word I could hear. At home, the voice of TV5MONDE news anchor and the music of Celine Dion filled the house as I tried to look up words from the notes I took in class and put them together to make sense of what the teacher said. By the time my parents got back from work, the TV was turned off and Celine Dion music was switched off. The smell of the steaming rice and the sound of Vietnamese folk songs once again dominated the house. Henceforth, the period between school and dinner became the time in which I practiced my language skills and enriched my cultural understanding. By the time I reached middle school, I thought and dreamt in French.
Yet as a preadolescent girl, I didn't want to be accepted because of my differences. I wanted to feel belonged because of the similarities I share with people. I decided to attend high school in America. Being already multicultured, I thought I could easily glide in the American culture, however,
I come from convervative European-Asian cultures, in which thoughts are kept to self; thus when I got there, the sudden outburst of welcomes and passionate expressions of one's belief baffled me. Sometimes what I am equipped with is not as important as how I deal with situations. In such a culturally diverse environment, the only way to let people know of your existance is to openly state your opinions. At first, I absorbed all the ideas shared and observed the manner in which they were said. Now, I share my opninions and defend them while paying close attention to the way I express them.
As much I love the American openness, every time I come home I go back to being the traditional Vietnamese daughter all over again. I adapt to each environment I'm in, whether it's conversing in French with friends, saying "hi" in Polish to my neighbors, talking about the past in Vietnamese with family, or writing an essay in English for school. Yet in me, it's always all the thoughts selected from each culture put together to form my own perspective at once.
Here is the essay with specific questions;
When I entered the classroom, the sound of children throwing the building blocks and banging on the toy house diminished as gazes fell upon me, one by one [is it okay to put "one by one" here?]. As I walked past the children, they pulled the sides of their eyes and uttered nonsensical syllables ching chong [is it evident that the children are trying to make fun of my eyes?]. With eyes a bit watery, I looked up and smiled. A child came up to me and offered to play [should i just say "a child came up and offered to play?] . And then I knew that I could find comfort in laughing back with them.
Born in Poland to Vietnamese parents I learned at the first day of kindergarten to recognize my black hair and small frame among a crowd of cherubic golden haired children. After that first daunting day, I blended in with children as if I'd always been one of them. The more time I spent playing with them the less often I saw them pull the sides of their eyes to imitate my almond shaped eyes. The more often I spoke Polish in front of them [is it awkward to say "speak in front of them"?], the less often I heard them imitate the sound of my language. I started calling my parents "Mamusiu" and "Tatusiu", however, they always replied in Vietnamese [is it obvious that I started speaking Polish to them? or should I explain it in the essay?]. No matter how often I tried to develop the inner Polish in me, my parents always reminded me to follow the Vietnamese traditions at home. Eating pierogies with fork at school and poking the rice with chopsticks at home [is this sentence a bit random? i wanted to put it here to evoke the cultural differences that i experienced]; I adopted the two cultures and oscillated between the them as the day breaks [i don't know how to describe this... is there an expression that indicates nightime changes to daytime and vice versa?]. Nevertheless, the comfort I habitually found vanished when I turned eight.
The confusion at the first day of school, once again, revisited me [awkward? revisited me?]. Without prior preparation in French, I was enrolled in a French school in town. In class I scribbled down every word I could hear. At home, the voice of TV5MONDE news anchor and the music of Celine Dion filled the house as I tried to look up words from the notes I took in class and put them together to make sense of what the teacher said [too long of a sentence?]. By the time my parents got back from work, the TV was turned off and Celine Dion music was switched off [is there a better way to avoid passive verbs and the verb to be in this sentence?]. The smell of the steaming rice and the sound of Vietnamese folk songs once again dominated the house. Henceforth, the period between school and dinner became the time in which I practiced my language skills and enriched my cultural understanding. By the time I reached middle school, I thought and dreamt in French.
Yet as a preadolescent girl, I didn't want to be accepted because of my differences. I wanted to feel belonged because of the similarities I share with people. I decided to attend high school in America [maybe a transition?]. Being already multicultured, I thought I could easily glide in the American culture [awkward? too figurative?], however,
I come from convervative European-Asian cultures, in which thoughts are kept to self; thus when I got there, the sudden outburst of welcomes and passionate expressions of one's belief baffled me [should I show instead of tell?]. Sometimes what I am equipped with is not as important as how I deal with situations [i'm not sure you get the meaning that i'm trying to convey here. it might seem a bit random]. In such a culturally diverse environment, the only way to let people know of your existance is to openly state your opinions. At first, I absorbed all the ideas shared and observed the manner in which they were said. Now, I share my opninions and defend them while paying close attention to the way I express them.
As much I love the American openness, every time I come home I go back to being the traditional Vietnamese daughter all over again. I adapt to each environment I'm in, whether it's conversing in French with friends, saying "hi" in Polish to my neighbors, talking about the past in Vietnamese with family, or writing an essay in English for school. Yet in me, it's always all the thoughts selected from each culture put together to form my own perspective at once.
additional questions:
- Is it okay to use contractions in a college essay?
- is it okay to use figurative language?
- what do you think of each paragraph in the essay? i think it's very hard to write about this topic in just 500 words, but i really want to let the admission officers know that multiculturalism is my strength. do you think that each example from each paragraph is convincing?
- the last concluding paragraph sounds a bit cliche. i was wondering if you get the idea that I adapt accordingly to each environment that i'm in yet in my head , it's all the cultures at once. i don't want to sound like someone who goes out and learn tons of stuff and then go back home not contributing anything...
- is the essay overall coherent?
- what can your learn about me when reading this essay?
- can you point out any grammatical errors? I'm really bad a recognizing grammar stuff.
sorry! there are a lot of questions and you don't have to answer all of them. It would be nice if each person addresses different questions and offers his/her
opinions when the answers differ.
Thank you SO MUCH!!