Discuss how your family's experience or cultural history enriched you or presented you with opportunities or challenges in pursuing your educational goals.
Or,
Tell us a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates your character or helped to shape it.
At the age of 13 I didn't much care about the future. My foresight only extended as far as to the end of the week and my biggest worry consisted of that pesky book report I had yet to start. Whenever my parents brought up college they would talk about it in a very resolute manner. My attending TAMIU and living at home was simply a fixed truth in their minds; and every time the subject came up I would just smile, and nod dutifully; it wasn't as if I had any plans of my own anyhow.
Months later, just after my 14th birthday, my dad came home looking tired and irritable. I didn't read anything into it and wrote it off as a byproduct of the oppressive heat that had enveloped the city this past week (I'd always been more of a rainy day kind of gal myself, so I could certainly understand the frustration). However, when his dour mood persisted for three consecutive days, my explanation was looking increasingly flimsy.
By the sixth day his mood had settled into one of quiet defeat. He sat with one of his Philosophy books in hand, looking pensive and sad. I sat down next him on our lumpy couch as he broke the room's heavy silence. He began talking about how miserable he had been at work lately. He then segued into the topic of his parents, how they had forced their dreams onto him. When he had finished, he sighed, turned to me with a somber look and said in Spanish, "Mi hijita, encuentra tu vocacion, tu pasion y sigala donde quiera que te lleve. No seas complaciente." (My little girl, find your calling, your passion and follow it wherever it takes you. Don't be complacent.)
My dad's confession and words of advice awakened something in me. Suddenly, I realized I didn't want to settle for easy; I did want something more than this. Of course, I didn't have a clue what that 'something' was, but I knew I wanted to find out. I started to mull everything over, my experiences, and my beliefs; as pieces of the puzzle started falling into place, small slivers of the mystery picture hidden in the canvas began to emerge.
By the time I started high school my convictions had grown stronger, I knew what I believed in. I had also unwittingly begun to discover myself in the process. I discovered I liked Winter and relished it's bracing cold winds and found that I loved Literature but had an absolute distaste for Math. These newfound facets revealed that my enthusiasm for reading was something that I wanted to pursue and take to the next level.
Time wore on and as my personality became more clear and defined, so did the mystery picture on the canvas. What had started as an abstract painting had transformed into an almost completely developed photograph, now only slightly blurry. Those remaining patches of fog cleared up spectacularly after our move to Seattle. One week in the city was all it took for me to fall in love with it, its towering snow capped mountains, the bustling atmosphere downtown. The ten months I spent in Seattle put my obscure picture in focus. I knew exactly where I wanted to be.
My dad once said to me that it was a shame that he had discovered his passion for Philosophy so late in life and that I was lucky to know what I wanted so early in mine. The conversations I had with my dad are the things I remember most about growing up. Looking back on it, it still surprises me how drastically my outlook on life was changed by a simple story and two sentences, gravely spoken in Spanish, 'Mi hijita, encuentra tu vocacion, tu pasion y sigala donde quiera que te lleve. No seas complaciente'
** My little girl, find your calling, your passion and follow it wherever it takes you. Don't be complacent.
Or,
Tell us a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates your character or helped to shape it.
At the age of 13 I didn't much care about the future. My foresight only extended as far as to the end of the week and my biggest worry consisted of that pesky book report I had yet to start. Whenever my parents brought up college they would talk about it in a very resolute manner. My attending TAMIU and living at home was simply a fixed truth in their minds; and every time the subject came up I would just smile, and nod dutifully; it wasn't as if I had any plans of my own anyhow.
Months later, just after my 14th birthday, my dad came home looking tired and irritable. I didn't read anything into it and wrote it off as a byproduct of the oppressive heat that had enveloped the city this past week (I'd always been more of a rainy day kind of gal myself, so I could certainly understand the frustration). However, when his dour mood persisted for three consecutive days, my explanation was looking increasingly flimsy.
By the sixth day his mood had settled into one of quiet defeat. He sat with one of his Philosophy books in hand, looking pensive and sad. I sat down next him on our lumpy couch as he broke the room's heavy silence. He began talking about how miserable he had been at work lately. He then segued into the topic of his parents, how they had forced their dreams onto him. When he had finished, he sighed, turned to me with a somber look and said in Spanish, "Mi hijita, encuentra tu vocacion, tu pasion y sigala donde quiera que te lleve. No seas complaciente." (My little girl, find your calling, your passion and follow it wherever it takes you. Don't be complacent.)
My dad's confession and words of advice awakened something in me. Suddenly, I realized I didn't want to settle for easy; I did want something more than this. Of course, I didn't have a clue what that 'something' was, but I knew I wanted to find out. I started to mull everything over, my experiences, and my beliefs; as pieces of the puzzle started falling into place, small slivers of the mystery picture hidden in the canvas began to emerge.
By the time I started high school my convictions had grown stronger, I knew what I believed in. I had also unwittingly begun to discover myself in the process. I discovered I liked Winter and relished it's bracing cold winds and found that I loved Literature but had an absolute distaste for Math. These newfound facets revealed that my enthusiasm for reading was something that I wanted to pursue and take to the next level.
Time wore on and as my personality became more clear and defined, so did the mystery picture on the canvas. What had started as an abstract painting had transformed into an almost completely developed photograph, now only slightly blurry. Those remaining patches of fog cleared up spectacularly after our move to Seattle. One week in the city was all it took for me to fall in love with it, its towering snow capped mountains, the bustling atmosphere downtown. The ten months I spent in Seattle put my obscure picture in focus. I knew exactly where I wanted to be.
My dad once said to me that it was a shame that he had discovered his passion for Philosophy so late in life and that I was lucky to know what I wanted so early in mine. The conversations I had with my dad are the things I remember most about growing up. Looking back on it, it still surprises me how drastically my outlook on life was changed by a simple story and two sentences, gravely spoken in Spanish, 'Mi hijita, encuentra tu vocacion, tu pasion y sigala donde quiera que te lleve. No seas complaciente'
** My little girl, find your calling, your passion and follow it wherever it takes you. Don't be complacent.