-Any input is welcome! This is due in exactly 59 minutes!!!
-I am like 260 characters over the 2,000 limit so any elimination tips are also welcome!
-I don't really like my conclusion, I know it needs work...
-Be brutal & don't sugarcoat!!
Prompt: Stanford students possess an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development.
My mother was not a very strict parent overall, but when it came to school; there was no room for any dissention from her rules. School came first, no matter what was going on. This no-nonsense type of attitude that my mother held within her was engrained in not just me, but all three of my older sisters as well. Aside from the difficulties of raising four children alone, one of those having an extreme mental disability, my mother was also in the midst of her own battle. Being that I was probably only eight years old when my mother was diagnosed with cancer, a lot of the details of her condition were kept a secret from me. And a well-kept one too, until I could start putting two and two together, and became attentive enough to see the outward effects the disease was having on her body. My mother had been facing uterine cancer for 5 years when it metastasized to her lungs in what would be their final battle; the winner coming out with her life. While I could never really forget that my mother had cancer, I did my best to avoid thinking about the outcome that we knew could come at any time. This involved silent trips to the hospital; engrossed in magazines and books for hours while her chemotherapy went on, turning my head away whenever her shirt would droop, revealing her portacath doctors had installed to make chemo easier, and adhering to whatever she asked of me, without question. My mother died on the fourth day of October in two-thousand and six, five days before my thirteenth birthday. While I was devastated, when I left my mother's funeral, the day after my birthday, I knew that I was already a different person. Harboring a desire to make my mother proud no matter what, I knew I had to put my focus on academics. So focus I did. I poured endless time into challenging myself with difficult classes and trying to get good grades. Although my mother's death was hard for me to deal with, it is what pushed me to strive harder for things academically and also altered my thinking. I know now that hard work is what brings about desirable outcomes, not wishful thinking. Moreover, her death sparked a new hunger within me that I find myself constantly trying to feed the more I learn. A hunger that I hope is never satisfied.
-I am like 260 characters over the 2,000 limit so any elimination tips are also welcome!
-I don't really like my conclusion, I know it needs work...
-Be brutal & don't sugarcoat!!
Prompt: Stanford students possess an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development.
My mother was not a very strict parent overall, but when it came to school; there was no room for any dissention from her rules. School came first, no matter what was going on. This no-nonsense type of attitude that my mother held within her was engrained in not just me, but all three of my older sisters as well. Aside from the difficulties of raising four children alone, one of those having an extreme mental disability, my mother was also in the midst of her own battle. Being that I was probably only eight years old when my mother was diagnosed with cancer, a lot of the details of her condition were kept a secret from me. And a well-kept one too, until I could start putting two and two together, and became attentive enough to see the outward effects the disease was having on her body. My mother had been facing uterine cancer for 5 years when it metastasized to her lungs in what would be their final battle; the winner coming out with her life. While I could never really forget that my mother had cancer, I did my best to avoid thinking about the outcome that we knew could come at any time. This involved silent trips to the hospital; engrossed in magazines and books for hours while her chemotherapy went on, turning my head away whenever her shirt would droop, revealing her portacath doctors had installed to make chemo easier, and adhering to whatever she asked of me, without question. My mother died on the fourth day of October in two-thousand and six, five days before my thirteenth birthday. While I was devastated, when I left my mother's funeral, the day after my birthday, I knew that I was already a different person. Harboring a desire to make my mother proud no matter what, I knew I had to put my focus on academics. So focus I did. I poured endless time into challenging myself with difficult classes and trying to get good grades. Although my mother's death was hard for me to deal with, it is what pushed me to strive harder for things academically and also altered my thinking. I know now that hard work is what brings about desirable outcomes, not wishful thinking. Moreover, her death sparked a new hunger within me that I find myself constantly trying to feed the more I learn. A hunger that I hope is never satisfied.
