Hey guys sorry to be a bother but I have two different essays and I'm not sure which one to use. Please tell me which one is more appropriate for the question: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you. And once I figure out which one to use, can you please help me edit? Thanks everyone!
First essay:
Standing on line waiting for security to search me, I was anxious, excited, and quite frankly, I didn't know what to expect. I was heading for Egypt for a month long trip along with other members of my church. We were going to tour, visit family, and most importantly, partake in mission work and community outreach. Finally, we board the plane with a long flight ahead of us. As soon as we landed, I stepped outside of the airport, and my journey began. We went from museum to museum, monastery to monastery, cousin's house to cousin's house. Finally, we got to the last phase-mission work. This is when my nerves kicked in; I was sitting on the bus, not knowing what to expect. Our first stop was the village of the Zabbaleen, an Arabic word for "garbage people". We did a little background reading and they are the minority Coptic group in Egypt that are the waste management peoples of Cairo. I've served in soup kitchens and homeless shelters before that, so I was expecting this to be similar. Little did I know...
We got to the headquarters of the missionaries based in the Moqattam Village. I was looking around and I couldn't just keep my eyes in front of me. My head turned constantly to take in what I was seeing-run down buildings, dirt roads, little to no electricity, garbage everywhere; in addition, the smell was not very pleasant. It took me a few minutes to take in everything I just saw. Jus as I gathered my thoughts, we split up and set off to go visit a home. Each of us had an envelope containing 150 Egyptian pounds as a donation, and we were going to regroup in a few hours and report what we saw, and talk about what we can do in the next few days.
I approached the first home. It was a small, boxed shaped, really old, run down home. It was made of stone, the walls were wearing out, and there were large piles of garbage by the front door. I timidly knocked. A tiny old lady answered, and she didn't speak any English (I only speak basic Arabic but I managed to hold conversations). Her home didn't have a full roof. There was one light bulb, and a broken stove. She didn't have running water. Her bedroom had a layer of garbage. When I asked her why there was garbage everywhere, she told me her husband had walked out when she had her second child, and she's been collecting garbage and selling whatever she could to support her family. Her physical conditions didn't allow her to get a real job, if she could have even found one. I then asked about her two sons, she answered saying one of them passed away. He was sick, and they couldn't afford a doctor so they never technically found out why he died. Her other son was in Cairo working as a garbage collector making very little money. Looking around the house and seeing the crumbling building and all the garbage made me feel very appreciative of what I had. But hearing her story in addition to seeing her home was honestly one of the most heart breaking things I've encountered. The ironic part is, whenever she answered a question or described her situation, she'd end with "ishkor rabina" meaning "thank God." Not once did she complain about her living conditions or situation. When I was saying my goodbyes, I took the envelope out of my pocket and handed it to her, telling her it was a donation from our group as a whole. She opened it and burst into tears and hugged me sobbing many thanks. I couldn't help but shed a few tears as I returned her hug.
When our group met up later on, we discussed what needed to be done. Roofs needed to be fixed, appliances needed installation, A LOT of cleaning needed to be done, light bulbs needed to be replaced, and many more laborious tasks. We spent the following week doing chores around the village. Before we knew it, it was time to say goodbye.
On the plane ride home, I spent a lot of time reflecting. Although what I had seen and done was sad and upsetting, it made me a stronger person. I learned a lot from the woman I visited, and nothing gave me more joy than the look on her face when she accepted the donation. I have come a long way since the summer of 2010, when this all happened. I feel that I have now seen the world outside of Long Island, NY. I'm ready to face and overcome new challenges, always remembering the woman I visited and how she was appreciative even when she had virtually nothing.
Second Essay:
I have two best friends. We've grown up together, we've always been there for each other, and we've always had a blast together. It wasn't until last year that a problem arose.
I was working at 7-Eleven, and it was a Saturday night in mid-March around 9:00 PM. My two friends came in and at first I was pretty happy they were visiting. It turns out they were looking to buy beer with their new fake IDs, and they wanted me to sell it to them. I initially thought they were playing a prank on me, but then they started trying to convince me. "Come on bro, who's going to find out?" and "what could possibly go wrong" were their main points. I couldn't do it. I couldn't risk my job to waste all of the hard work I've put into school to have an arrest on my résumé. I politely told them I didn't want to risk my job and everything I had for them to get drunk. "I thought you were cool dude" was their reply.
That next Monday I saw them, and they didn't act as hostile as I expected them to be. We sit in our AP Calc BC class to take a test, and during the test one of them tapped me on the shoulder. I turn, and he's holding his calculator with a message saying "NEED HELP. PLZ" I was torn on what to do. On one hand, I already got them mad over the weekend. On the other hand, I studied a lot for this exam while they didn't crack calculus books open. I finished my test and slid it to the corner of my desk and slouched down, pretending to be thinking about a question.
I went home that day and felt AWFUL. Guilt was eating at my insides, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't believe I just let my friends cheat off my test! I thought about it for a while and decided to sleep on it. I woke up the next morning and went straight to my math teacher before school started. I told him everything that happened. I told him my reasoning behind it, and the weekend's events. I even told him I'd understand if he gave me a zero. But he was more understanding than I had pictured. He let me and my friends retake a different version of the test that same day, and let them off with a warning.
I was so relieved that I had gotten it off my chest. For those few hours, my conscience was eating at my insides and I didn't feel right about myself. I now know that doing the right thing is always the way to go, no matter what your friends think. In fact, my friends weren't even mad I turned us all in, so it all worked out in the end.
First essay:
Standing on line waiting for security to search me, I was anxious, excited, and quite frankly, I didn't know what to expect. I was heading for Egypt for a month long trip along with other members of my church. We were going to tour, visit family, and most importantly, partake in mission work and community outreach. Finally, we board the plane with a long flight ahead of us. As soon as we landed, I stepped outside of the airport, and my journey began. We went from museum to museum, monastery to monastery, cousin's house to cousin's house. Finally, we got to the last phase-mission work. This is when my nerves kicked in; I was sitting on the bus, not knowing what to expect. Our first stop was the village of the Zabbaleen, an Arabic word for "garbage people". We did a little background reading and they are the minority Coptic group in Egypt that are the waste management peoples of Cairo. I've served in soup kitchens and homeless shelters before that, so I was expecting this to be similar. Little did I know...
We got to the headquarters of the missionaries based in the Moqattam Village. I was looking around and I couldn't just keep my eyes in front of me. My head turned constantly to take in what I was seeing-run down buildings, dirt roads, little to no electricity, garbage everywhere; in addition, the smell was not very pleasant. It took me a few minutes to take in everything I just saw. Jus as I gathered my thoughts, we split up and set off to go visit a home. Each of us had an envelope containing 150 Egyptian pounds as a donation, and we were going to regroup in a few hours and report what we saw, and talk about what we can do in the next few days.
I approached the first home. It was a small, boxed shaped, really old, run down home. It was made of stone, the walls were wearing out, and there were large piles of garbage by the front door. I timidly knocked. A tiny old lady answered, and she didn't speak any English (I only speak basic Arabic but I managed to hold conversations). Her home didn't have a full roof. There was one light bulb, and a broken stove. She didn't have running water. Her bedroom had a layer of garbage. When I asked her why there was garbage everywhere, she told me her husband had walked out when she had her second child, and she's been collecting garbage and selling whatever she could to support her family. Her physical conditions didn't allow her to get a real job, if she could have even found one. I then asked about her two sons, she answered saying one of them passed away. He was sick, and they couldn't afford a doctor so they never technically found out why he died. Her other son was in Cairo working as a garbage collector making very little money. Looking around the house and seeing the crumbling building and all the garbage made me feel very appreciative of what I had. But hearing her story in addition to seeing her home was honestly one of the most heart breaking things I've encountered. The ironic part is, whenever she answered a question or described her situation, she'd end with "ishkor rabina" meaning "thank God." Not once did she complain about her living conditions or situation. When I was saying my goodbyes, I took the envelope out of my pocket and handed it to her, telling her it was a donation from our group as a whole. She opened it and burst into tears and hugged me sobbing many thanks. I couldn't help but shed a few tears as I returned her hug.
When our group met up later on, we discussed what needed to be done. Roofs needed to be fixed, appliances needed installation, A LOT of cleaning needed to be done, light bulbs needed to be replaced, and many more laborious tasks. We spent the following week doing chores around the village. Before we knew it, it was time to say goodbye.
On the plane ride home, I spent a lot of time reflecting. Although what I had seen and done was sad and upsetting, it made me a stronger person. I learned a lot from the woman I visited, and nothing gave me more joy than the look on her face when she accepted the donation. I have come a long way since the summer of 2010, when this all happened. I feel that I have now seen the world outside of Long Island, NY. I'm ready to face and overcome new challenges, always remembering the woman I visited and how she was appreciative even when she had virtually nothing.
Second Essay:
I have two best friends. We've grown up together, we've always been there for each other, and we've always had a blast together. It wasn't until last year that a problem arose.
I was working at 7-Eleven, and it was a Saturday night in mid-March around 9:00 PM. My two friends came in and at first I was pretty happy they were visiting. It turns out they were looking to buy beer with their new fake IDs, and they wanted me to sell it to them. I initially thought they were playing a prank on me, but then they started trying to convince me. "Come on bro, who's going to find out?" and "what could possibly go wrong" were their main points. I couldn't do it. I couldn't risk my job to waste all of the hard work I've put into school to have an arrest on my résumé. I politely told them I didn't want to risk my job and everything I had for them to get drunk. "I thought you were cool dude" was their reply.
That next Monday I saw them, and they didn't act as hostile as I expected them to be. We sit in our AP Calc BC class to take a test, and during the test one of them tapped me on the shoulder. I turn, and he's holding his calculator with a message saying "NEED HELP. PLZ" I was torn on what to do. On one hand, I already got them mad over the weekend. On the other hand, I studied a lot for this exam while they didn't crack calculus books open. I finished my test and slid it to the corner of my desk and slouched down, pretending to be thinking about a question.
I went home that day and felt AWFUL. Guilt was eating at my insides, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't believe I just let my friends cheat off my test! I thought about it for a while and decided to sleep on it. I woke up the next morning and went straight to my math teacher before school started. I told him everything that happened. I told him my reasoning behind it, and the weekend's events. I even told him I'd understand if he gave me a zero. But he was more understanding than I had pictured. He let me and my friends retake a different version of the test that same day, and let them off with a warning.
I was so relieved that I had gotten it off my chest. For those few hours, my conscience was eating at my insides and I didn't feel right about myself. I now know that doing the right thing is always the way to go, no matter what your friends think. In fact, my friends weren't even mad I turned us all in, so it all worked out in the end.