Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family. (250-600 words)
My entire body violently lurches forward, my head bouncing back, as the truck slams into me from behind, going no less than 50 miles per hour. As I sit in the seat, completely frozen, unable to comprehend what just happened, I cannot help but think: "it is not when a teenager first gets behind the wheel of a car that they become an adult, but it is when they experience a terrifying accident, waiting for the parent to immediately take control of the situation, only to realize they are more than thirty minutes away, that the realization hits you, almost as quickly as the truck did, that you are supposed to be the responsible adult."
Last week, when I was involved in a car accident, it took me a while to comprehend the fact that someone had actually hit me. I sat in my seat, tightly gripping the wheel, trying to remember the proper steps of what I was supposed to do if I was ever involved in an accident, and, for a moment, I could not, for the life of me, think of anything. When the driver got out of their vehicle, asking me if I was hurt or injured in any way, I snapped out of my daze, jumped into action, and did what I was supposed to do; I made sure the other driver was okay, called the police, took pictures of the scene, and exchanged names, phone numbers, and insurance policies with the other driver. When the police arrived and asked for my driver's license, a horrible feeling slowly came over me as I realized that I had misplaced my license because it was no longer in my wallet. It was in that moment that I truly realized that my parents were not able to be with me to help me figure out what to do, and I was supposed to handle this horrifying experience on my own. I was terrified to tell the police that I could not find my license because I knew that there was no way I would be leaving the accident without a ticket for driving without a license. In my head, I had associated tickets with adulthood, and the brief thought that, through my own reasoning, I was an adult, floated through my head.
When my dad finally arrived, thirty minutes after the accident, I felt an immediate burden lifted off of my shoulders because I no longer had to be an adult in the situation. After the accident was finalized and taken care of, I went with my dad to go to the chiropractor's office to get a check up. He jokingly said, "now that you have been in your first car accident, you are officially an adult." Later that night, as he sat down to talk with me about the accident, he said to me, "You know, when I got into my first accident, my mom told me that I was an adult and that I needed to deal with the repercussions of it by myself." It finally struck me, that, in the eyes of my family, I was officially an adult.
I'm not sure if my personal essay is 'good enough', both grammatically and content wise...
Thank you for any help you can offer!
Holt Educational Consultant - / 14,812 
4780 Grace, the essay definitely shows a perfect example of a transition to adulthood. Your dad's reaction is classic! However, you have a part in the essay that doesn't really need to be there. You don't need to go step by step regarding what you did at the scene of the accident. Just mention it in an overview so that the paragraph does not run too long. Right now, that paragraph is the longest in the essay and it can cause reader fatigue. Just keep it short. The reviewer knows the accident reporting process. You don't have to lecture him about it.
Now, about you feeling relieved at not having to be the adult in the room anymore when your dad arrived. I don't suggest you tell the reviewer that. I mean, the essay is supposed to be a celebration of adulthood, regardless of the circumstances. That part of the essay makes you sound like you don't appreciate being considered a responsible adult. Maybe some rewording is due to make it sound less like you didn't want to take responsibility for what happened.
