Hey everyone, this is a rough draft of one of my supplement questions. I am veryfearful of sounding like an unorganized and a slightly random lunatic because i feel like i touch a lot of different topics in my essay, so i welcome all criticism !
Here's the question:
Anatole France wrote: "An education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you do know and what you don't." What don't you know?
Here's my answer:
Male seahorses carry their spawn in a pouch in the front of their arching bodies and can thus give birth to hundreds of tiny seahorses after a period of gestation time. It would be incorrect to say that the pouch they use to get pregnant in is near their stomach because they have no stomach.
I will never know what it will be like to be a little seahorse father pregnant with my hundreds of babies. My body is only designed to carry one (ideally).
The only way that I could ever figure out what I don't know is by asserting what I know from what I don't know first. I agree with what Anatole France's words. So let me continue to define my 17 year's wealth of knowledge so that when I am done, I will know that whatever I didn't mention is what I don't know. Is this not the most logical and fulfilling way to explain what an education is to find out what I don't know? On the contrary, I find it more exciting to live and immerse myself in what I don't know rather than wonder at what I do know because the beauty of education is that I don't know everything.
If a desert held the wealth of the world's knowledge, a sand dune held an empire's secrets, and each grain of sand a philosopher's thought, it would take me a lifetime to understand the handful of sand that I used to pick up in the sandbox during recess. But that is beside the point because I do not live in the dry scathing desert of the earth. I live in the luscious warm waters of the ocean. The ocean's viscous breeze ripples by as I cling onto a bright branch of red coral. It is morning, and I am hungry. Though I usually freely drift around before I anchor myself for the day, I feel heavier than usual as I look down and the growing pocket on my body. It must be fitting to feel protective of this collection of life, stored safely inside of me. My children will hatch soon, and I as their father will want to hold them and protect them inside of myself until I feel that they can be released. Is how a father should feel? Am I being overprotective? Or has nature just made me this way because it knows that it will take away many of my small one's lives before they even have a chance to see the world? I do not know, but I know that I must sustain myself to take care of them, and I wait in the breeze- a true ocean breeze- or as some in the land above call it a wave. I can see the outlines of my little crustacean snacks in the deep, hazy blue as the sun rises higher and illuminates the water around me. Constellations of white dots speckle across my body as it shines its lustrous golden hue in the sun. The water is not very deep, so as the day brightens the sea, I can see more clearly the beautiful world that I live in. Deep kelp forests sashay in the waves of the clear blue waters and glittering schools of fish fly like arrows across the reef. Bright yellow sponges and royal purple sea urchins sit as my clownfish friends curve their bodies around the deep magenta anemones below me. What am I to deserve such a lively view every day of my life in this riveting and rippling setting? What am I to be blessed with so many offspring, protecting and harboring them safely within myself? I am a seahorse.
Here's the question:
Anatole France wrote: "An education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you do know and what you don't." What don't you know?
Here's my answer:
Male seahorses carry their spawn in a pouch in the front of their arching bodies and can thus give birth to hundreds of tiny seahorses after a period of gestation time. It would be incorrect to say that the pouch they use to get pregnant in is near their stomach because they have no stomach.
I will never know what it will be like to be a little seahorse father pregnant with my hundreds of babies. My body is only designed to carry one (ideally).
The only way that I could ever figure out what I don't know is by asserting what I know from what I don't know first. I agree with what Anatole France's words. So let me continue to define my 17 year's wealth of knowledge so that when I am done, I will know that whatever I didn't mention is what I don't know. Is this not the most logical and fulfilling way to explain what an education is to find out what I don't know? On the contrary, I find it more exciting to live and immerse myself in what I don't know rather than wonder at what I do know because the beauty of education is that I don't know everything.
If a desert held the wealth of the world's knowledge, a sand dune held an empire's secrets, and each grain of sand a philosopher's thought, it would take me a lifetime to understand the handful of sand that I used to pick up in the sandbox during recess. But that is beside the point because I do not live in the dry scathing desert of the earth. I live in the luscious warm waters of the ocean. The ocean's viscous breeze ripples by as I cling onto a bright branch of red coral. It is morning, and I am hungry. Though I usually freely drift around before I anchor myself for the day, I feel heavier than usual as I look down and the growing pocket on my body. It must be fitting to feel protective of this collection of life, stored safely inside of me. My children will hatch soon, and I as their father will want to hold them and protect them inside of myself until I feel that they can be released. Is how a father should feel? Am I being overprotective? Or has nature just made me this way because it knows that it will take away many of my small one's lives before they even have a chance to see the world? I do not know, but I know that I must sustain myself to take care of them, and I wait in the breeze- a true ocean breeze- or as some in the land above call it a wave. I can see the outlines of my little crustacean snacks in the deep, hazy blue as the sun rises higher and illuminates the water around me. Constellations of white dots speckle across my body as it shines its lustrous golden hue in the sun. The water is not very deep, so as the day brightens the sea, I can see more clearly the beautiful world that I live in. Deep kelp forests sashay in the waves of the clear blue waters and glittering schools of fish fly like arrows across the reef. Bright yellow sponges and royal purple sea urchins sit as my clownfish friends curve their bodies around the deep magenta anemones below me. What am I to deserve such a lively view every day of my life in this riveting and rippling setting? What am I to be blessed with so many offspring, protecting and harboring them safely within myself? I am a seahorse.