"The Admissions Committee would like to know more about you in your own words. Please submit a brief essay, either personal or creative, which you feel best describes you."
Option #1. Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
One essay for two prompts :p. Do you feel like this essay fits these 2 prompts? If not then could you help me figure what I should add in and such? Thanks so much!
With notes in one hand and a pencil in the other, I was ready. It was early Saturday morning and I was ready to give it my all. I had my cases and counterarguments ready. My timer was clocked at seven minutes for my first speech. With my ironed suit and polished shoes, I was, indeed, fresh. It was a facade. Inside, the phrase "butterflies in my stomach" came to mind. After all, it was my first official debate round.
With a cool fifteen minutes to spare, I sat down and let out a sigh. I pulled out my trusty orange-flavored Trident gum pack in a pre-emptive strike to ward off anymore anticipated anxiety. Things seemed fine: I was alone at the end of a compact corridor, learning against the wall, chewing my favorite gum, and feeling less uneasiness. Then I heard someone approach. I turned and saw an expression no different from mine: an emotionless, blank stare. We conversed about little things until it was time. As the final minutes weaned closer, I clenched my fists to feel the strength of my resolve. Knowing that I'd have to be calm during the round, I freed my hands and relaxed. I was ready, or so I thought.
Before I gave my opening speech, I noticed my hand shaking. It couldn't stop. It was a disaster waiting to happen but the debate had to go on. I didn't feel right standing there speechless. I wanted to quit, thinking that speech and debate wasn't right for me. As fear overwhelmed me, I sipped some water, started my timer, and spoke. That's all I did: speak. I could hear the distortion in my voice but it progressively dissipated as I delved into my opening speech. My soft, staggering voice turned into something stronger and before I knew it, I was asserting answers to all his questions, refuting his arguments, and providing reasons as to why I won.
We left the room without saying a word to each other. It was his first time too. I ran my hands through my hair and proceeded with a victory jump. The feeling was new to me. It was a different type of joy, different from winning simplistic things like video or card games. This was something to be proud of. I debated for the first time and whether or not I won meant little to me. I was stronger. I was different from the boy who passed up on reading excerpts from Lord of the Flies. I was more than that timid kid that nobody knew about. I was on mental steroids. I continued the rest of the day, stronger than the previous round until we reached the awards ceremony.
A clap echoed throughout the auditorium. A single clap: not ten, five, or even two. Just one. It was the clap of recognition, the gesture of honor for those who did well but not best. It didn't matter to me. It was the sound of personal progress, a rite of passage in which I was more than what I was. It was the sound of my dedication paying off. It was the sound of meaning derived from Speech and Debate. I knew that Speech and Debate was something I wanted to be a part of, something I wanted to develop a passion for, and ever since that point, I have continued with Speech and Debate, still slowly conquering the "butterflies in my stomach," and the shake in my hand. I intend on doing so until my last official debate round.
Option #1. Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
One essay for two prompts :p. Do you feel like this essay fits these 2 prompts? If not then could you help me figure what I should add in and such? Thanks so much!
With notes in one hand and a pencil in the other, I was ready. It was early Saturday morning and I was ready to give it my all. I had my cases and counterarguments ready. My timer was clocked at seven minutes for my first speech. With my ironed suit and polished shoes, I was, indeed, fresh. It was a facade. Inside, the phrase "butterflies in my stomach" came to mind. After all, it was my first official debate round.
With a cool fifteen minutes to spare, I sat down and let out a sigh. I pulled out my trusty orange-flavored Trident gum pack in a pre-emptive strike to ward off anymore anticipated anxiety. Things seemed fine: I was alone at the end of a compact corridor, learning against the wall, chewing my favorite gum, and feeling less uneasiness. Then I heard someone approach. I turned and saw an expression no different from mine: an emotionless, blank stare. We conversed about little things until it was time. As the final minutes weaned closer, I clenched my fists to feel the strength of my resolve. Knowing that I'd have to be calm during the round, I freed my hands and relaxed. I was ready, or so I thought.
Before I gave my opening speech, I noticed my hand shaking. It couldn't stop. It was a disaster waiting to happen but the debate had to go on. I didn't feel right standing there speechless. I wanted to quit, thinking that speech and debate wasn't right for me. As fear overwhelmed me, I sipped some water, started my timer, and spoke. That's all I did: speak. I could hear the distortion in my voice but it progressively dissipated as I delved into my opening speech. My soft, staggering voice turned into something stronger and before I knew it, I was asserting answers to all his questions, refuting his arguments, and providing reasons as to why I won.
We left the room without saying a word to each other. It was his first time too. I ran my hands through my hair and proceeded with a victory jump. The feeling was new to me. It was a different type of joy, different from winning simplistic things like video or card games. This was something to be proud of. I debated for the first time and whether or not I won meant little to me. I was stronger. I was different from the boy who passed up on reading excerpts from Lord of the Flies. I was more than that timid kid that nobody knew about. I was on mental steroids. I continued the rest of the day, stronger than the previous round until we reached the awards ceremony.
A clap echoed throughout the auditorium. A single clap: not ten, five, or even two. Just one. It was the clap of recognition, the gesture of honor for those who did well but not best. It didn't matter to me. It was the sound of personal progress, a rite of passage in which I was more than what I was. It was the sound of my dedication paying off. It was the sound of meaning derived from Speech and Debate. I knew that Speech and Debate was something I wanted to be a part of, something I wanted to develop a passion for, and ever since that point, I have continued with Speech and Debate, still slowly conquering the "butterflies in my stomach," and the shake in my hand. I intend on doing so until my last official debate round.