I am applying for a scholars program at my future college. There is a time limit on the application, but it gives you the three short answer propmts that you are to respond to. The first one is:
As you think about your learning experiences in high school, what has intrigued you the most and why?
I've heard somewhere that it was a good idea to try and tell an experience like a story, and it's very important that my work stands out. However, I'm not very sure how this would be recived by the Selections Committee. Any advice or feedback would be greatly appreciated :)
This was my response:
A sleepy room filled with hot, sticky teenage bodies did their very best to stay awake while a tape recording of Romeo and Juliet played in the background. Heavy heads were kept , for the most part, in a semi-vertical position by supporting hands, while a copy of the accompanying play was barely kept open in the other. The windows were propped open in a desperate attempt on the teacher's part to revive her class. Unfortunately, the occasional breeze that happened to drift slowly in and fill up the room with the outside smells of freedom backfired, as this only lulled the students into a deeper haze. All except for one.
At a first glance, she might have appeared to be silently sweating and fanning her self along with the rest of her classmates. On further inspection however, it could be observed that she was actually crying. The hand that was supposedly fanning was actually pressed firmly the throat/chest area as if it were the only way to suppress her heart from bounding out of her ribcage. This action, paired with the crazy, saddening expression that was transfixed upon her wide-eyed face was indeed a stark contrast to the rest of the room.
I was already past the point of trying to figure out why my fellow peers were barely holding on to conciseness when such a beautiful and moving piece of literature was right in front of them. How could they sleep while a young and passionate Romeo coyly tried to elicit a kiss from his newfound love? While a imaginative Mercucio was captivating me with a story of Queen Mab? While the dramatic irony of two lovers dying for one another and yet being so ridiculously close to escape and happiness was almost too much to bare!?
Needless to say, I was taken aback for the first few weeks of this class. Being use to the rigors of a Vanguard middle school, my high school Pre-Ap English class was not very different, and maybe even a little lacking when compared to my 8th grade literature introduction class. Eventually I just came to accept, simply, to each is own. In fact, I began to revel in the idea that I was a sole appreciator of the little textual jewels that we were to digest. A lone wolf that hunted for alliteration, rhyme scheme, and, as it came to be know, the Greater Meaning.
Amidst all the gloomy and reluctant attitudes toward learning, my appreciation for literature was being nurtured. Partly because of my own eagerness to learn and partly because of supportive and empathetic teachers. While my friends may have had dance practice and pep rallies to see them through the day, I had a special and what seemed to me, a more purposeful endeavor. Nothing in my typical high school day could cause me to experience so much emotion as the likes of Roethke, Fitzgerald, and Hughes. I was continually captivated each year by the poems, books, speeches, and short stories that I would eventually come to have a deep and lasting appreciation for.
As you think about your learning experiences in high school, what has intrigued you the most and why?
I've heard somewhere that it was a good idea to try and tell an experience like a story, and it's very important that my work stands out. However, I'm not very sure how this would be recived by the Selections Committee. Any advice or feedback would be greatly appreciated :)
This was my response:
A sleepy room filled with hot, sticky teenage bodies did their very best to stay awake while a tape recording of Romeo and Juliet played in the background. Heavy heads were kept , for the most part, in a semi-vertical position by supporting hands, while a copy of the accompanying play was barely kept open in the other. The windows were propped open in a desperate attempt on the teacher's part to revive her class. Unfortunately, the occasional breeze that happened to drift slowly in and fill up the room with the outside smells of freedom backfired, as this only lulled the students into a deeper haze. All except for one.
At a first glance, she might have appeared to be silently sweating and fanning her self along with the rest of her classmates. On further inspection however, it could be observed that she was actually crying. The hand that was supposedly fanning was actually pressed firmly the throat/chest area as if it were the only way to suppress her heart from bounding out of her ribcage. This action, paired with the crazy, saddening expression that was transfixed upon her wide-eyed face was indeed a stark contrast to the rest of the room.
I was already past the point of trying to figure out why my fellow peers were barely holding on to conciseness when such a beautiful and moving piece of literature was right in front of them. How could they sleep while a young and passionate Romeo coyly tried to elicit a kiss from his newfound love? While a imaginative Mercucio was captivating me with a story of Queen Mab? While the dramatic irony of two lovers dying for one another and yet being so ridiculously close to escape and happiness was almost too much to bare!?
Needless to say, I was taken aback for the first few weeks of this class. Being use to the rigors of a Vanguard middle school, my high school Pre-Ap English class was not very different, and maybe even a little lacking when compared to my 8th grade literature introduction class. Eventually I just came to accept, simply, to each is own. In fact, I began to revel in the idea that I was a sole appreciator of the little textual jewels that we were to digest. A lone wolf that hunted for alliteration, rhyme scheme, and, as it came to be know, the Greater Meaning.
Amidst all the gloomy and reluctant attitudes toward learning, my appreciation for literature was being nurtured. Partly because of my own eagerness to learn and partly because of supportive and empathetic teachers. While my friends may have had dance practice and pep rallies to see them through the day, I had a special and what seemed to me, a more purposeful endeavor. Nothing in my typical high school day could cause me to experience so much emotion as the likes of Roethke, Fitzgerald, and Hughes. I was continually captivated each year by the poems, books, speeches, and short stories that I would eventually come to have a deep and lasting appreciation for.
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