Describe a setting in which you have collaborated or interacted with people whose experiences and/or beliefs differ from yours. Address your initial feelings, and how those feelings were or were not changed by this experience.
As a fourteen-year-old entering my freshman year in high-school, everything was changing pretty rapidly for me. New classes, new school. I was finally a "big kid" in my eyes. The first few weeks went as well as one could expect. Semi-crazy French teacher, a much larger amount of homework, making new friends, all big parts of anyone's high school experience. But it was one November evening while my family and I were seated around the table, my siblings and I picking at our food we weren't all too interested in eating, that we were hit with a bombshell. "So, we have some news to give you guys!" my mom exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "Are we finally going to be able to get a phone upgrade?" my twin sister, Leonor, asked with enthusiasm. "Maybe, but we've got bigger news than that!" my mother said while turning to my father, who was sitting quietly at the head of the table. Whenever my father spoke, he spoke with purpose. This trait was not lost when he began to share the news. "Well, it's not final, and it probably won't happen, but I've been offered a job in Amsterdam. If I accept it, we're going to move there this year." Silence filled the air, and was only broken a minute or so later by my baby sister, Julia, making slurping noises while in her high chair. "What do you mean? Are you saying we're moving?" I asked, exasperated. "Well I'm saying we might be moving. It's a great opportunity for me, and it'll give us a chance to be closer to our family!" he said, attempting to mend the hurt in our eyes. After a small argument, Leonor and I retreated to our rooms, making sure to slam the doors on the way in. I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to rationalize this situation. It's not like The Netherlands was foreign to me, we go every summer to see family. But being ripped away and living there was what scared me. I had roots here, I had friends. I'd lived in College Station for almost 14 years, and I wasn't ready to leave that.
You always read about these sort of moves in books, but you never expect it to happen to you. A few months passed, and sure enough, we eventually pushed a large red "FOR SALE" sign into the clay-filled Texas dirt. School seemed pointless. After all, we were starting over, the Dutch school we were set to go to would not accept our transcripts, so my sister and I let our grades drop while attempting to cling on to the friendships we'd forged in the years of public schooling we'd had in College Station. Eventually, as the tide of vivid spring colors had just begun to show themselves, we got on a plane to our unknown futures. We'd bought a house in the center of Amsterdam, near Amsterdam University, where my father would begin his new professorship. After we moved into our new home, Leonor and I had a week to acclimate prior to joining our new school. It was an extremely scary process, as we knew genuinely nothing about how the school worked, or what to expect. High school is difficult on its own, and when you throw in only being able to speak the language, not write it, it becomes many times worse. The stressful week before beginning school flew by, and soon we were in the car driving to our second first day of school. We quickly learned that school was far, far different in The Netherlands.
Being Americans, we were already outsiders. We had accents when we spoke Dutch, and we weren't fluent. That's not what set us very apart, though. What set us apart is that we learned that each of our respective classes had been with generally the same 30 people since kindergarten, and we were simply thrown into the mix. To make matters worse, my twin and I were placed in separate classes, so we were by ourselves for the majority of the day. Because the classes were so close knit, it was difficult to make friends, but that didn't necessarily stop us. I've always been sociable, it's why I took the job I have now at Hollister, I enjoy meeting and working with new people. I've always been sociable, it's why I took the job I have now at Hollister, I enjoy meeting and working with new people. This class was tougher though because out of the thirty or so people in it, only five, myself included, were guys. Being the only guys made us bond better, I think. We spent a very large amount of time hanging out together and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.
They changed my perspective on how I saw the world. I saw that regardless of culture, race, or origin, you can always connect with people, generally in ways you may not have expected. When my family returned to the United States some time later for unrelated reasons, I have made sure to keep in contact with the friendships I grew there, and I'm extremely grateful for the experience of a lifetime. While it may have been daunting and terrible at first thought, after it ended I could not have been happier to have had the experience.
As a fourteen-year-old entering my freshman year in high-school, everything was changing pretty rapidly for me. New classes, new school. I was finally a "big kid" in my eyes. The first few weeks went as well as one could expect. Semi-crazy French teacher, a much larger amount of homework, making new friends, all big parts of anyone's high school experience. But it was one November evening while my family and I were seated around the table, my siblings and I picking at our food we weren't all too interested in eating, that we were hit with a bombshell. "So, we have some news to give you guys!" my mom exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "Are we finally going to be able to get a phone upgrade?" my twin sister, Leonor, asked with enthusiasm. "Maybe, but we've got bigger news than that!" my mother said while turning to my father, who was sitting quietly at the head of the table. Whenever my father spoke, he spoke with purpose. This trait was not lost when he began to share the news. "Well, it's not final, and it probably won't happen, but I've been offered a job in Amsterdam. If I accept it, we're going to move there this year." Silence filled the air, and was only broken a minute or so later by my baby sister, Julia, making slurping noises while in her high chair. "What do you mean? Are you saying we're moving?" I asked, exasperated. "Well I'm saying we might be moving. It's a great opportunity for me, and it'll give us a chance to be closer to our family!" he said, attempting to mend the hurt in our eyes. After a small argument, Leonor and I retreated to our rooms, making sure to slam the doors on the way in. I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to rationalize this situation. It's not like The Netherlands was foreign to me, we go every summer to see family. But being ripped away and living there was what scared me. I had roots here, I had friends. I'd lived in College Station for almost 14 years, and I wasn't ready to leave that.
You always read about these sort of moves in books, but you never expect it to happen to you. A few months passed, and sure enough, we eventually pushed a large red "FOR SALE" sign into the clay-filled Texas dirt. School seemed pointless. After all, we were starting over, the Dutch school we were set to go to would not accept our transcripts, so my sister and I let our grades drop while attempting to cling on to the friendships we'd forged in the years of public schooling we'd had in College Station. Eventually, as the tide of vivid spring colors had just begun to show themselves, we got on a plane to our unknown futures. We'd bought a house in the center of Amsterdam, near Amsterdam University, where my father would begin his new professorship. After we moved into our new home, Leonor and I had a week to acclimate prior to joining our new school. It was an extremely scary process, as we knew genuinely nothing about how the school worked, or what to expect. High school is difficult on its own, and when you throw in only being able to speak the language, not write it, it becomes many times worse. The stressful week before beginning school flew by, and soon we were in the car driving to our second first day of school. We quickly learned that school was far, far different in The Netherlands.
Being Americans, we were already outsiders. We had accents when we spoke Dutch, and we weren't fluent. That's not what set us very apart, though. What set us apart is that we learned that each of our respective classes had been with generally the same 30 people since kindergarten, and we were simply thrown into the mix. To make matters worse, my twin and I were placed in separate classes, so we were by ourselves for the majority of the day. Because the classes were so close knit, it was difficult to make friends, but that didn't necessarily stop us. I've always been sociable, it's why I took the job I have now at Hollister, I enjoy meeting and working with new people. I've always been sociable, it's why I took the job I have now at Hollister, I enjoy meeting and working with new people. This class was tougher though because out of the thirty or so people in it, only five, myself included, were guys. Being the only guys made us bond better, I think. We spent a very large amount of time hanging out together and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.
They changed my perspective on how I saw the world. I saw that regardless of culture, race, or origin, you can always connect with people, generally in ways you may not have expected. When my family returned to the United States some time later for unrelated reasons, I have made sure to keep in contact with the friendships I grew there, and I'm extremely grateful for the experience of a lifetime. While it may have been daunting and terrible at first thought, after it ended I could not have been happier to have had the experience.
