There was food everywhere, paper in the air, and kids running around. I started to second-guess myself; can I really tutor these kids? Just to think hat I was their age a few years ago sped my heart up and I wanted to quietly leave. But a promise is a promise, so I took a deep breath, calmed down, and drew their attention. I began the math lesson with a game, they miraculously sat down and started to listen. At the end of my lesson, I looked around the room and I realized that not only had I captured their attention for the entire lesson but also many of them had the "eureka" face. Then it dawned me, even with public speaking, I still loved teaching; it was priceless to watch a student finally grasp a concept s/he did not understand before. After a year or two of tutoring, I discovered that public speaking was not my biggest fear anymore; I am able to give speeches in front of the school and share my opinions in class. Now I continue to tutor students and instead of the dread I felt at first, it is now the most enjoyable time of my week to see their faces light up after class.
IT'S TOO LONG, I NEED TO CUT 100 Characters ish. PLEASE HELP
Common App essay:
topic of choice
My parents have always found the need for their child, me, to be well-rounded so in addition to school, I would participate in tons of extracurricular activities. After school, I would always be bused or driven to Chinese class, swimming, skating, skiing, and etcetera; I felt like the busiest kid at that time, with less than half an hour to eat dinner every night. But out of all those activities, only one was memorable. I started to play piano when I was eight years old, through it I have learned many significant principles that I continue to value to this day.
However, I did not always perceive piano as beneficial. Every day, after all my extracurricular activities I would practice for a long time. White key, black key, white key and the pattern repeats, it felt as if I have been playing the same notes over and over again. I watched my friends play outside while I practiced Mozart or Beethoven. Every Friday, I would rush home, squeeze sometime for last minute practicing until my piano lesson. My piano teacher, would always arrive 4:55pm, never late, and he would always tell me to "play with feeling" or "find that colour". Inside, I was always questioning him, how can a black, rectangular box with a few string make a colour? Maybe he played piano for so long that he became a bit crazy. Despite my concern, I would always imitate his playing and would be praised for my quickness to understand him even though I never actually understood what he said. But according to my parents, all the practicing was worth it; I had received many awards, passed many RCM levels, and performed in many recitals. Yet, I did not share the same feelings; I felt only torture. So eventually, the friction between my parents and I broke into flames; through a showdown of smashing the piano for an hour, the subject of piano dropped within the family.
I had tons of free time and I was happy at first, since I could now do whatever I pleased. But after a year, my fingers started to itch. Bizarrely, I wanted to touch the piano; I sat down, opened the cover, and started to play the piece that is stamped in my heart: Sonata in C, 3rd movement by Mozart. However, this time, it felt different, I heard the music rather than see only the two-coloured keys. Furthermore, a feeling that I had not felt before arouse when I began playing, it was the feeling of serenity. Every note I played brought me more to a calmer self and I was able to release the stress I had into the music pieces. In my hectic schedule, I was able to find comfort and to express myself through piano. After having bombed a math test, I can release the frustrations through music from the piano but this time of course, not by smashing the keys.
Eventually, I started to take piano lessons again, not for the glory or fame, but for the simple enjoyment of piano. This second time, I am able to experience the majestic grace or the nostalgic ________. I am able to paint a colour with my playing, I now understand that "colour" feeling my teacher repeatedly mentioned and no, he is not crazy. In addition, I realized the potential in the pieces for my interpretation to turn the Beethoven rondo into a possibly unique Mimi version. Now instead of mimicking my teacher, I add my own touches with maybe a staccato or ritardando. I sit there, my fingers hitting the keys sometimes heavy sometimes light but no matter, I am able to speak through my playing, through my piano I can play what I cannot say. With my new found love for the piano, practicing does not seem as painful and the "feeling" my teacher wanted now seem to flow out easily. Last but not least, my parents are finally able to listen to their daughter play music and enjoy it as well.
IT'S TOO LONG, I NEED TO CUT 100 Characters ish. PLEASE HELP
Common App essay:
topic of choice
My parents have always found the need for their child, me, to be well-rounded so in addition to school, I would participate in tons of extracurricular activities. After school, I would always be bused or driven to Chinese class, swimming, skating, skiing, and etcetera; I felt like the busiest kid at that time, with less than half an hour to eat dinner every night. But out of all those activities, only one was memorable. I started to play piano when I was eight years old, through it I have learned many significant principles that I continue to value to this day.
However, I did not always perceive piano as beneficial. Every day, after all my extracurricular activities I would practice for a long time. White key, black key, white key and the pattern repeats, it felt as if I have been playing the same notes over and over again. I watched my friends play outside while I practiced Mozart or Beethoven. Every Friday, I would rush home, squeeze sometime for last minute practicing until my piano lesson. My piano teacher, would always arrive 4:55pm, never late, and he would always tell me to "play with feeling" or "find that colour". Inside, I was always questioning him, how can a black, rectangular box with a few string make a colour? Maybe he played piano for so long that he became a bit crazy. Despite my concern, I would always imitate his playing and would be praised for my quickness to understand him even though I never actually understood what he said. But according to my parents, all the practicing was worth it; I had received many awards, passed many RCM levels, and performed in many recitals. Yet, I did not share the same feelings; I felt only torture. So eventually, the friction between my parents and I broke into flames; through a showdown of smashing the piano for an hour, the subject of piano dropped within the family.
I had tons of free time and I was happy at first, since I could now do whatever I pleased. But after a year, my fingers started to itch. Bizarrely, I wanted to touch the piano; I sat down, opened the cover, and started to play the piece that is stamped in my heart: Sonata in C, 3rd movement by Mozart. However, this time, it felt different, I heard the music rather than see only the two-coloured keys. Furthermore, a feeling that I had not felt before arouse when I began playing, it was the feeling of serenity. Every note I played brought me more to a calmer self and I was able to release the stress I had into the music pieces. In my hectic schedule, I was able to find comfort and to express myself through piano. After having bombed a math test, I can release the frustrations through music from the piano but this time of course, not by smashing the keys.
Eventually, I started to take piano lessons again, not for the glory or fame, but for the simple enjoyment of piano. This second time, I am able to experience the majestic grace or the nostalgic ________. I am able to paint a colour with my playing, I now understand that "colour" feeling my teacher repeatedly mentioned and no, he is not crazy. In addition, I realized the potential in the pieces for my interpretation to turn the Beethoven rondo into a possibly unique Mimi version. Now instead of mimicking my teacher, I add my own touches with maybe a staccato or ritardando. I sit there, my fingers hitting the keys sometimes heavy sometimes light but no matter, I am able to speak through my playing, through my piano I can play what I cannot say. With my new found love for the piano, practicing does not seem as painful and the "feeling" my teacher wanted now seem to flow out easily. Last but not least, my parents are finally able to listen to their daughter play music and enjoy it as well.
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