Prompt: Stanford students possess an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development.
My essay is exactly 2000 characters, which is the max limit.
Please leave any critical comments or corrections. Thank you for your time, and Happy Holidays!
Essay:
Baptized under my grandma's propaganda on the Japanese culture of how hateful they were, I grew up thinking that I would never forgive any human of the Japanese blood. During the Japanese invasion in China around the time of World War II, my grandma's childhood was taken away; she saw the eye of death down the barrel of a rifle from a Japanese soldier, forcing her to give all her belongings of weariness as a token to live. I was convinced that the Japanese were apathetic people.
Desperate for community service hours, I was offered a volunteer spot by my friend, at a place I was unfamiliar of, called the "Nisei Veterans Center." As I entered this center, I realized that it was a Japanese veteran memorial hall of world war two. There were Japanese veterans that were looked up as heroes by assistants, while I thought of them as enemies who contributed to my grandma's oblivion. I stood in awe and melancholy, until a Japanese veteran came up to me, and asked "Hi, you look bored, want to see some World War II guns?" I instantly responded "Sure!" I entered a new realm full of real guns used in the war, and the Japanese veteran picked up a Thompson rifle, and said "I was a young Japanese soldier who had to be deployed to Japan and fight against my own blood raced people. But I guess I rather fight than to stay in that horrifying nasty internment camp, where I had nothing except my family (he sighed and paused). It seemed as when every bullet shot out, a tear came out of my eyes. I was also in a battle in my mind, whether to betray my American allies, or to betray my Japanese culture (he looked as if he was about to cry)."
His words changed my perception on the Japanese; I became unbaptized from my grandma's words. This Japanese man fought for the soil I live on, America, against his own kind, even knowing that the Americans tossed his life behind bars. In consolation, I put my hand on my head, and saluted him. I then gave him a handshake, and stated "You are a heroic man."
My essay is exactly 2000 characters, which is the max limit.
Please leave any critical comments or corrections. Thank you for your time, and Happy Holidays!
Essay:
Baptized under my grandma's propaganda on the Japanese culture of how hateful they were, I grew up thinking that I would never forgive any human of the Japanese blood. During the Japanese invasion in China around the time of World War II, my grandma's childhood was taken away; she saw the eye of death down the barrel of a rifle from a Japanese soldier, forcing her to give all her belongings of weariness as a token to live. I was convinced that the Japanese were apathetic people.
Desperate for community service hours, I was offered a volunteer spot by my friend, at a place I was unfamiliar of, called the "Nisei Veterans Center." As I entered this center, I realized that it was a Japanese veteran memorial hall of world war two. There were Japanese veterans that were looked up as heroes by assistants, while I thought of them as enemies who contributed to my grandma's oblivion. I stood in awe and melancholy, until a Japanese veteran came up to me, and asked "Hi, you look bored, want to see some World War II guns?" I instantly responded "Sure!" I entered a new realm full of real guns used in the war, and the Japanese veteran picked up a Thompson rifle, and said "I was a young Japanese soldier who had to be deployed to Japan and fight against my own blood raced people. But I guess I rather fight than to stay in that horrifying nasty internment camp, where I had nothing except my family (he sighed and paused). It seemed as when every bullet shot out, a tear came out of my eyes. I was also in a battle in my mind, whether to betray my American allies, or to betray my Japanese culture (he looked as if he was about to cry)."
His words changed my perception on the Japanese; I became unbaptized from my grandma's words. This Japanese man fought for the soil I live on, America, against his own kind, even knowing that the Americans tossed his life behind bars. In consolation, I put my hand on my head, and saluted him. I then gave him a handshake, and stated "You are a heroic man."