I'm writing a personal statement. The topic is not limited, so I am somewhat lost in writing it. I'm not sure whether this PS helps to show my personality. And especially paragraph 5, I wonder if it works logically. I need your help urgently!!! Thanks a lot! What's more, is my title "RABBIT SISTER" proper?
THE ESSAY GOES AS FOLLOWS:
RABBIT SISTER
The classroom was filled with chaos. My thirty mentally handicapped students, some rushing in back of the classroom, a few grappling and sharply screaming in their seats, and the others dazing off just under my eyes, were all neglecting my miserable efforts to attract their attention. My patience was rapidly approaching its limit.
I did not want to wait for their silence any more; I used my whole force to rap the teacher's desk and cried out, "Listen to me!" Everyone was stunned at once, turned around and stared at me with widened eyes as if they had just noticed me. One or two kids grumbled with dirty words. My face was immediately burned, and my tears quickly blurred my eyes. I tried to calm down, and made a condolatory smile, attempting to ease the tension in the air. However, the children were out of control once again, not caring a fig about my feelings. Something stung my heart; I had never been neglected like this; I had even fondly expected them to behave obediently, fascinated by my pictures I prepared elaborately, but now they were treating me like I was a meaningless clown.
How could I bear that? Looking at the kids through my misty eyes, I wondered suddenly, that why I eagerly volunteered to waste time to teach these boorish kids despite the increasing demands of my high school? Why should I spend an hour every midday, starving myself, just to travel to this shabby special education school to meet the children who had no idea what I was doing?
I joined in the volunteer organization of my school once it was set up, thinking that I was going to do something for those in need right away. It should be a meaningful yet easy job for me, I thought, and I had never anticipated any challenge in it. A volunteer, in my mind, was supposed to wear a special orange uniform and to smile widely at the old and the small, singing together with everybody cheerfully. And when I really stood in the children's classroom, where my job was to take place, I got totally scared and I flinched. To both the kids and me, we were too strange to start a conversation, and the poor me couldn't even get a chance to be arresting to them.
For several days, I had been thinking about that noon all the time. I found myself partly frustrated and wounded, yet I still kept a hope to handle the situation well. I had been overcoming numerous challenges every year in my life: I obtained the level ten certificate of piano after six years' exhausting practice; I accomplished my goal to get straight A's on my school reports by working persistently; I won the honor of outstanding student of my junior and senior middle school every semester by competing with my schoolmates in every aspect. I had been through all the difficulties, always clinging to the words "grasp the hope". Thus, I never lost confidence and perseverance, which supported me all the time. How could the word "give up" possibly get into my mind? I pondered. Then I decided to change my topic of the next lesson, hoping the kids would be interested.
In the next class I jumped into the classroom, dressed in my handmade paper costume-a white rabbit clothes. I crow hopped awkwardly, limited by the paper clothes, and finally reached the platform. My students were all surprised again, however also amused. I said in an imagined rabbit-like tone, "Hey everybody, let's play games today!" All the kids cheered, rushed to me, and excitedly touched my funny costume. I was somewhat encouraged greatly: at least they focused on me. I told them that I wanted to play the word chain game, and they gladly obeyed me at once. To my surprise, mental retardation did not restrict their minds: they acted wonderfully with a large vocabulary. When I was standing amidst those kids, hearing them speak loudly and urgently, I was so proud of them, all my lovely students. Yes, I was a clown this time in a foolish rabbit costume, but I felt truly happy, and so did the kids. Their pink faces looked like blooming flowers, shining towards me, and their joyful laughter was so sweet that I could recall them even several months has past now.
At that time I figured it out, the answers to the questions once I asked myself. I volunteered to do the job to bring happiness to these fancy free children, but not simply to take charge of them for two hours a day and step onto the platform with my distant sympathy. In the rest time of my work, I played with the kids every day. We watched cartoons together, drawing colorful pictures with new pens, and we talked about our dreams like best friends. And they even invited me to play table tennis. We were about the same level at playing that, but it was really fun for all of us. They intimately called me Rabbit Sister, well, and I had to say that I loved this name given by these great kids.
In my last class, my students spontaneously sang me a pop song, The Invisible Wings. I was incurably lost in their song. With thirty different pitches, these kids were singing for their beautiful dreams we once talked about together, and at that moment they seemed to have the invisible wings glinting behind. That was my tears.
I should say that I love the kids, not as a sympathetic volunteer from a decent high school, but rather as their Rabbit Sister, who truly treasured the wonderful happiness gained in time spent with them. To me, the name Rabbit Sister was an honor as well as all those I achieved in school. And this important experience also rescued me from that self-centered, cold person I once had been.
THE ESSAY GOES AS FOLLOWS:
RABBIT SISTER
The classroom was filled with chaos. My thirty mentally handicapped students, some rushing in back of the classroom, a few grappling and sharply screaming in their seats, and the others dazing off just under my eyes, were all neglecting my miserable efforts to attract their attention. My patience was rapidly approaching its limit.
I did not want to wait for their silence any more; I used my whole force to rap the teacher's desk and cried out, "Listen to me!" Everyone was stunned at once, turned around and stared at me with widened eyes as if they had just noticed me. One or two kids grumbled with dirty words. My face was immediately burned, and my tears quickly blurred my eyes. I tried to calm down, and made a condolatory smile, attempting to ease the tension in the air. However, the children were out of control once again, not caring a fig about my feelings. Something stung my heart; I had never been neglected like this; I had even fondly expected them to behave obediently, fascinated by my pictures I prepared elaborately, but now they were treating me like I was a meaningless clown.
How could I bear that? Looking at the kids through my misty eyes, I wondered suddenly, that why I eagerly volunteered to waste time to teach these boorish kids despite the increasing demands of my high school? Why should I spend an hour every midday, starving myself, just to travel to this shabby special education school to meet the children who had no idea what I was doing?
I joined in the volunteer organization of my school once it was set up, thinking that I was going to do something for those in need right away. It should be a meaningful yet easy job for me, I thought, and I had never anticipated any challenge in it. A volunteer, in my mind, was supposed to wear a special orange uniform and to smile widely at the old and the small, singing together with everybody cheerfully. And when I really stood in the children's classroom, where my job was to take place, I got totally scared and I flinched. To both the kids and me, we were too strange to start a conversation, and the poor me couldn't even get a chance to be arresting to them.
For several days, I had been thinking about that noon all the time. I found myself partly frustrated and wounded, yet I still kept a hope to handle the situation well. I had been overcoming numerous challenges every year in my life: I obtained the level ten certificate of piano after six years' exhausting practice; I accomplished my goal to get straight A's on my school reports by working persistently; I won the honor of outstanding student of my junior and senior middle school every semester by competing with my schoolmates in every aspect. I had been through all the difficulties, always clinging to the words "grasp the hope". Thus, I never lost confidence and perseverance, which supported me all the time. How could the word "give up" possibly get into my mind? I pondered. Then I decided to change my topic of the next lesson, hoping the kids would be interested.
In the next class I jumped into the classroom, dressed in my handmade paper costume-a white rabbit clothes. I crow hopped awkwardly, limited by the paper clothes, and finally reached the platform. My students were all surprised again, however also amused. I said in an imagined rabbit-like tone, "Hey everybody, let's play games today!" All the kids cheered, rushed to me, and excitedly touched my funny costume. I was somewhat encouraged greatly: at least they focused on me. I told them that I wanted to play the word chain game, and they gladly obeyed me at once. To my surprise, mental retardation did not restrict their minds: they acted wonderfully with a large vocabulary. When I was standing amidst those kids, hearing them speak loudly and urgently, I was so proud of them, all my lovely students. Yes, I was a clown this time in a foolish rabbit costume, but I felt truly happy, and so did the kids. Their pink faces looked like blooming flowers, shining towards me, and their joyful laughter was so sweet that I could recall them even several months has past now.
At that time I figured it out, the answers to the questions once I asked myself. I volunteered to do the job to bring happiness to these fancy free children, but not simply to take charge of them for two hours a day and step onto the platform with my distant sympathy. In the rest time of my work, I played with the kids every day. We watched cartoons together, drawing colorful pictures with new pens, and we talked about our dreams like best friends. And they even invited me to play table tennis. We were about the same level at playing that, but it was really fun for all of us. They intimately called me Rabbit Sister, well, and I had to say that I loved this name given by these great kids.
In my last class, my students spontaneously sang me a pop song, The Invisible Wings. I was incurably lost in their song. With thirty different pitches, these kids were singing for their beautiful dreams we once talked about together, and at that moment they seemed to have the invisible wings glinting behind. That was my tears.
I should say that I love the kids, not as a sympathetic volunteer from a decent high school, but rather as their Rabbit Sister, who truly treasured the wonderful happiness gained in time spent with them. To me, the name Rabbit Sister was an honor as well as all those I achieved in school. And this important experience also rescued me from that self-centered, cold person I once had been.