I need some opinions on this essay. Does it even answer the prompt? Should I rewrite it/ write about something else? If not, how can it be fixed?
How will a Notre Dame education enable you to answer the call to "use wisely the blessings of freedom, in order to build a future of hope" for others in your own way?
My father is the Indian version of Socrates. Occasionally, he feels inclined to share his words of wisdom at the dinner table. My brother and I groan, and my father chuckles, but continues on: "In life..." The subjects of his philosophical lectures range from self-improvement to "unlocking the secret to happiness." In the past, I often brushed off his lessons as parental counsel prompted by obligation. However, at times some of his teachings flicker with meaning, and others completely illuminate with it. The message most visible to me is that of helping those less fortunate.
Eight years old, I was ambling through India's dusty streets when I felt a small tug on my dress. I turned around to find a young girl, half naked and hair matted with dirt. She held up a set of sandalwood key chains and gestured that she was hungry. I was shocked, uncertain what to do. My father then intervened. He handed her some money and said to me, "In life, whatever you do, be happy and do good for the world." I examined the key chains. They were beautifully crafted; each one had a different animal carved into it. I held them for a while, tracing each crevice.
I spent the next few days contemplating how to resolve world poverty. Finally, I devised an ingenious plan: one day, I would become rich and give 100 dollars to every beggar in the world. That would do it.
As I matured, I realized my "plan" was impractical, but my vision of helping the needy remained. I wrote a speech promoting the topic and earned my highest grades on essays that discussed it. However, I was uncertain how I would personally work to achieve it.
Then, I discovered my love for biology. The cell; DNA; the notion that life was governed by proteins. I was fascinated. Nevertheless, in the seventh grade I had ruled out the prospect of entering the medical field. The reason was simple- dissection. I hated killing... well, anything. Be it snails or butterflies, I was the defender of all animals. (Furthermore, my lab group performed the three-day rat dissection with one glove. I was traumatized.) When my father's friends asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I responded, "Anything but a doctor." However, my sophomore year I allowed dissection another chance. It was difficult, but I ultimately concluded that it was acceptable to sacrifice a few living creatures for the greater good.
I aspire to one day provide medical aid to a third world community. Or to one day discover the cure to a debilitating disease. I aspire to one day help those in need. Many years have passed, but I still have one of the sandalwood key chains. Sometimes I rub it between my fingers and recall my father's words, "Be happy and do good for the world." I smile to myself, "Don't worry, Appa, I will."
How will a Notre Dame education enable you to answer the call to "use wisely the blessings of freedom, in order to build a future of hope" for others in your own way?
My father is the Indian version of Socrates. Occasionally, he feels inclined to share his words of wisdom at the dinner table. My brother and I groan, and my father chuckles, but continues on: "In life..." The subjects of his philosophical lectures range from self-improvement to "unlocking the secret to happiness." In the past, I often brushed off his lessons as parental counsel prompted by obligation. However, at times some of his teachings flicker with meaning, and others completely illuminate with it. The message most visible to me is that of helping those less fortunate.
Eight years old, I was ambling through India's dusty streets when I felt a small tug on my dress. I turned around to find a young girl, half naked and hair matted with dirt. She held up a set of sandalwood key chains and gestured that she was hungry. I was shocked, uncertain what to do. My father then intervened. He handed her some money and said to me, "In life, whatever you do, be happy and do good for the world." I examined the key chains. They were beautifully crafted; each one had a different animal carved into it. I held them for a while, tracing each crevice.
I spent the next few days contemplating how to resolve world poverty. Finally, I devised an ingenious plan: one day, I would become rich and give 100 dollars to every beggar in the world. That would do it.
As I matured, I realized my "plan" was impractical, but my vision of helping the needy remained. I wrote a speech promoting the topic and earned my highest grades on essays that discussed it. However, I was uncertain how I would personally work to achieve it.
Then, I discovered my love for biology. The cell; DNA; the notion that life was governed by proteins. I was fascinated. Nevertheless, in the seventh grade I had ruled out the prospect of entering the medical field. The reason was simple- dissection. I hated killing... well, anything. Be it snails or butterflies, I was the defender of all animals. (Furthermore, my lab group performed the three-day rat dissection with one glove. I was traumatized.) When my father's friends asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I responded, "Anything but a doctor." However, my sophomore year I allowed dissection another chance. It was difficult, but I ultimately concluded that it was acceptable to sacrifice a few living creatures for the greater good.
I aspire to one day provide medical aid to a third world community. Or to one day discover the cure to a debilitating disease. I aspire to one day help those in need. Many years have passed, but I still have one of the sandalwood key chains. Sometimes I rub it between my fingers and recall my father's words, "Be happy and do good for the world." I smile to myself, "Don't worry, Appa, I will."