Constructive criticism please!
Every day, as I drive to Sedro Woolley High School, I undergo the same experience. I wait for what seems like an eternity at the unavoidable red light by the small town's only fast food joint, drive past the sign that announces Sedro Woolley as "The Gateway to the North Cascades" and into my high school parking lot, which is dominated by enormous, gas guzzling trucks. I scrunch my battered Nissan Altima between two trucks that are taking up three parking spaces, and every day-without fail-I receive looks of disgust as my fellow students stare at my Obama 2012 bumper sticker.
This is why I want a school where I can be myself. I am desperate for the kind of intellectual and social challenge that is part of the Reed experience. In my AP calculus class I am an island. I have no support from my teacher, and my fellow students are interested in memorization rather than inquiry. My classmates stare at me disapproval when I ask "why"? Why does the Pythagorean Theorem work? Why does the second derivative equal acceleration? At Reed I would be around students who want to know why and where intellectual inquiry is a given. A key part of learning to me involves being able to interact with my teachers and peers and to continue conversations beyond the walls of the classroom. This is what Reed is all about, and I want to be part of that intellectual community. I do not only want to take support, but to give it as well. Inquiry is a two way street. I want to share my opinions and my ideas and be part the intellectual conversation.
From growing up in a small town in rural Washington I have learned that diversity appears in unexpected places, and no one, including me, is average. My high school is dominated by Confederate flags and cowboy boots, and many of my friends learn to drive John Deere tractors before they hit puberty. But a closer look at the students in my high school reveals a diverse and vibrant community. Some of my friends are white, some Hispanic, and my best friend is Japanese. My Biology partner comes from the wealthiest family in Skagit valley, and in Calculus I sit next to my friend Yuka, an exchange student from Mongolia. Too often people and places are labeled based on stereotypes, but such generalizations miss the full story. Everyone contributes to cultural diversity; it is not defined in terms of labels or particular groups. It is important for me to go to a school where there is diversity, and I am excited to meet students from cultures I know nothing about, and to learn about things I do not even know exist. I look forward to challenging myself to go beyond the labels. Being a student at Reed would offer me the chance to do this.
I want to be part of a community that accepts and embraces difference. I have accepted that I am a very strange person. I have bright red hair, an odd obsession with flannel shirts and platypuses, I write love poems about potatoes, and I am the only person in my town with a sonic screwdriver. I am not looking for other red-headed potato poets, but for people who are as proud of their individuality as I am. And I know at Reed I could find this. Reed is a school where people are not trying to find other people like them, but who are trying to learn from people who are not like them. At this diverse community I know I will find my place. I want to be able to drive around with my Obama Sticker, and for people to think about who I am as a person and who I can contribute, rather than my bright-red hair.
Every day, as I drive to Sedro Woolley High School, I undergo the same experience. I wait for what seems like an eternity at the unavoidable red light by the small town's only fast food joint, drive past the sign that announces Sedro Woolley as "The Gateway to the North Cascades" and into my high school parking lot, which is dominated by enormous, gas guzzling trucks. I scrunch my battered Nissan Altima between two trucks that are taking up three parking spaces, and every day-without fail-I receive looks of disgust as my fellow students stare at my Obama 2012 bumper sticker.
This is why I want a school where I can be myself. I am desperate for the kind of intellectual and social challenge that is part of the Reed experience. In my AP calculus class I am an island. I have no support from my teacher, and my fellow students are interested in memorization rather than inquiry. My classmates stare at me disapproval when I ask "why"? Why does the Pythagorean Theorem work? Why does the second derivative equal acceleration? At Reed I would be around students who want to know why and where intellectual inquiry is a given. A key part of learning to me involves being able to interact with my teachers and peers and to continue conversations beyond the walls of the classroom. This is what Reed is all about, and I want to be part of that intellectual community. I do not only want to take support, but to give it as well. Inquiry is a two way street. I want to share my opinions and my ideas and be part the intellectual conversation.
From growing up in a small town in rural Washington I have learned that diversity appears in unexpected places, and no one, including me, is average. My high school is dominated by Confederate flags and cowboy boots, and many of my friends learn to drive John Deere tractors before they hit puberty. But a closer look at the students in my high school reveals a diverse and vibrant community. Some of my friends are white, some Hispanic, and my best friend is Japanese. My Biology partner comes from the wealthiest family in Skagit valley, and in Calculus I sit next to my friend Yuka, an exchange student from Mongolia. Too often people and places are labeled based on stereotypes, but such generalizations miss the full story. Everyone contributes to cultural diversity; it is not defined in terms of labels or particular groups. It is important for me to go to a school where there is diversity, and I am excited to meet students from cultures I know nothing about, and to learn about things I do not even know exist. I look forward to challenging myself to go beyond the labels. Being a student at Reed would offer me the chance to do this.
I want to be part of a community that accepts and embraces difference. I have accepted that I am a very strange person. I have bright red hair, an odd obsession with flannel shirts and platypuses, I write love poems about potatoes, and I am the only person in my town with a sonic screwdriver. I am not looking for other red-headed potato poets, but for people who are as proud of their individuality as I am. And I know at Reed I could find this. Reed is a school where people are not trying to find other people like them, but who are trying to learn from people who are not like them. At this diverse community I know I will find my place. I want to be able to drive around with my Obama Sticker, and for people to think about who I am as a person and who I can contribute, rather than my bright-red hair.