So this is the short essay for Georgetown application.
Prompt: In the space available discuss the significance to you of the school or summer activity in which you have been most involved.
I took a step forward and knocked on the door. "Come in, please." Someone said. As I walked in, a dusty odor greeted me, precluding an exciting scene inside the warehouse: people wearing working masks and gloves, swimming in piles of used stuff that reached the ceiling. They were categorizing the stuff, throwing old clothes or worn- out shoes into big containers with labels like "clothes", "shoes", "books". Things with least damages were put into a separate container labeled "charity".
"That is your pile!" A girl came up to me, smiled and handed me a pair of gloves, pointing me to my working area.
So I started sorting through my pile of old stuff. There were all kinds of things laid on top of one another: broken radios, old toys, faded jeans, and stained shirts. Nothing really interested me until I touched an old notebook with leather cover. The handwriting suggested that the owner was a child. Much as I refrained myself from intruding on the privacy of others, I could not help reading the diary as the stories told were closely related to mine when I was that age. I could tell that a girl was writing because she blushed when walking past the school's soccer team and screamed happily when finding the right dress for her school dance.
Putting down the diary, I moved on to other objects in the pile with a new perspective. I wondered what stories they had to tell. My mind was opened to countless questions and speculations. That blue watch could be a child's birthday present from his Mom wishing him to cherish every moment of life or from a girl to her boyfriend reminding him of their date. That black pen could have assisted a five year old in writing his first letters or an author in crafting his novels. I would never know the real story, but I had found a new meaning to my seemingly ordinary job. I was not merely putting things into the right box but I was thinking, questioning, imagining and smiling.
This is what I have been doing for the past three summers. When my friends are spending time at the beach, the shopping mall or the library, I find my own personal satisfaction hanging out with these old things. The sorted out objects are brought to the "Mottainai fair" where people can exchange coupons for the things they need, reducing the amount of waste in the city. Saying good bye to these objects is never easy but the smell I get from delving myself in the piles of stuff- the dusty odor unique to old things- makes me proud that I have once been part of their stories.
-> what do you guys think? Have I made my points clear in the essay? Also, I'm an international so any help with the word choice and grammar will be greatly appreciated.
Thank you so much!
Prompt: In the space available discuss the significance to you of the school or summer activity in which you have been most involved.
I took a step forward and knocked on the door. "Come in, please." Someone said. As I walked in, a dusty odor greeted me, precluding an exciting scene inside the warehouse: people wearing working masks and gloves, swimming in piles of used stuff that reached the ceiling. They were categorizing the stuff, throwing old clothes or worn- out shoes into big containers with labels like "clothes", "shoes", "books". Things with least damages were put into a separate container labeled "charity".
"That is your pile!" A girl came up to me, smiled and handed me a pair of gloves, pointing me to my working area.
So I started sorting through my pile of old stuff. There were all kinds of things laid on top of one another: broken radios, old toys, faded jeans, and stained shirts. Nothing really interested me until I touched an old notebook with leather cover. The handwriting suggested that the owner was a child. Much as I refrained myself from intruding on the privacy of others, I could not help reading the diary as the stories told were closely related to mine when I was that age. I could tell that a girl was writing because she blushed when walking past the school's soccer team and screamed happily when finding the right dress for her school dance.
Putting down the diary, I moved on to other objects in the pile with a new perspective. I wondered what stories they had to tell. My mind was opened to countless questions and speculations. That blue watch could be a child's birthday present from his Mom wishing him to cherish every moment of life or from a girl to her boyfriend reminding him of their date. That black pen could have assisted a five year old in writing his first letters or an author in crafting his novels. I would never know the real story, but I had found a new meaning to my seemingly ordinary job. I was not merely putting things into the right box but I was thinking, questioning, imagining and smiling.
This is what I have been doing for the past three summers. When my friends are spending time at the beach, the shopping mall or the library, I find my own personal satisfaction hanging out with these old things. The sorted out objects are brought to the "Mottainai fair" where people can exchange coupons for the things they need, reducing the amount of waste in the city. Saying good bye to these objects is never easy but the smell I get from delving myself in the piles of stuff- the dusty odor unique to old things- makes me proud that I have once been part of their stories.
-> what do you guys think? Have I made my points clear in the essay? Also, I'm an international so any help with the word choice and grammar will be greatly appreciated.
Thank you so much!
