At nine years old, I was plucked out of the only world I had known in Mongolia to start life afresh in California with my biological Mongolian mother and new American stepfather. Moving from Mongolia to California to face an unknown future with a new family in a different country is one of the hardest challenges I have faced in life. I was thrown into a completely new world and forced to cope with immense changes. It is to this one experience that I trace the very foundation of my adaptable personality and optimistic attitude.
"To start life afresh in California" - UC, What do you think of it so far?
Good evening :)
I think you're off to a great start. Your descriptions are very vivid, and your tone is wise. You are well organized and your structures look good. I think this will become a great piece.
Regards,
Gloria
Moderator, EssayForum.com
I think you're off to a great start. Your descriptions are very vivid, and your tone is wise. You are well organized and your structures look good. I think this will become a great piece.
Regards,
Gloria
Moderator, EssayForum.com
thank you thank you thank you!! I will post up the finished piece soon.
Hi Gloria, I extended my essay and now I need to cut it down...
At nine-years-old, I was plucked out of the only world I had known in Mongolia to start life afresh in California with my biological Mongolian mother and new American stepfather. Moving from Mongolia to face an unknown future in a different country marks the moment when my life altered forever. Thrown into a completely new world, I was forced to cope with immense changes and adapt quickly. It is to this one experience that I trace the very foundation of my adaptable personality and persevering attitude.
I grew up with my grandparents on the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar. We lived in a dank cement building and depended on my grandma's work as a seamstress. Everyday, we ate strips of dried meat dipped in milk tea. My favorite times were spent playing shagai, a game involving sheep knucklebones. Whenever I whined, grandmother would sternly remind me that I was a descendent of Genghis Khan, a tough warrior who would never tolerate such weakness.
Under the incredibly blue sky, great barren plains stretched into the horizon. Fresh air carried the characteristic smell of mutton. Icy Siberian winds lashed my cheeks red. I woke up before dawn everyday to walk to José Marti Number 52 bundled in layers of wool, crunching snow with careful steps down a familiar old path. I lived in a contained world. Mongolia was all I knew, everything that meant anything to me.
My world transformed when my mother remarried an American man with strange yellow hair and alien blue eyes. Though she had left me as a child to pursue her studies, my mother suddenly took me back. Before soon, I found myself sitting beside a new father flying to California. From a window, I watched myself soar fast away from my old life. Tears welled, but memories of my grandmother reminded me I was a descendent of Genghis Khan. I could not be weak in the face of change. Rather, I resolved to conquer it with an open-mind, believing in my strength to overcome anything.
In moving to California, I became aware of a world I once thought wasn't possible. I realized a future that I would never have imagined. We moved into a house in Kensington and immediately I was put into fourth grade at Kensington Hilltop Elementary. I remember walking into a colorful room full of toys, books and even computers. Kids were drawing and playing games. Nothing compared to the stark classrooms of José Marti Number 52 where children sat in strict rows with only one small notebook and a pencil
At Kensington Elementary, however, I felt alien as with everything else in my new life. Ms. Riviere communicated with me through exaggerated gestures. Kids stared at me with wide eyes. I was unlike anyone else with my long jet-black plaits, red wind-chapped cheeks and rough country complexion. My inability to speak English fueled frustration and loneliness. Even at home, I was still adjusting to life with my once absent mother and new father. Between the life I had led in Mongolia and the new life I faced in California, an unimaginable gulf existed.
It was hard to suddenly accept yet understand my new life, but I am proud that I ultimately adapted quickly and overcame the barriers that initially alienated me. I worked hard to learn English so I could communicate with others besides my mother who constantly translated for me. I wrote down new words I learnt everyday and tried to speak English in class, ignoring snickers when I referred to the past as "the remember time."
This is not finished because I first need to cut down what I have now to include more... Already this is 630 words.. I have to make this essay no more than 700 and I still need to discuss more how the experience makes me proud and how it relates to who I am.. I think I need at least 150 to discuss that.. Please give me any suggestions as to how I can cut this down.. Maybe I should make the intro shorter? But how? Thank you!!
At nine-years-old, I was plucked out of the only world I had known in Mongolia to start life afresh in California with my biological Mongolian mother and new American stepfather. Moving from Mongolia to face an unknown future in a different country marks the moment when my life altered forever. Thrown into a completely new world, I was forced to cope with immense changes and adapt quickly. It is to this one experience that I trace the very foundation of my adaptable personality and persevering attitude.
I grew up with my grandparents on the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar. We lived in a dank cement building and depended on my grandma's work as a seamstress. Everyday, we ate strips of dried meat dipped in milk tea. My favorite times were spent playing shagai, a game involving sheep knucklebones. Whenever I whined, grandmother would sternly remind me that I was a descendent of Genghis Khan, a tough warrior who would never tolerate such weakness.
Under the incredibly blue sky, great barren plains stretched into the horizon. Fresh air carried the characteristic smell of mutton. Icy Siberian winds lashed my cheeks red. I woke up before dawn everyday to walk to José Marti Number 52 bundled in layers of wool, crunching snow with careful steps down a familiar old path. I lived in a contained world. Mongolia was all I knew, everything that meant anything to me.
My world transformed when my mother remarried an American man with strange yellow hair and alien blue eyes. Though she had left me as a child to pursue her studies, my mother suddenly took me back. Before soon, I found myself sitting beside a new father flying to California. From a window, I watched myself soar fast away from my old life. Tears welled, but memories of my grandmother reminded me I was a descendent of Genghis Khan. I could not be weak in the face of change. Rather, I resolved to conquer it with an open-mind, believing in my strength to overcome anything.
In moving to California, I became aware of a world I once thought wasn't possible. I realized a future that I would never have imagined. We moved into a house in Kensington and immediately I was put into fourth grade at Kensington Hilltop Elementary. I remember walking into a colorful room full of toys, books and even computers. Kids were drawing and playing games. Nothing compared to the stark classrooms of José Marti Number 52 where children sat in strict rows with only one small notebook and a pencil
At Kensington Elementary, however, I felt alien as with everything else in my new life. Ms. Riviere communicated with me through exaggerated gestures. Kids stared at me with wide eyes. I was unlike anyone else with my long jet-black plaits, red wind-chapped cheeks and rough country complexion. My inability to speak English fueled frustration and loneliness. Even at home, I was still adjusting to life with my once absent mother and new father. Between the life I had led in Mongolia and the new life I faced in California, an unimaginable gulf existed.
It was hard to suddenly accept yet understand my new life, but I am proud that I ultimately adapted quickly and overcame the barriers that initially alienated me. I worked hard to learn English so I could communicate with others besides my mother who constantly translated for me. I wrote down new words I learnt everyday and tried to speak English in class, ignoring snickers when I referred to the past as "the remember time."
This is not finished because I first need to cut down what I have now to include more... Already this is 630 words.. I have to make this essay no more than 700 and I still need to discuss more how the experience makes me proud and how it relates to who I am.. I think I need at least 150 to discuss that.. Please give me any suggestions as to how I can cut this down.. Maybe I should make the intro shorter? But how? Thank you!!
any help would be great :)
please help...
please help...
Yes, I understand what you mean. I was reading the first few paragraphs, and they are all so well-written that i would hate for you to cut any of them. This material below, though, offers more detail than necessary:
I realized a future that I would never have imagined. We moved into a house in Kensington and immediately I was put into fourth grade at Kensington Hilltop Elementary. I remember walking into a colorful room full of toys, books and even computers. Kids were drawing and playing games. Nothing compared to the stark classrooms of José Marti Number 52 where children sat in strict rows with only one small notebook and a pencil
At Kensington Elementary, however, I felt alien as with everything else in my new life. Ms. Riviere communicated with me through exaggerated gestures. Kids stared at me with wide eyes. I was unlike anyone else with my long jet-black plaits, red wind-chapped cheeks and rough country complexion. My inability to speak English fueled frustration and loneliness. Even at home, I was still adjusting to life with my once absent mother and new father. Between the life I had led in Mongolia and the new life I faced in California, an unimaginable gulf existed.
We don't need to know the names of the teacher and school... maybe you can cut this part down to fewer words to make more room.
Good luck!
Kevin
I realized a future that I would never have imagined. We moved into a house in Kensington and immediately I was put into fourth grade at Kensington Hilltop Elementary. I remember walking into a colorful room full of toys, books and even computers. Kids were drawing and playing games. Nothing compared to the stark classrooms of José Marti Number 52 where children sat in strict rows with only one small notebook and a pencil
At Kensington Elementary, however, I felt alien as with everything else in my new life. Ms. Riviere communicated with me through exaggerated gestures. Kids stared at me with wide eyes. I was unlike anyone else with my long jet-black plaits, red wind-chapped cheeks and rough country complexion. My inability to speak English fueled frustration and loneliness. Even at home, I was still adjusting to life with my once absent mother and new father. Between the life I had led in Mongolia and the new life I faced in California, an unimaginable gulf existed.
We don't need to know the names of the teacher and school... maybe you can cut this part down to fewer words to make more room.
Good luck!
Kevin