My response to the "significant experience" prompt for the CommonApp. Any and all feedback is much appreciated. I feel like the majority of work needs to be done in the final paragraph...
From a young age I could tell there was something different about my mother. No, she was able to tell if I had brushed my teeth, and she, like most mothers, could tell when I was lying about missing sweets. She, however, spoke differently than the other mothers.
My mother is Canadian (hence the different speech). Technically, she was Canadian. She gave up her citizenship to become an American shortly before marrying my father (a strictly American citizen), but is now a dual-citizen-like me. At age five we flew into Toronto, her hometown, and this situation was revealed to me.
By age twelve, I had my dual-citizenship, and Canada and I were close friends. I knew all her quirks (and she knew all mine), from the term "eh", to her citizens' infatuation with Canadian Tire (the Canadian version of Home Depot), to her inside jokes-particularly in regard to hockey players, the United States, and England.
Though I visit Canada often, it seems that new concepts are exchanged in every conversation-their milk system (in which milk is sold in plastic bags as opposed to containers), the United States' affection for great American hero Burt Reynolds, or any other cultural eccentricity that could arise in conversation. I learn about Canada. Canada learns about the U.S. of A.
Despite my familiarity with Canada, my adopted homeland, the Texan has held fast in me. My southern quirks and idiosyncrasies, in fact, nearly resulted in widespread panic in a small town in Southern Ontario one afternoon when I was fourteen.
"Hey y'all," I shouted as my cousin and a group of his friends walked up to my aunt's driveway. "What's going on?"
Frozen still with a dazed glaze frosting their eyes, they sat silent, staring at me in awe.
One of the fifteen-year-olds took a gulp then mustered out, "What did you just say?"-his voice cracking as he muttered out the last bit.
"Hey. What's going on?" I replied.
"No. You said 'y'all', didn't you?" he quickly retorted.
Slightly confused, I spoke slowly, with a hint of curiosity in my tone. "Oh. I guess. Why?"
"Say it again," he commanded.
"Y'all."
They all gasped. A flood of questions came regarding how serious I was when I said it, if everyone in Texas said it, how to say it, and a variety of other seemingly insightful questions for them. I had never answered so many questions for a group of Canadian teens before. My first experience of this nature tickled me to say the least.
This is one of a few incidents that displays a stark contrast between our two cultures. Canadians consistently inquire about my opinion of former president George W. Bush-even after his departure of office. The conversation, however, is difficult to carry on because of the differences in societal structure. A moderately socialist government questioning the actions of the most democratic leads to misconceptions and difficulties in explaining actions, or lack thereof, on behalf of government officials-particularly with sensitive topics such as healthcare, war, and taxation. Just as most Americans are unable to imagine an income tax floor of 15 percent, Canadians are unable to imagine their country at war.
My experiences with these issues of varying magnitude led me to realize where my future lay. I am perfect for international business. I love money. With the help of a financial advisor, I had invested in mutual funds when I was ten and nearly quadrupled my investment by the time I was fourteen. My diplomacy talents became evident as I overcome language barriers and talked politics with the best of international citizens. And to top these off, I have a vast knowledge of the Canadian language, as I know the proper use of "eh", thus making me bilingual. I do not, however, have a college degree.
(636 words)
From a young age I could tell there was something different about my mother. No, she was able to tell if I had brushed my teeth, and she, like most mothers, could tell when I was lying about missing sweets. She, however, spoke differently than the other mothers.
My mother is Canadian (hence the different speech). Technically, she was Canadian. She gave up her citizenship to become an American shortly before marrying my father (a strictly American citizen), but is now a dual-citizen-like me. At age five we flew into Toronto, her hometown, and this situation was revealed to me.
By age twelve, I had my dual-citizenship, and Canada and I were close friends. I knew all her quirks (and she knew all mine), from the term "eh", to her citizens' infatuation with Canadian Tire (the Canadian version of Home Depot), to her inside jokes-particularly in regard to hockey players, the United States, and England.
Though I visit Canada often, it seems that new concepts are exchanged in every conversation-their milk system (in which milk is sold in plastic bags as opposed to containers), the United States' affection for great American hero Burt Reynolds, or any other cultural eccentricity that could arise in conversation. I learn about Canada. Canada learns about the U.S. of A.
Despite my familiarity with Canada, my adopted homeland, the Texan has held fast in me. My southern quirks and idiosyncrasies, in fact, nearly resulted in widespread panic in a small town in Southern Ontario one afternoon when I was fourteen.
"Hey y'all," I shouted as my cousin and a group of his friends walked up to my aunt's driveway. "What's going on?"
Frozen still with a dazed glaze frosting their eyes, they sat silent, staring at me in awe.
One of the fifteen-year-olds took a gulp then mustered out, "What did you just say?"-his voice cracking as he muttered out the last bit.
"Hey. What's going on?" I replied.
"No. You said 'y'all', didn't you?" he quickly retorted.
Slightly confused, I spoke slowly, with a hint of curiosity in my tone. "Oh. I guess. Why?"
"Say it again," he commanded.
"Y'all."
They all gasped. A flood of questions came regarding how serious I was when I said it, if everyone in Texas said it, how to say it, and a variety of other seemingly insightful questions for them. I had never answered so many questions for a group of Canadian teens before. My first experience of this nature tickled me to say the least.
This is one of a few incidents that displays a stark contrast between our two cultures. Canadians consistently inquire about my opinion of former president George W. Bush-even after his departure of office. The conversation, however, is difficult to carry on because of the differences in societal structure. A moderately socialist government questioning the actions of the most democratic leads to misconceptions and difficulties in explaining actions, or lack thereof, on behalf of government officials-particularly with sensitive topics such as healthcare, war, and taxation. Just as most Americans are unable to imagine an income tax floor of 15 percent, Canadians are unable to imagine their country at war.
My experiences with these issues of varying magnitude led me to realize where my future lay. I am perfect for international business. I love money. With the help of a financial advisor, I had invested in mutual funds when I was ten and nearly quadrupled my investment by the time I was fourteen. My diplomacy talents became evident as I overcome language barriers and talked politics with the best of international citizens. And to top these off, I have a vast knowledge of the Canadian language, as I know the proper use of "eh", thus making me bilingual. I do not, however, have a college degree.
(636 words)