can someone edit my essay?
the prompt is: Write an essay in which you tell us about someone who has made an impact on your life and explain how and why this person is important to you.
My essay:
Sometimes we come across a person who changes our whole perspective of life for the better. I came across this person at an early age. She became the person who taught me my prayers before I went to sleep, who let me sleep late on those nights when my parents where out working late, and who demonstrated how something as simple as a pile of pillows had the potential to transform into a majestic castle.
I remember this one instance where I literally forced her to teach me how to knit. I had seen her knitting wool sweaters, moving two needles a hundred miles per hour and magically swaying and bending her long fingers in a fascinating manner. With desperate pleads, I asked her to teach me until she finally gave in. A never-ending battle between those two yarn needles and me went on for hours, but she stayed with me and helped me push through even in my moments of frustrating self-doubt. Thread to thread, she remained by my side just like she would for many years to come.
As a shy, awkward child, starving for recognition and love, I struggled to survive in the vicious world of elementary school. In third grade, I surpassed everyone in my bilingual class the school counselor convinced my parents to move me up into the Gifted and Talented program. This signified the end of my days where Spanish and English intermingled. The counselor moved me to a class where people only spoke English; I was the only Hispanic girl there. Worst of all, I came to find out that these kids in my new class had known each other since they where in diapers, and most of them even lived in the same neighborhood. I felt extremely out of place. I felt ignored. I felt alone. Even at home, my parents were too busy working all hours of the day to listen to what they thought where insignificant dilemmas.
Fortunately, my "Tia Rosa", or Aunt Rose came to my rescue. Only in her early twenties, she immigrated to the United States. Her life in Mexico was that of poverty and as a woman without an education, she found no hope to improve her status. She gathered the courage to come to the U.S, a land over hundreds of miles away from her home, and decided to stay with us. She hoped to better her life and her family's back in Mexico.
After she came, life became much easier for me. When frustration overwhelmed me, she sat next to me and told me to not give up. She even helped me with my schoolwork, which grew more difficult each passing day. Even though she didn't know how to speak English, she allowed me to read to her for my daily reading assignment. She helped me study my multiplication tables and vocabulary words by holding up study cards and quizzing me every night. Most importantly, she listened to me when I needed someone to talk to. Without me telling her, she simply just knew when sorrow overwhelmed my heart or when anger settled in the very pit of my stomach. She would sit next to me in my room and made my problems disappear. With her, I never worried about fitting in or trying to impress others. With her, I danced and twirled to Selena's Cumbia beats that blared out of my dad's black Sony stereo almost every day. With her, I had the best of times plastering Aunt Jemima's Pancake mix all over the stove and pouring different shapes of it into my mom's black clay griddle.
When Tia Rosa went back to Mexico, I realized I had lost a person who gave me the treasures of love and friendship, both so precious and so hard to find. I remember her writing me letters for the first year or so after her retreat. She told me of my family in Mexico, and I told her of the new friends I had made in school or the new book I had just read. Eventually, she had her own family, her own kids, and her own responsibilities. Distance and time slowly drifted us apart. Nevertheless, I still cherish those letters, but more than anything I cherish all she gave me. The confidence I felt when she pushed me forward with her reassuring words, the way she understood me as though she herself had the mind of a young girl, the drive she allowed me to develop by accepting me and tolerating me even in my worst moments, all of this and much more, I will always carry in my heart.
the prompt is: Write an essay in which you tell us about someone who has made an impact on your life and explain how and why this person is important to you.
My essay:
Sometimes we come across a person who changes our whole perspective of life for the better. I came across this person at an early age. She became the person who taught me my prayers before I went to sleep, who let me sleep late on those nights when my parents where out working late, and who demonstrated how something as simple as a pile of pillows had the potential to transform into a majestic castle.
I remember this one instance where I literally forced her to teach me how to knit. I had seen her knitting wool sweaters, moving two needles a hundred miles per hour and magically swaying and bending her long fingers in a fascinating manner. With desperate pleads, I asked her to teach me until she finally gave in. A never-ending battle between those two yarn needles and me went on for hours, but she stayed with me and helped me push through even in my moments of frustrating self-doubt. Thread to thread, she remained by my side just like she would for many years to come.
As a shy, awkward child, starving for recognition and love, I struggled to survive in the vicious world of elementary school. In third grade, I surpassed everyone in my bilingual class the school counselor convinced my parents to move me up into the Gifted and Talented program. This signified the end of my days where Spanish and English intermingled. The counselor moved me to a class where people only spoke English; I was the only Hispanic girl there. Worst of all, I came to find out that these kids in my new class had known each other since they where in diapers, and most of them even lived in the same neighborhood. I felt extremely out of place. I felt ignored. I felt alone. Even at home, my parents were too busy working all hours of the day to listen to what they thought where insignificant dilemmas.
Fortunately, my "Tia Rosa", or Aunt Rose came to my rescue. Only in her early twenties, she immigrated to the United States. Her life in Mexico was that of poverty and as a woman without an education, she found no hope to improve her status. She gathered the courage to come to the U.S, a land over hundreds of miles away from her home, and decided to stay with us. She hoped to better her life and her family's back in Mexico.
After she came, life became much easier for me. When frustration overwhelmed me, she sat next to me and told me to not give up. She even helped me with my schoolwork, which grew more difficult each passing day. Even though she didn't know how to speak English, she allowed me to read to her for my daily reading assignment. She helped me study my multiplication tables and vocabulary words by holding up study cards and quizzing me every night. Most importantly, she listened to me when I needed someone to talk to. Without me telling her, she simply just knew when sorrow overwhelmed my heart or when anger settled in the very pit of my stomach. She would sit next to me in my room and made my problems disappear. With her, I never worried about fitting in or trying to impress others. With her, I danced and twirled to Selena's Cumbia beats that blared out of my dad's black Sony stereo almost every day. With her, I had the best of times plastering Aunt Jemima's Pancake mix all over the stove and pouring different shapes of it into my mom's black clay griddle.
When Tia Rosa went back to Mexico, I realized I had lost a person who gave me the treasures of love and friendship, both so precious and so hard to find. I remember her writing me letters for the first year or so after her retreat. She told me of my family in Mexico, and I told her of the new friends I had made in school or the new book I had just read. Eventually, she had her own family, her own kids, and her own responsibilities. Distance and time slowly drifted us apart. Nevertheless, I still cherish those letters, but more than anything I cherish all she gave me. The confidence I felt when she pushed me forward with her reassuring words, the way she understood me as though she herself had the mind of a young girl, the drive she allowed me to develop by accepting me and tolerating me even in my worst moments, all of this and much more, I will always carry in my heart.