I would love comments about my Common App Essay- I'm worried it's too long (it's at 767 words at the moment)Any commentary would be much appreciated.
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
"And the snitch is loose!"
Then came the waiting. The mid-November heat beating down on my back as to the side of me, I see the twitch of a foot and hear someone's uniform rustle from fidgeting. The crowd is silent. Staring down at my shoes, I tighten my grip on the broom between my legs. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins to the point that I was shaking. The tension was almost unbearable tension, building until-
"BROOMS UP!"
And in an instant, thirteen players and myself sprung into action, towards the balls that held our destiny.
Two months before when I confronted my mom about trying out for a team, she was less than enthused-one step shy of rolling her eyes at the thought and leaving me with little more than a "As long as it doesn't bring down your grades" I didn't think she would respond in any other way, even if it were something more legitimate than wanting to play the fictional game from the Harry Potter series. I was never the athletic type, pushed by my parents towards the academic and told that it wasn't something girls did. As I grew older, I thought I was too old to start competing with people whom had been a part of the sport since the age of four, it was over for me before I could even start. But when I was forwarded an email about a Quidditch World Cup happening, it was like another opportunity just opened itself up to me. A relatively new sport and a completely new team with people of all ages was just the thing to get me into being more active. And it was quidditch! How hard could it be?
The first day shocked me out of that illusion before it had time to settle in. A couple minutes late, I arrived only to have my broom grabbed from me by a man a good head taller then me and screamed 'coach'.
"You're late, go catch up with everyone else." he pointed me down a path, and I followed, not knowing it was a one mile warm up run. Coming back hot and sweaty, we began the first day of quidditch tryouts. Passing, shooting and basic maneuvering mixed with soccer drills and a half hour of relentless conditioning left us barely conscious at the end of the day and me barely able to keep up with everyone else. The odds were stacked against me. It seemed like everyone was ahead of me by leaps and bounds, even the people much older than me were able to keep up better than I did, but I couldn't quit quidditch of all things! So I returned. And again and again, I returned, Even when I thought I couldn't continue-I was too gangly, too slow, too uncoordinated-I remained motivated, knowing the joy when drill work and conditioning gave way to the game we came to know and love. And through the hard work, the self doubt waned every day I impressed myself in surpassing any preconceived notions I had of my abilities.
In those two months of training through sickness, school, and interpersonal issues, I got to know the most interesting and caring people I had ever met. A substitute teacher, a musician, a waitress, a Sociology major at Barnard; from the moment we stepped onto the field together, we stopped being just a team or a ragtag bunch of nerds, and became a family. I discovered an appreciation for sports, not fully realized until I was put out on the field myself. I also came to expect more of myself, began to feel more comfortable with pushing my limits. There was never an excuse for not trying your absolute best because I knew everyone else was doing the same. We improved as a team, but day after day I tried and succeeded in outdoing myself.
In the huddle before the game, our couch called out the starting line-up, myself serving as keeper. Though I knew it was going to happen, I swelled with pride. "Okay" he said turning to the people who would be playing in that game. "We've only been around for two months, but that is no reason for anyone to underestimate us. I picked you all because you are the hardest hitting and roughest out here." Everyone grinned, as prideful as ever. "I know these guys are from Canada, they have socialized health care, I want them to need it by the end of the game. I want everybody out there screaming our names. You got that?" We nodded and piled our hands on each others'. "One, two three-"
"Badassilisks!" And we took to the skies.
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
"And the snitch is loose!"
Then came the waiting. The mid-November heat beating down on my back as to the side of me, I see the twitch of a foot and hear someone's uniform rustle from fidgeting. The crowd is silent. Staring down at my shoes, I tighten my grip on the broom between my legs. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins to the point that I was shaking. The tension was almost unbearable tension, building until-
"BROOMS UP!"
And in an instant, thirteen players and myself sprung into action, towards the balls that held our destiny.
Two months before when I confronted my mom about trying out for a team, she was less than enthused-one step shy of rolling her eyes at the thought and leaving me with little more than a "As long as it doesn't bring down your grades" I didn't think she would respond in any other way, even if it were something more legitimate than wanting to play the fictional game from the Harry Potter series. I was never the athletic type, pushed by my parents towards the academic and told that it wasn't something girls did. As I grew older, I thought I was too old to start competing with people whom had been a part of the sport since the age of four, it was over for me before I could even start. But when I was forwarded an email about a Quidditch World Cup happening, it was like another opportunity just opened itself up to me. A relatively new sport and a completely new team with people of all ages was just the thing to get me into being more active. And it was quidditch! How hard could it be?
The first day shocked me out of that illusion before it had time to settle in. A couple minutes late, I arrived only to have my broom grabbed from me by a man a good head taller then me and screamed 'coach'.
"You're late, go catch up with everyone else." he pointed me down a path, and I followed, not knowing it was a one mile warm up run. Coming back hot and sweaty, we began the first day of quidditch tryouts. Passing, shooting and basic maneuvering mixed with soccer drills and a half hour of relentless conditioning left us barely conscious at the end of the day and me barely able to keep up with everyone else. The odds were stacked against me. It seemed like everyone was ahead of me by leaps and bounds, even the people much older than me were able to keep up better than I did, but I couldn't quit quidditch of all things! So I returned. And again and again, I returned, Even when I thought I couldn't continue-I was too gangly, too slow, too uncoordinated-I remained motivated, knowing the joy when drill work and conditioning gave way to the game we came to know and love. And through the hard work, the self doubt waned every day I impressed myself in surpassing any preconceived notions I had of my abilities.
In those two months of training through sickness, school, and interpersonal issues, I got to know the most interesting and caring people I had ever met. A substitute teacher, a musician, a waitress, a Sociology major at Barnard; from the moment we stepped onto the field together, we stopped being just a team or a ragtag bunch of nerds, and became a family. I discovered an appreciation for sports, not fully realized until I was put out on the field myself. I also came to expect more of myself, began to feel more comfortable with pushing my limits. There was never an excuse for not trying your absolute best because I knew everyone else was doing the same. We improved as a team, but day after day I tried and succeeded in outdoing myself.
In the huddle before the game, our couch called out the starting line-up, myself serving as keeper. Though I knew it was going to happen, I swelled with pride. "Okay" he said turning to the people who would be playing in that game. "We've only been around for two months, but that is no reason for anyone to underestimate us. I picked you all because you are the hardest hitting and roughest out here." Everyone grinned, as prideful as ever. "I know these guys are from Canada, they have socialized health care, I want them to need it by the end of the game. I want everybody out there screaming our names. You got that?" We nodded and piled our hands on each others'. "One, two three-"
"Badassilisks!" And we took to the skies.