Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
So I'm not really sure if I'm addressing the prompt completely. Should I focus more on the specific event, haircut? Or do I address it enough?
I wait silently in the chair, nervously rubbing my palms together. My heart beat begins to rise, with each one seemingly packing a harder punch than the previous one. It's almost as if I'm in second grade again, waiting in the doctors office, with thoughts of painful needles circling around in my mind. But no. I'm sixteen years old and at the hair salon. Pretty much the last place you'd expect to me nervous.
The hair stylist comes over, introducing herself as Michelle as she snaps a curious looking plastic piece onto her hair clippers. A number four guard she explains. I still wasn't sure what that meant, but it was too late now. I could already feel the weight coming off my head, but my mind was still circling with the same questions. You sure about this? Do you know what you're doing?
The buzzing approached the right side of my face. I took a quick glance at the mirror in front of me, catching an unfamiliar sight. My right ear finally popped out, drawing its first breath of fresh air in years. A couple minutes later and I could see my forehead. And then my other ear. Looking around me, I saw piles of my long, black strands that had stood so faithfully on my head. Taking a final look in the mirror, I quietly laughed to myself. No one was going to recognize me.
Since I began to grow out my hair back in 5th grade, it remained unchanged for years, becoming a static landmark on top of my head. Long bangs and sideburns swept to the right became deeply rooted into my identity. Even though the thick layers of hair and the triple digit temperatures of Texas proved to be a rather uncomfortable combination, I felt apprehensive about adopting a new cut. Too afraid to try something new, I never thought I would branch out from my long standing hair style until a summer I spent in Iowa City.
Attending a student research program at the University of Iowa, I found myself suddenly placed in an environment of nearly complete freedom. I experienced, for the first time, the opportunity to control every aspect of my own daily life. Like any teenager, I relished this incredibly rare escape from my parents' supervision. Dirty clothes littered my dorm room floor and glasses of coke became an essential part of the breakfast table. Despite my rocky start, I soon developed a greater sense of responsibility, quickly learning that dropping thirty dollars a week on frozen yogurt wasn't the wisest use of my money.
The feeling of complete independence I had there excited me. Perhaps that was what prompted me to walk through the doors the salon that afternoon, to give me the courage to change one of my most defining characteristics. I felt a certain pride in getting that haircut, having made the decision without any guidance. I felt it was the first "important" decision that I could completely claim as "mine". No one had suggested it. No one had convinced me to try it. The choice to get a buzz cut had come all from me.
I always thought it was funny that I had to be removed from my comfort zone for me to become comfortable with such a big change when one would expect that surrounding myself with the support of my parents and friends would encourage me to try new things. However, I felt a strange sense of adventure by being disconnected from home. Being thrown into a completely new environment on my own gave me my first experience in exercising total independence. Taking up such a responsibility made me a much more embracing of my personal growth and transformation. I know in a year I will be thrown into another unfamiliar environment going into college, yet I don't have that same feeling of apprehension that I once felt. Instead I now look forward to college as a chance to once again explore who I will eventually become.
So I'm not really sure if I'm addressing the prompt completely. Should I focus more on the specific event, haircut? Or do I address it enough?
I wait silently in the chair, nervously rubbing my palms together. My heart beat begins to rise, with each one seemingly packing a harder punch than the previous one. It's almost as if I'm in second grade again, waiting in the doctors office, with thoughts of painful needles circling around in my mind. But no. I'm sixteen years old and at the hair salon. Pretty much the last place you'd expect to me nervous.
The hair stylist comes over, introducing herself as Michelle as she snaps a curious looking plastic piece onto her hair clippers. A number four guard she explains. I still wasn't sure what that meant, but it was too late now. I could already feel the weight coming off my head, but my mind was still circling with the same questions. You sure about this? Do you know what you're doing?
The buzzing approached the right side of my face. I took a quick glance at the mirror in front of me, catching an unfamiliar sight. My right ear finally popped out, drawing its first breath of fresh air in years. A couple minutes later and I could see my forehead. And then my other ear. Looking around me, I saw piles of my long, black strands that had stood so faithfully on my head. Taking a final look in the mirror, I quietly laughed to myself. No one was going to recognize me.
Since I began to grow out my hair back in 5th grade, it remained unchanged for years, becoming a static landmark on top of my head. Long bangs and sideburns swept to the right became deeply rooted into my identity. Even though the thick layers of hair and the triple digit temperatures of Texas proved to be a rather uncomfortable combination, I felt apprehensive about adopting a new cut. Too afraid to try something new, I never thought I would branch out from my long standing hair style until a summer I spent in Iowa City.
Attending a student research program at the University of Iowa, I found myself suddenly placed in an environment of nearly complete freedom. I experienced, for the first time, the opportunity to control every aspect of my own daily life. Like any teenager, I relished this incredibly rare escape from my parents' supervision. Dirty clothes littered my dorm room floor and glasses of coke became an essential part of the breakfast table. Despite my rocky start, I soon developed a greater sense of responsibility, quickly learning that dropping thirty dollars a week on frozen yogurt wasn't the wisest use of my money.
The feeling of complete independence I had there excited me. Perhaps that was what prompted me to walk through the doors the salon that afternoon, to give me the courage to change one of my most defining characteristics. I felt a certain pride in getting that haircut, having made the decision without any guidance. I felt it was the first "important" decision that I could completely claim as "mine". No one had suggested it. No one had convinced me to try it. The choice to get a buzz cut had come all from me.
I always thought it was funny that I had to be removed from my comfort zone for me to become comfortable with such a big change when one would expect that surrounding myself with the support of my parents and friends would encourage me to try new things. However, I felt a strange sense of adventure by being disconnected from home. Being thrown into a completely new environment on my own gave me my first experience in exercising total independence. Taking up such a responsibility made me a much more embracing of my personal growth and transformation. I know in a year I will be thrown into another unfamiliar environment going into college, yet I don't have that same feeling of apprehension that I once felt. Instead I now look forward to college as a chance to once again explore who I will eventually become.