Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud and how does it relate to the person you are?
Is it ok to write about failures and changes?
Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you . What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud and how does it relate to the person you are ?
If you are writing about and event that you considered a failure, but taught you an important life lesson/ changed you for the better, then yes
just make sure it makes you stand out for the better
if you simply write about faliures you probobly won't make the type of impression you would like to.
However, a person that can overcome and learn from thaugh situations shows a very amiable quailty
hope this helps :)
good luck!
UC PROMPT2
can anyone critque this essay...I just finished...
thx so much !!!! I really want to go to UC.so..it's really important.
and maybe suggestions for curtailing some words...
Listen to Silence
It happened during my volunteering in City Care Center for Mentally Disabled.
Wilson pointed to the book far right, murmuring some words that I spent ten minutes but still couldn't make up. "What exactly do you want?" I knew it was wrong, but the idea that his wasting my time seemed to be a kid's wicked scheme wore away all my patience. I left and slammed the door. I missed my dinner, again.
As an autistic child, he seldom moved half an inch from the chair. The whole impression he left on me was his non-stop fiddling the hair, finger nail and shorts. But since any one would still need something, my supervisor assigned me the work to fulfill his want any time he looked as he wanted. More often than not, the only way I dug through his incomprehensible universe of thought was collecting every syllable he spoke, recording it on my mind and trying to combine into words. To be honest, all my life, Wilson gave the hardest jig puzzle I'd ever met. It's IMPOSSIBLE. Scientifically speaking, his mind jumped each time he talked, from somewhere I didn't know to somewhere else I would never know. Considering the chaos of his brain, I quitted many times and failed many times. Once he meant his poncho, but I handed him a pen.
Yet, I could hardly imagine this boy had tended to his tuberculosis-stricken father for three years. How did he talk to his father with mumbling words? What was he supposed to do in emergency by his extremely limited conversation ability?
Through my discovery, I found that I was not the only case of having difficulty in communication with those taciturn kids. Nearly all the teachers in center had been bogged by the silence. After a weeks struggle, I saw a path for understanding begin to take shape. Silence was not vacuum, nor was it meaningless. To pry the shell of silence, I needed my heart to listen to it. Think about what Little Wilson thought. Stand at his angle and watch everything worked around.
There was a minutia of him I noticed every time he listened to pop songs. He raised eye brows, and his head turned around to detect the source of sound. At first, I translated the reaction into annoyance of noise; but looking at him, I realized the boy had lost so many chances to unleash his emotion, in almost all possible ways that in any sense he had to create one for himself. If I were him, music would be my vicarious speaker. In order to prove my conjecture, I brought my CDs and played them to Wilson. He became different, I could tell. In music, while fiddling was reduced, he concentrated on the jackets. Looking at artists, he seemed to pick the one he liked the most. But I knew silence for him was multi-layered, once his love for music became clear for me, I decided to walk farther into his deeper mind. Did he want to truly express himself by "fiddling" music?
It's tough work for me to get the permission to bring Wilson to my house. To and fro, I walked to the general office for untold times to settle the deal. Adults couldn't be more assured about the safety of Wilson and my dear piano than they could about the health of those kids. Finally, I urged my parents to call the supervisor to clarify my intent and their expectation for Wilson. Wilson did come to my house, with an ineffable face that seemed to expressed nothing. I looked at him, on the way home, more than thrice: maybe he never loved music. Still, I took him to the piano and made him sit down. For him I had practiced several pop songs, and then I played those songs. Minutes passed, again we sank in horrible silence. It was not until the moment he should leave my house that he began to touch the keyboard. And it was then I finally understood that he indeed liked music because when he heard the echoes, he smiled, for the first time.
I knew it would take years or even decades to dissolve the silence he held around him. Still I made a beautiful start, by my heart. Wilson is now a past for me; however, who is not Wilson?-
building a wall emanating aura of "silence" and waiting for others to understand his or her heart- we are all Wilson, and therefore I foresee my future: I use my heart to listen to silence of everyone I will meet- to think as they think.
Wilson pointed to the book far right---I don't understand what you mean here.
... murmuring some words that I spent ten minutes but still couldn't make up out.
I left and slammed the door. I missed my dinner, again. I don't think you should write that you lost your patience with the autistic kid! :-) Just leave that part out.
...the hardest jigsaw puzzle I'd ever met. It's IMPOSSIBLE. Scientifically speaking, Do not write this, because you are not scientifically speaking... you are metaphorically speaking when you say: his mind jumped each time he talked, from somewhere I didn't know to somewhere else I would never know. Considering the chaos of his brain, I quitted struggles many times and failed many times.
Wilson is now a past experience for me; however, who is not Wilson?-
building a wall, emanating an aura of "silence" and waiting for others to understand his ...
Nice! Yes, we are all Wilson...
