Can you please read my college essay and tell me what you think?
Here it is:
"Objection Your Honor! The defense council is leading my client"
"I'm going to overrule that objection."
"Thank You Your Honor"
As I sat in front of a real judge, in a live courtroom at Queens Criminal Court, sweat
poured down the side of my face. I hoped that my witness was able to continue as she faced a barrage of the defense attorney's questions. Having my last objection overruled accelerated my anxiety to an extent where I was almost certain that I was going to lose my case.
"Does the prosecution have a closing argument?" the judge asked.
"Yes, Your Honor". I answered.
As I stood in front of the podium with my papers, the palms of my hands perspired and trembled with excessive fear, aware that these very last words was my only and final chance to get the verdict and win the competition.
"After reviewing the evidence, I found the defendant to be guilty and sustaining all charges", said the judge, concluding the trial. Overwhelmed with excitement and bliss, I shook my opponent's hand-proud of myself because of the victory, but more importantly, because I realized that I had a voice-a voice that was heard by a judge and accepted because of its strength and persuasiveness.
Until I joined the Long Island City High school Mock Trial team, I never could have imagined myself in a courtroom unless I was an average person watching in the back. I joined the team during my junior year of high school. After three months of practice, each team competes against another school's team. As a member of this group, I became more than just an observer in a courtroom; I was one of three prosecution attorneys.
Every Tuesday during mid- November through March, the team met at a law firm in lower Manhattan. We spent approximately three to four hours editing our work. Those days were the most chaotic days of the year. When I arrived home later than usual, my parents grew worried and concerned. Initially, they supported and gave me the opportunity to join the team, despite secretly hoping that I would quit. They were afraid that it would interfere with my academics and of what people thought when they heard that my grades abated. My parents kept reminding me to maintain my high GPA and to devote more time to my school work. Frankly, I never allowed anything to hinder my academic success, the constituent that determine whether I graduate from high school or not. However, I constantly found myself defending my interest in the team as well as the experience that I gained. Most of the people that I know developed a negative image of the team, and I find it difficult, if not, impossible to rectify.
Each time I performed, whether it was in court or in my classroom, a feeling of authority saturated my mind. Teachers, principles, and students awaited the verdict as they watched me during the trial. Although the defense councils deprecated my opinions, my confidence level was stationed, helping me play the game by its rules.
Plainly, I became so attached to the case and the team itself-as though we were a family. I lived the role of the lawyer in and out of the courtroom: at home, at the dinner table, in the mirror, and in my sleep.
This experience has helped me become a more open-minded individual. I express my opinions without reservation and am open to any new ideas and viewpoints. I learned to accept what others think of me. However, I do not intend to desist what I find pleasure in doing because of its misconceptions. Although I did not necessarily win the championship that year, I won what has a greater meaning. I won knowledge, knowledge of how an actual trial processes, courtroom etiquette, and most importantly, a loud, persuasive, confident, and assertive voice that states its opinion when necessary. With one year remaining in high school, I seek to convince my friends and family of the way the experience has impacted my life.
Here it is:
"Objection Your Honor! The defense council is leading my client"
"I'm going to overrule that objection."
"Thank You Your Honor"
As I sat in front of a real judge, in a live courtroom at Queens Criminal Court, sweat
poured down the side of my face. I hoped that my witness was able to continue as she faced a barrage of the defense attorney's questions. Having my last objection overruled accelerated my anxiety to an extent where I was almost certain that I was going to lose my case.
"Does the prosecution have a closing argument?" the judge asked.
"Yes, Your Honor". I answered.
As I stood in front of the podium with my papers, the palms of my hands perspired and trembled with excessive fear, aware that these very last words was my only and final chance to get the verdict and win the competition.
"After reviewing the evidence, I found the defendant to be guilty and sustaining all charges", said the judge, concluding the trial. Overwhelmed with excitement and bliss, I shook my opponent's hand-proud of myself because of the victory, but more importantly, because I realized that I had a voice-a voice that was heard by a judge and accepted because of its strength and persuasiveness.
Until I joined the Long Island City High school Mock Trial team, I never could have imagined myself in a courtroom unless I was an average person watching in the back. I joined the team during my junior year of high school. After three months of practice, each team competes against another school's team. As a member of this group, I became more than just an observer in a courtroom; I was one of three prosecution attorneys.
Every Tuesday during mid- November through March, the team met at a law firm in lower Manhattan. We spent approximately three to four hours editing our work. Those days were the most chaotic days of the year. When I arrived home later than usual, my parents grew worried and concerned. Initially, they supported and gave me the opportunity to join the team, despite secretly hoping that I would quit. They were afraid that it would interfere with my academics and of what people thought when they heard that my grades abated. My parents kept reminding me to maintain my high GPA and to devote more time to my school work. Frankly, I never allowed anything to hinder my academic success, the constituent that determine whether I graduate from high school or not. However, I constantly found myself defending my interest in the team as well as the experience that I gained. Most of the people that I know developed a negative image of the team, and I find it difficult, if not, impossible to rectify.
Each time I performed, whether it was in court or in my classroom, a feeling of authority saturated my mind. Teachers, principles, and students awaited the verdict as they watched me during the trial. Although the defense councils deprecated my opinions, my confidence level was stationed, helping me play the game by its rules.
Plainly, I became so attached to the case and the team itself-as though we were a family. I lived the role of the lawyer in and out of the courtroom: at home, at the dinner table, in the mirror, and in my sleep.
This experience has helped me become a more open-minded individual. I express my opinions without reservation and am open to any new ideas and viewpoints. I learned to accept what others think of me. However, I do not intend to desist what I find pleasure in doing because of its misconceptions. Although I did not necessarily win the championship that year, I won what has a greater meaning. I won knowledge, knowledge of how an actual trial processes, courtroom etiquette, and most importantly, a loud, persuasive, confident, and assertive voice that states its opinion when necessary. With one year remaining in high school, I seek to convince my friends and family of the way the experience has impacted my life.
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