Monday, August 3, 2020
Sample Personal Statement Essay For College Applications
Sample Personal Statement Essay For College Applications Smiling, I open Jonâs Jansport backpack and neatly place this essay inside and a chocolate taffy with a note attached. After he leaves, I take out my notebook and begin writing where I left off. â my grandmother used to nag, pointing at me with a carrot stick. He would scoff at me when he would beat me in basketball, and when he brought home his painting of Bambi with the teacherâs sticker âAwesome! â on top, he would make several copies of it and showcase them on the refrigerator door. My room was on the first floor, right in front of Shellieâs hair salon, a small business that she ran out of her home. We made pizza together, watched Shrek on their cozy couch together, and went fishing on Sunday together. On rainy days, Michael, Jen and I would sit on the porch and listen to the rain, talking about our dreams and thoughts. This essay could work for promptâs 1, 2, 5 and 7 for the Common App. To find out if your essay passes the Great College Essay Test like this one did, go here. For analysis of what makes this essay amazing, go here. She brought out the old silver bowl and poured out the cabbages, smothering them with garlic and salt and pepper. Gingerly, my grandma stood up from the couch in the living room, and as if lured by the smell, sat by the silver bowl and dug her hands into the spiced cabbages. As her bony hands shredded the green lips, a look of determination grew on her face. Though her withered hands no longer displayed the swiftness and precision they once did, her face showed the aged rigor of a professional. For the first time in years, the smell of garlic filled the air and the rattling of the silver bowl resonated throughout the house. My second family was the Martinez family, who were friends of the Watkinsâs. The host dad Michael was a high school English teacher and the host mom Jennifer (who had me call her âJenâ) taught elementary school. She had recently delivered a baby, so she was still in the hospital when I moved into their house. The Martinez family did almost everything together. But I retreated to my desk where a pile of âPlease draw this again and bring it to me tomorrowâ papers lay, desperate for immediate treatment. Later, I even refused to attend the same elementary school and wouldnât even eat meals with him. This essay could work for promptâs 1, 2 and 7 for the Common App. When he reveals each lesson at the end, one after the other, we sense how all these seemingly random events are connected. We realize this writer has been carefully constructing this piece all along; we see the underlying structure. Of course, those 28 months were too short to fully understand all five families, but I learned from and was shaped by each of them. I donât remember a single time that they argued about the games. Afterward, we would gather in the living room and Danielle would play the piano while the rest of us sang hymns. The host mom Shellie was a single mom who had two of her own sons and two Russian daughters that she had adopted. The kids always had something warm to eat, and were always on their best behavior at home and in school. I had been typing an English essay when I heard my cat's loud meows and the flutter of wings. I had turned slightly at the noise and had found the barely breathing bird in front of me. But the best dimension that language brought to my life is interpersonal connection. When I speak with people in their native language, I find I can connect with them on a more intimate level. One day, my mom brought home fresh cabbages and red pepper sauce. The world I come from consists of underwear, nuclear bombs, and punk rockers. My world is inherently complex, mysterious, and anti-nihilist. I am David Phan, somebody who spends his weekends debating in a three piece suit, other days immersed within the punk rock culture, and some days writing opinionated blogs about underwear. 3) When I realized I was a punk rocker philosopher. One summer night, my friend took me to an underground hardcore punk rock show. It would be fair to say that this was all due to Shellieâs upbringing. My room was on the first floor,right in front of Shellieâs hair salon, a small business that she ran out of her home. In the living room were six or seven huge amplifiers and a gigantic chandelier hung from the high ceiling. At first, the non-stop visits from strangers made me nervous, but soon I got used to them. I remember one night, a couple barged into my room while I was sleeping.
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