College Admissions Essay: Growing Up, Reading And Writing

I remember waking up that day and that feeling in my stomach, knowing what was about to happen. Growing up I knew about my father's sickness. My family, I recall, was always supportive. No one ever thinks about how one day, everyone you’re around for years, can just vanish. I cherished my friends as I was growing up. I lived there for a majority of my life, up until fourth grade. I remember sitting at a neighbor's house and having the mother come into the room and inform me that I need to be home swiftly. As I ran home, my head was crowded with thoughts to the point where I could not even think about why I was supposed to be home quickly. That day marked the transition of what would be the biggest change in my life. As by dad became sicker,

I’d always enjoyed writing but I’d never been so vocal about it. For me, it happened quietly. My notebooks lie scattered over my bedroom floor; they had no place at the lunch table. And my writing survived on my acknowledgments alone, I couldn’t even imagine letting some else read it. This was due in part to my own self-doubt: I was embarrassed of my poems that never rhymed and my short action stories that never seemed to have any plot. But I

Being a first generation student requires more will power than I ever thought I owned. In middle school I was denied by my parents the chance to shadow a pharmacist because they saw this as an unattainable dream. It wasn’t until I began working with disabled children and tried to pursue a nursing degree, that I found the courage and determination to pursue all of my dreams in spite of my upbringing.

As a young child I always prided myself in my writing. I attended the Young Authors Conference every year during elementary school. The Young Authors Conference allowed us to write and share books that

We all have dreams. My mother always dreamed of being a teacher; however, life took her for another turn and her dreams were not fulfilled. She became a stay at home mom instead. She used me to achieve her dreams of being a teacher; therefore, I became her student. From the age of three, she began to teach me the basics of reading and writing. By the time I started kindergarten, I was very advanced in reading for my age. My first day of school, I was appalled when my classmates could not read simple words. Did their mothers not teach them to read like mine had? This was the start to my reading and writing journey. My writing history has had a significant influence on my current writing strengths, weaknesses, and style.

The first thing I can remember about my writing was in 8th grade my English teacher inspired me to write. Not only about short stories but about my life if I didn't want to talk about my problems. I remember it so well, I was having a hard time with school and family issues were happening. My grades reflected that writing helped me a lot. I realized what I had to do, writing changed everything opened up more I felt better as a person my writing opened my eyes in a way. I did my work and efficiently. I don't like to read nearly as much as I like to write. I used to write a lot more about things I thought I was pretty good at writing short stories but then I just stopped

Before I even knew how to read, my mother would often lecture me about the importance of writing. She would incessantly tell me about the power of writing. To further prove her claims about the significance of writing, she would say things such as “An entire person’s life can be change by a single phrase” or “Being able to write makes you different from the average person.” At first, I was honestly not interested in what she was telling me, but today, especially as I am at the doorstep of college, I fully understand why she emphasized the value of good writing to me. My mother is the reason why I have become a good writer.

When I was in the first grade there was a state mandated test that all first graders took to determine what skill level we were at with our reading and writing. I was really excited about this test because, I loved reading and writing so I felt I was good at it. However after the test results came back I was put in a reading and writing recovery program. For obvious reasons I was extremely disappointed, and determined to get back into my regular class. As the year progressed I became increasingly better with reading and writing, by the end of that year I was 2 grade levels above what I was supposed to be at. I even had my “Young Authors” book put into to finals, I got to go to a seminar at MSSU about writing. I like to look back on that memory because it reminds me that I can do anything I put my mind to no matter where I start. As years go by my passion for reading and writing keeps growing. My 8th grade year, however, was probably my worst year yet. I really struggled with motivation to do my work, to go anywhere, to see anyone, I really just wanted to stay in my room by myself all the time. Then I kind of rediscovered my love for reading and, would read all the time, it even got to the point where I would read multiple books a week. In reading I was able to find a whole new life, I was able to become the character and put myself in the story, I had their feelings, I experienced the things they experienced, I had their personalities, I was the story. Being able to read, I

I wrote my first short story when I was eight-years-old. It evolved into a complex story as the years went by, and that story will someday be a children’s book. I will admit, though, that I did not always want to major in English. In second grade, my weeks consisted of wrapping my dog’s “broken” legs in toilet paper and researching diseases and cures. Other weeks included writing short stories and attempting to teach my dogs how to read. When literature became a higher priority, my desire to become a physician faded into a desire to become a writer.

Having to know that there is a school that can help young adults to stay in school is satisfying. Nowadays, many young students give up on the dream on going to college; which is sad to hear. However, Early College High Schools benefits students to stay in school, and graduate with not just a high school diploma, but an Associate’s Degree. In addition, students who are involved in early college high schools will have a greater opportunity to get a job, and receive financial help from the school; while being in school.

A responsibility outside of school that has helped me grow as a student, would be being the first child. Being the eldest alone brought me multiple responsibilities that helped build, shape, and develop my character. But being the eldest child of an immigrant family, however added to those preexisting responsibilities, of not only being an example for younger siblings, but by also being helpful to my parents. Having those responsibilities, however would play out to be useful both in life, and in academics later down the road.

Growing up in the same home as my grandmother who was a writer herself came with a lot of storytelling and pressure to pursue writing as well. My grandmother wasn’t necessarily a published writer, instead she wrote her stories and passages for friends and loved ones. She always dreamed of being able to share her stories with the whole world, but never got the opportunity to do so because she always had to take care and provide for her family. Growing

When I was four, I started reading. Family folklore is that I read a murder story over my mom’s shoulder at the breakfast table and shocked her and my dad. My mom didn’t read the paper with me sitting next to her after that. Because I was praised for being able to read so young, I saw myself as “smart”; I’d found the one thing that seemed to please my mom. I also found that I loved reading, so it was a win-win for me. Before Kindergarten, I would write stories with my mom. She would write the words down for me, and I would illustrate them. From then on, I used everything I could get my hands on to express myself. I paint, draw, write stories, crochet, sew clothes and purses, quilt, do needlepoint, knit, write letters to anyone who is willing to fork over their address, blog, make pottery, and sing (very poorly). I’ve always seen myself as a creative person, mostly because my mother pushed me to express myself in creative ways. I always saw writing as one way to express my inner self.

Writing has always played a huge role in my life. I’ve been reading writing for as long as I can remember as I have an immense love of reading. This love would grow into a love for writing as well; I still stumble upon journals and writings from my five-year-old self about the happenings in my kindergarten class. As time would go on I would discover academic writing, and how to convey my thoughts on what was the topic of student that particular year or semester in my schooling. Later, writing would become a constant for me, and a comfort; I was known to my friends as always having a journal, and a pen on my person. I learned to write down my feelings and my thoughts, song lyrics that were in my head, reflections for the day. I learned how

Up until high school, I never really knew what I wanted to pursue in. There were so many options and although I did have some idea before entering the 9th grade, I was still waiting to find a subject that I truly enjoyed. During my freshmen year, I finally found that subject – biology.