Sample Essay For College Students

Admission Essay & Personal Statement Development Services
On the surface I think I am like most young and modern American women: I take school seriously, I have dreams and goals for the future that I am determined to make happen, and I don't expect anyone to do the hard work for me. I come from what is an increasingly normal background: my parents are divorced and I live with my mom and sisters and only occasionally see my dad since he now lives on the other side of the country, but I still feel very lucky to have a supportive, if spread out, family behind me. What makes me different from the rest of the crowd though is how I choose to fill my time away from school...
Sometimes a task can seem monumental when you try to visualize the entire thing, but if you break it down into smaller goals suddenly it can become manageable. When I first started to consider going to college so that I could make a better life for myself and my daughter, I thought it was going to be almost impossible. I was working in a convenience store trying to make ends meet as a single mother, but I just knew that there was something more out there for me...
My father always used to say to me: “if you want people to respect you, first you must respect yourself”. At this juncture in my life I see going back to school to earn a degree in nursing as a symbol of respecting myself and the goals I have set for myself. I have made sacrifices in my life that are common for many women: putting my husband’s career before my own, and my child’s life and growth before my own as well, and for many years these sacrifices have been worthwhile...
Many people enjoy building things with Legos when they are growing up, but usually not to the exclusion of all other activities. For me though, nothing was more fun that getting a picture in my mind's eye and then being able to manifest it in reality using those ingenious little blocks, or any other substance that lent itself to my uses...
I was born and raised primarily in Medellin, Colombia, which is a land rich in beauty, but sadly for many of the people living there it is also a land of where poverty is a way of life. I am one of the few lucky ones who has never had to suffer the pains of an empty stomach, or had to struggle to make a living off the land with little or no education to back up my choices. However, if called upon to find a people with a better disposition or more welcoming spirits than those same indigenous people I grew up near, one would be very hard pressed...
Sometimes in life it just takes the influence of one person to help you see yourself in a whole new light. For me that person is my high school counselor Mr. Jones. I have been meeting with him twice a month for the past two years and the difference these meetings have made in my outlook in life, my goals for the future, and most importantly my self-confidence, is amazing...
When I first moved to the United States from Jakarta 8 years ago I was upset about leaving all of people I knew and loved behind me to follow my mother and brother here where we could find better "educational opportunities". I resented the fact that my dad, who is a physician, had to stay in Jakarta to keep up his practice to fund this move, and that we would only be able to see him on the odd occasion he could get away long enough for the endless flight to Arizona, this land where we knew no one...
The curtains are swaying slightly before me and I know that they will soon part and a sea of faces will suddenly be before me, staring up with their eyes burning into mine, unseen because of the footlights, but felt nevertheless. My nervous energy is mounting, but this isn’t the first time I have preformed on stage, and hopefully it won’t be the last. I can remember decades ago in high school when I first began dancing in front of an audience...
There are many challenges facing my generation today: our nation is at war, there are people in our own extremely prosperous country who go to bed hungry every night, and this spring, when I will be lucky enough to graduate from one of the best private high schools in the country, there will be other students elsewhere in America who are also graduating even though they can't read their own diploma...
When I think of ____ University, the aspects that most impress me and fan my desire to immerse myself in this prestigious learning environment are _____ University’s excellent resources. In addition to having some of the most recognized and lauded faculty in world, ____ is committed to maintaining a diverse student population. As person of African heritage who grew up in Jamaica, and is now planning to embark on my university studies in the United States, I see this commitment to diversity as an essential element...

Any experience or job in your life can make a great essay! This student wrote about interacting with various characters at her job at a drive-thru window and how that helped form portals to other peoples’ worlds outside of her own.

The drive-thru monitor on the wall quietly clicks whenever a person pulls up to the menu screen. It’s so subtle I didn’t notice it my first two months working at Freddy’s, the retro fast-food restaurant looming over Fairfax’s clogged stretch of Route 50. But, after months of giving out greasy burgers, I have become attuned to it. Now, from the cacophony of kitchen clangs I can easily pick out that click which transports me from my world of fry oil into the lives of those waiting in the drive-thru.

*Click*
A languid male voice drifts into my ear. He orders tenders, with a side of cheese sauce. “How much cheese sauce is in a cup?” he frets, concerned over the associated 80 cent charge. The answer is two ounces, and he is right to worry. It’s a rip-off.
After I answer him, my headset goes quiet for a second. Finally, his voice crackles through.
“Do you sell cheese sauce by the gallon?”
*Click*
A man orders two steakburgers and two pints of custard.
Minutes later, he reaches my window. I lean out to take his credit card, only to meet the warm tongue of a wizened dog.
The man apologizes: “She just loves your restaurant.”
I look at the dog, her nose stretching out of the car and resting on the window ledge, then look at the order he had given me.
Once I hand him his food, the dog sniffs one of the pints.
“No!” he reprimands. “Only after you eat your dinner.”
He sets a burger between her paws, then speeds away.
*Click*
I can’t understand the order, but I know that whoever is speaking is from New Jersey. Tommy, pronounced “Tahmee”, apparently has high blood pressure. He orders fries.
“No!” the woman screeches. “No salt!”
They pull up to the window. The man, clad in a Hawaiian shirt, thrusts a crumpled wad of cash in my hand.
The women pushes him back. “Sorry!” she apologizes, “But we’re lost! Never been to Virginia before - we’re trying to find Lynchburg!”
It is 10:45 PM, and Lynchburg is three hours away. We give them an extra side of fries (no salt of course) and directions to a nearby hotel.

For these brief moments, I am part of their lives: in their cars, they are at home. They are surrounded by their trash and listening to their music, dancing with their friends and crying alone, oblivious to the stranger taking their order. On the surface, these people are wildly different; they range from babies clad in Dolphin’s jerseys (“Her first pre-game party!”) to grandmothers out for ladies’ night; college students looking for a cheese sauce fix to parents on a dieting kick (“Chicken sandwich on a lettuce wrap”). But, despite every contrasting characteristic, they all ended up in the same place: my drive-thru, my portal to their worlds.

*Click* It’s a family, squished into a little car. When I hand them their bags, they happily open them and devour the food. The mother asks me for extra napkins, forks, and knives.
“We just moved,” she explains. “And everything is still in boxes.”
I moved a lot as a child, so I know what they’re going through. I give them an entire pack of utensils.
As the car leaves, the kids in the backseat press their faces against the car window and wave. I wave back as the car slowly makes it way toward 50. New to the area, they have yet to adopt the hurried rush that comes with the proximity to DC.

Customers like these help me realize I am not just a passive traveller in this drive-thru - I do not just watch and observe. I laugh and I help and I talk with them, if only for a few moments. They tell me about their lives, and I mention stories from mine. Over my hundreds of hours behind the drive-thru window, thousands of different people have come through, sharing snippets of their diverse lives. All they have in common when they come in is the desire for greasy fast food. However, by the time they leave, they share something else: a nugget of my life.

The drive-thru portal takes me to disparate places; to Lynchburg, to the grocery store to buy cheese sauce, to a new home filled with opportunity and cardboard boxes. It transports me back to my room, where I hug my dog and feed her chicken and treats. It is a portal to the world, hidden in the corner of a fast-food kitchen.

With each click, that door opens. (764)

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