This is for all of y'all applying to college with applications due in the coming weeks. Ask anything, post anything. I'll start it off with a personal statement I just wrote about my health. It needs to be revised and edited, but I'm not sure who to ask. So I turn to the BBS.... I'll warn you it's kind of graphic (as in it goes into some graphic details; not disgusting) and it does drag on a bit. There's probably a few sentecnes and definitely a paragraph or two that don't need to be there. I feel that I need a better ending. Here it is.. In February of 2003, I was admitted into the local hospital. My Crohn's Disease had worsened to a point where my large intestine was completely blocked and had been so for nearly a week. Having just returned from a trip to London the month prior, I remained somewhat ill from the cold I had developed. In turn, I underwent an emergency colon resection and appendectomy where eight inches of my large intestine was removed. Neither my family nor I knew just how bad my health was. I missed about six weeks (or one grading period) of school, which is why I only completed two classes in the spring semester of my junior year. I decided against the home bound tutorials that the school system offered, because I wanted to remain on schedule for graduation with my class. So I played catch up in both my English and History classes up until the final, which was a presentation about the Gold Rush, requiring 100 resources of information. I worked on the eight-page paper and project until literally the night before my presentation. I’m still amazed how well I did in both classes with virtually no instruction through a good portion of the year. One would think that I would never want to return to a hospital on my own will. Well, just a few months later that is exactly what I did. In early June, it was decided that I would require surgery to repair my pectus excavatum, which I had since my birth. It was supposed to be fixed in the summer of 1998, but the operation did not quite suffice. The original surgery included placing a stainless steel bar in my chest, pushing up the ribcage and sternum, forcing the chest to be flat. My chest never was flat; in fact after the bar was removed in December of 2000, my chest seemed to have sunk further. In July of this past summer, I underwent the second, more extensive chest repair. This time, my chest was exposed and the sternum had to be separated from the area around the ribs. The cartilage at the end of the ribs, which was the reason that the chest was sunken in the first place, had to be completely removed manually. Once completed, a metal bar was placed in the chest for support. Three days later, the metal bar flipped inside of my chest. The surgeon said that in his entire career or maybe 300-500 chest repairs, only once had the bar flipped. Immediately, I underwent another operation to repair this. The bar was stabilized and I was sent home just two days later. For about three days, the pain in my chest was so great that I could barely breathe. I was literally immobile. Every time I moved my body, the muscle group would contract causing the worst pain imaginable. This was not a fun experience. Back to the hospital I went, where it was learned that the bar had flipped once more. What were the odds? After obtaining morphine, my pain joyfully went away. I underwent another procedure the next day, where a tiny pin bar was put in place. This time it worked. The good thing about this bar is that it is taken out just months after it is placed in. As the date for removal approached, I became more and more nervous, just wanting to avoid another hospital visit. The fear was all for naught, because as it turned out, the recovery time was longer than the procedure. I was able to go home the same day. Finally, some luck on my side. This entire ordeal may not have even occurred if I underwent the manual repair the first time around in 1998. With me being very scrawny at the time, my parents decided against having the operation, which would have been done by none other than famed doctor, Denton Cooley. My health has been poor throughout my life, so I was never able to play full contact sports, even though I have great passion for basketball, baseball, and even football. My experiences have given me an interesting perspective on life in a way that not many have can relate to. I have become a stronger individual, knowing that if I was able to persevere through illness, I can accomplish any task necessary. Whether or not I want to study medicine is another question. At least I'm feeling better now. --------- Any input appreciated! Graphic enough?
Wow sorry to read about all the health problems you've dealt with over your life. You definitely have great material to use for your personal statement. College admissions committee's love it when they read about somebody who has overcome the odds and substantial challenges to succeed. I think you're on the right track. However, if I were you, I would spend a bit less time describing the actual medical procedures and more time on how you've grown as a person and matured as a result of it. You did that in a couple of sentenes at the end, but I would build that out more. I'm not sure if you're bumping up against the length constraints or not but if you're not, I would add another paragraph going into more detail about how this ordeal has transformed your way of thinking as a person. Good luck to you. teXXX
Other than throwing a rather festive pity party for yourself, what information in that essay is useful to a college admissions committe member? At this point it just sounds like you are going to do your part to jack up the health insurance premiums. What does that essay say about your leadership? About your maturity? About your ambitions? What does it say about your passions and values? Zilch. The 'shock value' story introduction has become cliche in admissions essays. Your story engulfs your entire essay. The beef of your essay should be how the story has changed you personally and how you are ready to make a big contribution to the campus and beyond. At this point, I regret to tell you ADMISSION DENIED
Are you applying to medical school? Perhaps you could mention something about how you feel like you have been tortured by doctors, and now it is payback time. You could use that for law school, too.
The key part that you should spend more time on is the fact that you managed to successfully complete your Gold Rush presentation despite your illness. While your hospitalizations certainly will draw sympathy, college admission boards will be more interested in your ability to accomplish things (I would try to think of more things than just one project) despite your condition. Look deep into yourself and ask "How has my illness affected my goals and the way I want to accomplish them?" Just make sure that you maintain a "storyline" no matter what you add or remove from your essay. Nobody wants to read a list of accomplishments, desires, goals, etc. That's what the other parts of the college application are for.
As much as I hate to admit it, T_J has a point. Need much more emphasis on "overcoming adversity and obstacles" and "how your poor health has challenged you to become a better person" and yadda, yadda, yadda. Write less about the actual story itself. Right now, your personal statement has no point other than to evoke pity, and that's not good enough. Yet, it is a good start, though. Remember: Always write what you know.
Vecsey and T_J are both correct, but I think you also need to put someting in there about you ambitions or goals.
I have goals? Thanks for the input (and I'll make it less gory and more sympathetic) next time. It's too early in the morning to write.
Well, I suppose that depends on where he's applied, doesn't it? I think it's important to tailor your essay to whatever school you're applying at. For example, when applying to Ithaca College (where I now go), I wrote about how I like to punch pregnant women in the stomach, help death-row inmates escape, and steal vast quantities of money from hard-working Americans so that I can redistribute it to bloodsucking illegal aliens. But if I had been applying at a more conservative school - say, for example, UC Berkeley - the topic would have been completely different. So yeah, definitely bear in mind what college you're applying at when writing the essay for it.
I have to side with my normal foils T_J and bigtexxx on this one, nobody wants to hear graphic medical details; mind-numbing Dr. Phil-esque self empowerment jargon is the order of the day.
Actually this was just an extension on the section that asks about extenuating circumstances. And I wrote it in about twenty minutes yesterday. I don't feel like revising it, but I guess I will. See, I'm one of those very lazy types who doesn't deserve admission to half the colleges I'm applying to. But what can I say.
I'm also trying to apply for transfer for the Fall of 2003. I am trying to become an Art Conservator, and I am applying to Rice University, the University of Denver, Colorado, and New York University. This is my personal statement on why I think I should be admitted: The town of Mendota was founded as a farming community, and a railroad depot. Its population has hovered just over seven thousand people for the past three to four decades. Mendota’s residents are primarily white, or Hispanic, of varying financial positions, and there are two trailer parks, each located on the edge of town, one on the southwest side, and another on the southeast. My parents moved to that small town in 1978, two years before I was born. We are the only Chinese-American family in the area- my siblings and I suffered because of it, at the hands and lips of our peers. In high school, I bounced around subjects, in honors classes, mostly because I tested well. However, I did not make good grades, because high school was living hell for me, and the bleak financial situation of my family convinced me we could not pay for college, despite financial aid. In my senior year of high school, on a fluke, I talked to a Navy recruiter, and soon was wrapped up in a deal to head into the Navy for six years to be a nuclear engineer. I passed all their mathematical tests with flying colors, and felt this was the best way for me to pay for college later on. Once there, in the summer following graduation, I severely sprained my back, and was given a medical discharge. That was the summer of 1998. I had met Jason, my boyfriend, in the spring of 1998. He was valedictorian of his school, and all the things that 'good' people are made of. Raised on a farm, he has worked manual labor since he was a child; he succeeds, because he likes to win. A National Merit scholar, Jason's accomplishments have not been gained by chance, he has worked for everything. It is a good model to live by. He was moving to Houston to attend UH, who had offered him a full ride in the engineering school. After being discharged, I immediately went to a local community college, which financial aid would just about cover. I worked off a loan from my grandparents by sheet-rocking and painting their basement, and other various chores which youth and vigor are best suited for. I did reasonably well for my grades, and worked at a hardware store to pay for my books and other things I needed. However, the college was filled with most of the people I went to high school with, and found myself faced with the same cliques, stereotypes, and judgments I had faced throughout my developing years. I desperately wanted to get away from my small town, and my family, and felt change would be good; I applied to UH, and was accepted. I moved to Houston in January of 1999. I lived in the dorms, and worked at Barnes and Noble. My primary intent was to enroll in the only thing that interested me at the time, in the architecture school, but I needed to apply in the fall semester, so I only took core classes that spring. The financial strain of being an out-of-state student with modest financial aid forced me to work long hours, and my grades suffered because of it. We needed to move back to Illinois for the summer anyways- we didn't have anywhere to stay in Houston, and no money for an apartment, so we headed back. We lived at my sister's, and the following August, I drove Jason to Houston, and returned to live at my parents. I was only there for a month. I worked at a pizza parlor, and did well enough to have my own apartment, and buy a new car. I didn't return to school. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and didn't see the point to spending money on an education that might not be necessary. Besides, I needed to make money, so I began to work, here and there. It was a rootless, shifting time. I worked pretty much all day, all night, and returned to a big, empty apartment with three pieces of furniture. I had no phone, television, or computer. I loved it. I read, began experimenting with an old camera, convinced that I would teach myself photography, and thought. Jason and I still kept in touch, and he stayed with me over spring break. He asked me to move down to Houston again to live with him, even though he was still going to school. His housing stipend was adequate for student housing next to UH. I only needed to work to pay for food, gas, and the bills. So, in May of 2000, I moved to Houston again. I immediately began working for a local restaurant, and I have been there since. As a child, I loved art; all parts of it. Reading about the artists, why they painted or made the things they did, how it was made, and the story in the pictures. I was rather advanced in art classes, and heard much about 'natural talent'. I drew all the funny things girls liked to draw. But I was also very good at other things- mathematics, science, and I read constantly. I began cleaning houses at age 10 to start paying for the books I wanted to read, and exhausted the library of interesting material by age 12. I liked doing everything, and could never honestly answer, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" In the Fall of 2001, I was restless. I applied to Houston Community College just so I could do something, take some art classes, and have a little direction. Once there, I relished the experience of being in school again, convinced that I would find something for me. During October of that year, a friend of mine asked me to paint her a picture. It is because of this painting that I have received commissions for the past two and a half years. I paint privately, at home, various caprices for people desiring some piece of art for another. Maybe I could study to be a fine artist, concentrating my college career on that. However, out of over two dozen paintings, only one of them has stirred me. A wedding gift, chosen by the couple; I replicated J.S. Sargent’s "Fumee d'Ambre Gris." I have wanted to paint it for ages. I find that I get more enjoyment in the ability to copy and work like the people I have admired for so long. I am doing others now: Leighton, Turners, a scant few, because I cannot spare the time. My biggest problem when it comes to school is frustrating me to this day- creativity. I thrive on my ability to paint and draw, but what riles me the most is the motivation to create. I can do it, and I want to, but I need a purpose. A reason to do something. How can I be a fine artist when I cannot make myself do something? True creativity is creating without necessity, and having new ideas. I had none. When I was thirteen, my grandparents gave me a copy of National Geographic. The main article: the restoration of the Sistine Chapel, and "The Last Judgement." I wore out the copy by my excessive reading. From that point on, it made perfect sense to me. Of course there were people to take care of paintings- a museum is created for the preservation of history. Its sole purpose is the celebration of being able to bring time to a slow grind, so future generations can experience greatness. After all, I cleaned houses for a living; someone must clean the David. My secret plan leaked out, and I soon spoke with one Ray Balinskas, a local private art conservator. He gave me a few books to read, and let me watch for a day. I also contacted a Chicago conservator, and asked him what classes he took which were necessary for his position. And lastly, best of all, I was able to meet someone very prominent in the field of conservation. Carol Mancusi-Ungaro, and we were introduced to her from a customer of mine. She gives graduate lectures at Harvard University, in association with the Whitney. I was only able to talk to her for a brief time, because she flew in from New York for only that day, and many people were expecting her. She told me that it was very important for me to become a pre-program intern, which I am currently trying to attain at the MFAH, through some contacts she gave me. What was most defining in our discussion was her motivation at my age. She also painted, and created her own art, however, she never felt that she had any creativity, despite her talent Since my talks with Carol, I feel focused. I am determined to do well, and have disciplined myself throughout the past decade and a half that I must work hard to accomplish my goals. I have been lucky to gain the love and support of those closest to me, for when times get a bit rough. Success does not come by chance, and I have proved to myself again and again that I have a good work ethic, and I am an intelligent, capable human being.
LOL. Zac D, I don't think anyone will get your joke but me. I feel your pain, bro. I went to Cornell, so I know how liberal things are in that little s**thole known as Ithaca. (Although I will admit I do miss D.P Dough (barbecue chicken calzone), Simeon's, and Mano's Diner.) How are things at IK, anyway?
Snowy, windy, and ****ing cold. I'm a Drop Zone man myself. Chicken, pepperoni, and God knows how many kinds of artery-destroying cheeses. Mmmmmmmm... sweet nectar of the heavens. How long ago did you graduate? Did you ever go cliff jumping?
Yes, but is it ithacating outside? I graduated in 2000. And yes, I went cliff-jumping with my fraternity once. Ithaca is gorges, y'know.
I think it's too cold for anything but unambiguous snow to be falling. Give it a couple of months. I already broke my vow never to get one of those shirts. I want one of the "Ithaca is Gangsta" ones. Those are hardcore!
I guess Trader thought that was your essay and not just one part of your admissions process. I agree that you should talk more about how you overcame the health problems you faced and still did great in school, unless you want to show off how well you can write, which is important, by describing the everything in great detail. Use a thesaurus, but make sure you don't just replace plain sounding words with bigger ones. You have to change your sentences around so that it still flows.
Yeah, I mean when I wrote it I knew it was like telling a story. I'm too used to journalism-style writing; I never liked writing essays. It really sounds more like a weekly column.
