College Admissions Essay: Growing Up

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

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.

Being a senior in high school is bittersweet. We’ll all be done with a huge chapter in our lives that has taken up ⅔ of our book so far. Though I am sad to leave, I am even more excited. The school gave me some tips to survive in the college and the rest of my life. School has taught me many things from how to write an essay to how to find the power of a triangle to how to cook Spanakopita correctly. I have also learned a lot about myself and my beliefs.

Moving to the US with my dad, I had to learn to take care of myself and be independent. I had to tell myself that my mom is a thousand miles away and i’m on my own now. I used to cry every night because I was feeling homesick and i miss my mom and siblings so much. I miss the moments in the place I grew up in. I miss all the moments that I had with my siblings, playing and just being kids. I miss the moments where my mom would teach me how to cook and how to do other chores at home. I miss the moments where my mom was just steps away ready to comfort me. Because of this huge transition in my life, I became the person who I am today. I learned how to be independent and be stronger. I learned how to be a bigger person. My first week in the US was quite difficult. I wake up every morning only to realize that i’m in a different place. I cook breakfast for myself everyday, and I felt really lonely because I was just by myself in the kitchen. I feel so alone. Everything in the US was very fast paced and you have to move quickly or you’ll get left behind and you wouldn’t have any progress. On my first day at school, i felt so left out. Everybody were talking to their friends and there I was standing in the corner, not sure what to do. I tried to blend in but it was hard for me because i was scared that they might judge me. However, after a couple more weeks, I finally adjusted to my new lifestyle and met

As humans we all have stories and/or experiences that shape our thinking and feeling about the life we live in this world. The world I come from and grew up in has shaped and motivated me to set up my own goals and achieve my dreams because I had many challenges living with my mother under poverty.

It has always been hard for me to properly envision my future, as it is always changing. As a child I thought of becoming a doctor, in middle school I dreamt of becoming a journalist, and my plans for the future are still shifting. However, there has always been one common element among my aspirations for the future, and that is the desire to engage in and improve the lives of others. This central desire is what leads me to choose Georgetown as the school which perfectly encapsulates my interests.

Growing up I was never the kid who talked too much or got in trouble in the classroom for doing so. In my 18 years of living I have never been considered very talkative or vocal. My father would always tell me that talking too much could land you in a big heap of trouble so I refused to do so. He had a phrase, “One thing guaranteed for a person that talks too much is swollen lips”. Hearing that as a child was kind of funny to me, but as I have gotten older I now realize what he was interpreting. I have seen a lot of people get into altercations for running their mouth’s too much and swollen lips is usually the ending result. Although I don’t talk much, I believe I can hold a pretty decent conversation with someone I have things in common with. I use to avoid talking to strangers, but being put in different settings with nothing but strangers has helped me with that to a

I didn’t want to have to leave my friends in Nashville and be forced to make new ones in Atlanta. I didn’t want to get used to another new house or another city. I just wanted to stay in the only place I could call home. As the day of my departure approached, I thought of running away, so I wouldn’t have to move and my dad could keep his job in Atlanta. Thankfully, I never went through with it. When the day finally arrived, I was everything but ready. My mom had picked my brother up from school early to help move boxes out of the house and into our car while the movers haled broken down beds, and other pieces of furniture into their industrial moving trucks. Once everything was packed into trucks, paper work was finished and dogs were loaded in the car, we began the long 4-hour trip to Atlanta as dusk made its way to the sky. The trip itself was a calm one, we managed to avoid any major accidents on the highway, and we were traveling around 8 o’clock so the traffic had died down. As we drove I couldn’t help but think back to the friends I left and what was to come

I was thirteen when I graduated from middle school. It was a big day in my family, my parents hadn't finished high school, so they were very excited to see another daughter move onto high school and higher education. This was an event that showed how willing I was to pursue an education, in my family it showed maturity and responsability.

I was at a loss of words. My whole life was here, and in an instant, it was being ripped away from me. The issue was that I wasn’t just moving schools or moving to another city nearby, I was moving to a city an hour and a half away. I didn’t know how to react. My parents noticed this, so they each stepped out of the kitchen, my mom squeezing my shoulder as she walked past me. I stood there for a couple minutes, not thinking, not speaking, not moving. I simply took a deep breath, and finally sat down, listening to nothing but the

I am an awkward, nerdy self-proclaimed non-conformist who lives behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. You can find me sporting distressed denim, earth tone tank tops and my beat up Converse All-Stars. I capture life’s fleeting moments with my sunflower yellow Polaroid camera. I am a lover of laughter and a purveyor of puns. The smallest things bring tears to my eyes; I am not afraid to show my emotions through my obvious facial expressions. My height is five feet two inches; my shoe size is 7; my green eyes are outlined with an amber circle; my hair is brown and wavy. I look up to everything and down at nothing. I write with my right hand but draw better with my left. My life is a tangled, extensive web of emotions

Isn’t it just great dying slowly? In the beginning there was man and woman-both fine specimens. Although they grew older and weaker they made more off spring to keep the species alive. I think it’s depressing to grow old. It makes you want to live life to the fullest.

It was my mom's older sister, Chas. All I could hear was the mumbling of my aunt on the other end of the phone. My mom did not say much, and the phone call did not last long. My mom's face showed fear and anxiety, and instantly I knew it wasn't good news. "Trent was in a terrible accident this morning with a couple of friends out in Plainville," my mom said in dismay. She walked out to her car to charge her slowly dying phone because almost every item we owned was packed away in boxes. The house was quiet; the sound of the heat pumping away was evident. I did not know what to think; my dad and I just hoped my cousin Trent was going to be okay. My mom was outside sitting in her car waiting for a call back from her sister. My brother stood outside with her. I sat in the packed living room full of unopened boxes. My dad was in his room trying to forget about the uneasiness of what might happen. My ten-month-old baby brother was sound asleep along with my two-year-old little sister. She laid in her crib peacefully with her blanket snuggled up to her face

Awaking with the knowledge that the room I had slept in for the past six years would not be the same room that I would rest my head that evening or for six more years was a hard idea to consume. After taking the final morning stretch and dressing for the day, I awaited the moving truck to make its presence known in front of our big yellow apartment building surrounded by a white picket fence. While waiting said truck we began to finish packing our left over dishes and clothing. During that time, I returned to my room I began to take down my posters, plastic ceiling stars that I would stare at every night and ponder the future over and pack them into a nearby crate. I was thirteen at the time of the move and a recent graduate of elementary school, I remember feeling like such an elder, but I assumed that I would graduate elementary school, go to one of the best high schools in my area, and then go to college in New York so that I was not too far from home but finally had the opportunity to fulfill that need for difference I always thirsted for as a child. It was when the back of our moving van was opened that I realized that I would not get to obtain any of those goals and that it was best to move forward and begin to accept the new

Everyday was different after that. I felt like I should not take anything for granted. Mikayla and I wanted to tell my little brother, who was only six years old at the time. We told him that mom and dad were going to live in different houses and that everyone would eventually be a lot happier. He was too young to fully understand what we meant but he seemed