College Admissions Essay: Moving To High School

When people tell you that high school would be the best time of your life, you don’t really understand the magnitude of what they’re saying until your time is coming to an end. A lot of people say that you “find yourself” in college. I, however, had the advantage of finding myself in high school. These past six years have been awesome, and I really mean it. I know it might not seem believable for a high school student to enjoy school, but I’m not lying about this stuff. I felt this way even before there was a scholarship to apply for. My mom taught me from a young age to enjoy going to school, and as much stress as it might have caused me over the years, I still loved every second of it. It’s easy to focus on the undesirable parts like sleep

I want to end this story on a happy note. I really do. But I dread me going away to college, leaving Inaara in high school. But I dread the idea of me pouring all of my hard work into this essay and only see the minus on my transcript. But I dread the day I'm going to have to confront Andrew, the kid with aspirations to football in college, about playing lineman instead of wide receiver again next season, signifying the fact that our passing in the morning had truly been for nothing. At least the essay I’ve dreaded for so long is now finished.

I was in eighth grade -so right around 13 years old. I had spent the majority

“You are not college material, look at these grades,” my Mother proclaims as she looks at my recent report card. “Stick with sports kid” my Father, adds. The sad part is, I actually believed them.

I am a southern bred leader, pursuer, and helper whos mission is to spread peace, love, unity, and respect among many to create a world of cheerfulness and brotherhood. I am Austin William Carricoand this is my story. All my life I have lived in the small town of Crestview and grew up among the wilderness along with its inhabitants. As the town grew exponentially into a vast city, my heart, my mind, and my soul grew with it, learning the ways to help others and slowly turning from a boy to the young man I am today. I now attend Collegiate High School continuing my journey at the ripe age of fifteen, still promoting peace as a mission for others even when I left my former school, Niceville High.

I’m Andy Adams a Junior in high school and in early middle college. I clearly don’t have a favorite subject yet, but soon enough. In English class I’m a little rusty on some stuff, but can work through it. I’m very motivated, when there is an assignment I’m on it right away and get done. I do get rusty on test and I still get retakes if I failed miserably and still get on it. I’m very good in English like I get a B previous English classes.

High School was hard for me. Not in terms of course work but emotionally it was difficult. I had no guidance and had an overwhelming feeling of being an outcast. My bi-racial heritage—African American and Irish—made it difficult for me to fit in with any one ethnic group and exacerbated the feeling of isolation. Eventually I found the solace of alcohol and drugs and from there I began to drift. I dropped out in eleventh grade and spent a year in an out-patient program meeting regularly with a consulor and therapist. During this time, seduced by the plaintive moans of the blues, I taught myself to play guitar, a skill that would prove life saving in the dark years ahead. The next year I found my way back to a new school and graduated on time, but my problems with drugs and

Passion is necessary to excel. Once someone loses desire or motivation for something it becomes quite difficult to continue doing well in that field. I went through a crisis of lost motivation in my first two years of high school.

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.

Excelling in everything I do is a goal that I strive for no matter what it is I’m doing. I have worked so hard for everything I’ve achieved throughout my four years of high school, and have been accepted into the Naval Academy Preparatory School because of that determination. Being one step closer to an appointment to the United States Naval Academy has not only kept my eye on the prize, but has also pushed me harder to keep doing my absolute best.

The first morning I walk into my job I actually went to the wrong floor but I got there eventually. I felt very nervous, as any other freshmen intern would feel. Everyone at accounting said I was cute and tiny, which I thought was good. They didn’t have me work on anything major as it was my first day so I don’t think they want to overwhelm me with work on my first day. I could instantly tell that I would like it here, everyone was so nice and it was like they were family and I wanted to be a part of that family. Now that I’m at the end of my first year I can proudly say that I have fulfilled my goal of getting to know many of my co-workers and forming a bond with most of them. I’ve learned many things from my co-workers. They’ve given me advice about school and how I should carry myself through the future. For that, I can’t thank them enough on how much of an impact they have made in my high school experience.

For as long as I can remember, since graduating high school and becoming a mother, I have aspired to return to school and get my Bachelor’s Degree in Business and Human Resource Management. It has always been a dream of mine. I hope by furthering my education, I will inspire my children to put forth their best effort, and that they will be more eager to get the most out of their education. My experience thus far, has been a compelling time for me. During the first two days of school, I was a basket case, my thoughts were all over the place. By the third and fourth day, my nerves finally calmed down. I was able to comprehend a little more about e-Campus, and what was expected of me. Currently in week three, I am feeling more confident

My family and I had lived in Oregon for my entire life. We had moved a couple times, but nothing enormous. I was getting to the age where I would have to go to high school soon but my mother did not want me to board, because she did not like it when my brother boarded. So she started looking around for a nice high school with a job opening in the area for her as well as my father, all of this going on without my knowledge of course. One day when I was on my mother's computer I “accidently” found out where my mother was considering we would move to. That was the day I found out we would be moving across the country to Virginia.

I remember waking up that morning feeling rather pleasant. That was until I remembered it was Monday. I really didn’t want to go to school that day. I was in second grade and already wanted to graduate. I thought I was done. Nothing was ever fun at school it seemed. There was a girl in my class named Vanessa that always seemed like to make my life miserable, her hair was absolutely gorgeous. Ringlets of chocolate brown that shined down her back. It made me sick . She’d always glare at me and make rude comments that got on my nerves. However, there was something that wasn’t all bad at school and that was my teacher. She handed out candy to everyone just about everyday. And she always had a big smile on her face. She was my “protector.” Mrs.Armstrong

A sharp murmur echoed in my ears as my pencil scribbled across my paper. I was working rapidly on my essay, attempting to perfect my edits. My pencil kept running along, and the murmur finally grew to a voice, stunting me from my progress. I finally looked up, into the face of a classmate, looking annoyed, asking, “What do we edit?”. I responded with the exact directions our teacher had given us, and went back to my writing. By the end of class, I was the only student finished with my essay, and had time left to do as I pleased. As I was getting out my headphones to watch a video or two on my phone, I heard my friend’s familiar voice, “Yeah, Bailee looks done of course. She loves work. It’s all she ever does.” I was momentarily proud of my reputation as a hard worker, until her words sank in: others thought I was a cold overachiever.