General College Essay
I handled the metal nervously; nervously, my willful negligence deliciously tormenting me. A single bullet, and with it the power to exert my will upon whatever I wished. I had no need for a gun. I wouldn't have been permitted to own one even if I had needed to. The bullet was illicitly sourced from underneath the front porch of a friends old cabin. Though initially ordered by my parents not to keep it, their pleas went unheeded. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, filling my heart with artificial courage. Not once did the idiocy of actions cross my six year-old brain, why should it? With not a single being present on the neighborhood block besides myself, I prepared to let my naive curiosity get the better of me.
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In my youth, I surmised in my incredible guilt and immaturity, that the bullet had probably killed someone. Tormented by my conscience and sure that I would be deaf for life, I finally confessed my error to my parents.Trembling from fear towards the inevitability of what I was about to face, my sweaty hands finally succeeded in opening the door to my parents room.
“I have something to tell you.” I muttered.
My parents glanced questioningly towards me.
“You know those bullets I found under the cabin?”
The disappointment already shown in my parents eyes; they knew exactly what was coming.
My dry cracking lips moved slowly, articulating the entire incident to the very people who had ordered me not to take the bullet. I professed my fear that my reckless behavior had led to the untimely demise of someone else. My parents were disappointed, and certainly a little bit shocked, but not angry. Luckily to my great surprise, no one was killed and my hearing soon returned, but the guilt was the hardest to deal with. From that day forward, I swore I would think over every minute action, I would live my life in such a way that I could be free of regret. This obligation to myself has held me accountable for all my actions. Just as the danger of an errant bullet puts the safety of everyone including it’s shooter at risk, actions taken without thought are likewise harmful. That is not to say that an event with risk is ruled out for the
This article provides an insightful view into the perceived and real status of community colleges in relation to their university counterparts. Once thought of as a place merely for underachievers to attend for workforce training, Trowbridge points out these institutions now have more to offer. They provide an affordable opportunity for students to complete the same courses that are available at the university for a fraction of the cost. Noting the financial savings in comparison to the traditional university, along with the overall quality of instruction, local community colleges have become a viable alternative for those seeking a college education without the incurring unnecessary amounts of debt.
Well-rounded are the first words that come to mind when I think of Purdue students, especially engineers. I had the pleasure of meeting many influential Purdue engineers who have firsthand experience in the Honors College through my father’s work. These people exemplified the impact that is possible. This and their help has influenced my path in life.
To many high school students, college seems like a far away land, a mysterious place where everyone wants to be yet not many know how to get there. As children, our parents tell us how much time we have to think about college, and that it is too far down the line to think about. The truth is it is never too early to think about your future. I, like many people, put little thought into my future career and now am lost in an unfortunate mix of indecision and anxiety. Not knowing where you want to be in the future is a hard burden to bear. Many of us tend to find out that we only know what we do not want, not what we actually do want. Do we want to be poor? Absolutely not. Do we want a boring job? Of course we don’t. We all want our
I am writing to you in regards to the blog you posted “The Case Against College Education.” You mentioned, “It is absurd that people have to get college degrees to be considered for good jobs in hotel management or accounting…” It is crucial for an individual to acquire a college degree, however, the American education system is unfair. By attending a college, students have a higher chance of economic success in the future and undergo opportunities to explore a wide variety of possible paths. There are various ways to get a college degree but in the end, there needs to be a lot of reform around education. The question remains, should we help more kids go to college or make it easier for people who did not attend college.
As I frantically got my lunch, books, and backpack together for school, I heard the news in the living room ringing in my ears. Another shooting down in American history, this one at Sandy Hook Elementary School. The news reporter began to talk about Adam Lanza, the shooter, who was deeply troubled in his teenage years. As the reporter elaborated, he revealed details that Lanza had access to guns. I felt my chest begin to tighten as I thought about dangerous people having the ability to purchase guns with no struggle. With each word spilling out of the reporter’s mouth I suddenly felt like oxygen was escaping my body and a sense of fear came over me. Out of nowhere, like a train hitting a car, I heard my mom yell, “It’s time to go, it’s 7:35.” I say, “Okay I’m coming!” even though
I shared in the first discussion for this book about the first killing I have known by someone close to me. A teen whose widowed father was dating my widowed mother. The partisan side of the victim’s family painted an overly exaggerated defense against him. I like everyone else wanted to witness the trial, but our parents would not allow us, and the school prohibited any student from missing school to attend unless they were called as a witness. On the day of the sentencing, I recalled my mother saying it was not a fair sentencing. I was barely a teen and all I can remember from the trial was that the judge
I find myself looking over my shoulder every time I step outside my front door. Violence has opened my eyes and destroyed my dreams of peace. When I first moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico, I moved into a neighborhood that was full of gangs and drugs. Philadelphia represented a new start, a chance for me to breathe again. I had experienced a tragic shooting right before my ten year old eyes in Puerto Rico; my mom’s best friend was killed, while the murderer calmly walked away. We escaped to Philadelphia, and I thought my days of witnessing horrific violence were over. However, my dreams were shattered like gunshots in the night. One day, while I was napping, I was awoken by a series of deafening pops. As soon as I heard them, I dropped
College In the 1920 was very different. In the 1920s the College felt very luxurious to students from less affluent homes. There was a lot of food and there was a large staff of maids who worked very long hours. They not only dealt with housework and serving at table, but also made the student’s beds and cleaned their shoes. Indeed, much time at the General Meetings of undergraduates was spent discussing the complexities and responsibilities of various forms of social behavior. In 1927 the President of the J.C.R regularly received complaints that 'students walked bareheaded about the town', and had to request that hats should be worn in public places.
When the gunshot rang through my ears, I, as well as everyone around me was stunned in confusion, fear, and lack of comprehension. They looked around to see where the bullet had landed and noticed him, a man in his late forties looking down at his stomach. The hand that covered the area was stained with a thick, dark red color that coated his clothing. The crowd drew away from him as he fell to his knees, just realizing that he’d been shot and he was going to die. When he looked up at the police, they looked away, ashamed of their actions and unaware of the impact his death would have on his family, his friends.
The prominent red-yellow flame glistened as if the colors overbearingly fought for dominance. Being in shock, the teacher came over and immediately reacted by stamping it out quickly and aggressively. I observed the anger and confusion in his face. “Who did it?” he asked. At this moment, I wanted to disappear immediately as a shock of guilt and fear overshadowed me with regrets. Why had I not stopped it? Was it for acceptance and approval? Or out of fear and unconsciousness? It remained silent. Trying to avoid eye contact with my peers and mainly his bulging eyes, before I knew it, I, along with 5 others, was escorted to a grim place, the office. Still, it was silent and I sat there wondering what I will say to the officer and to my parents. The longer I sat there the more I started to shake as all of these “What ifs and why’s?” submerged my mind. Finally, I was being questioned as to my role in the event. Convincing him that I didn’t take part in it was hard enough, but what appeared to be even worse, is that I had to accept that fact that I was still guilty regardless. I couldn’t say what I wanted to in words because I had said all that I could and would not be able to take anything back. As it occurred to be too late, all I could do was cry wretched, unfortunate
My enemy was hit. I didn’t have to worry anymore. I hurried and left to get to street level but then curiosity came over me. I wanted to see who I killed, so I decided to risk going over to have a look at him.I darted across the street. A machine gun tore up the ground around me with a hail of bullets, but I escaped. I threw myself face downward beside the corpse. The machine gun stopped.Then I turned over the dead body and looked into my brother's face. I promise that I didn’t know! I would have never shot my brother, I love him. I don’t know what he was doing their. If I would have known I would have never shot him, I would have let him shoot me. I’m sorry mother! I know that there’s nothing that can change what happened. I'm sorry. In
Beating at the heart of the Southern Oregon Honors College community lies a close-knit community that focuses on deeper discussions between students and a student-interest driven content with programs like Take the Lead Projects and Pick and Choose Activities. Small communities, like the honors college, have been a major part of my life since middle school. This is one of the major reasons why I want to be a part of the honors college community. I want to immerse myself in an intellectual space where people take responsibility for their actions and communicate with others in an honest, compassionate way while in a small-scale setting. I think a lot of successful communities do this. When members are comfortable being open about what they want from their community and communicate that in an empathetic way, a deeper bond is created and people can delve into their creativity more because they do not fear judgment.
"Tomorrow is the first day of what I will become." I wrote this in my diary the night before my first day of college. I was anxious as I imagined the stereotypical college room: intellectual students, in-depth discussions about neat stuff, and of course, a casual professor sporting the tweed jacket with leather elbows. I was also ill as I foresaw myself drowning in a murky pool of reading assignments and finals, hearing a deep, depressing voice ask "What can you do with your life?" Since then, I've settled comfortably into the college "scene" and have treated myself to the myth that I'll hear my calling someday, and that my future will introduce itself to me with a hardy handshake. I can't completely rid my
Everyone has or should have an ideal; something which he can look forward to, of which he may dream, and for which he may strive. In our colleges we come across many defects or limitations. We often discuss these among ourselves. And in course of these discussions, and as a result of them, we come to cherish a vague notion of what would be an ideal college, at last, what we would regard as an ideal. Here of course I speak mostly for myself.
Recently, Yale University announced that it would be removing former Vice President John C. Calhoun name from one of their residential colleges. While we know now that slavery was immoral and ultimately abolished, Calhoun, an 1804 Yale graduate was a committed slavery supporter. The university will remained the said residential college after Navy Rear Admiral Grace Murray Hopper who was a pioneering computer scientist.