Scholarship Essays for College Admissions

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Personal Essay about a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates your character or helped to shape it.:

I am a twin. At the time of our birth, we were called “Baby A” and “Baby B”. Labels, comparisons, and observations surrounded us from the very beginning. However, these superficial observations and labels do not reveal how my relationship with my sister mad me a stronger individual.
The word “twin” presents a forum that people assume gives them the right to barrage us with questions from every angle. “Who’s the good twin?” “Which one is the fun one?” “Who’s the smart one?” Good, bad, smart, funny, social, shy. as the examination continues countless labels are attached to us from complete strangers. Each person strives to distinguish between Twin A and Twin B. Before we get a chance to speak, strangers figure they can categorize our personalities into black and white.

With the ongoing inspection from outsiders, Michelle and I take solace in each other. We know the other’s strengths and weaknesses. We enjoy that not everything is black and white. Our colorful personalities have many dimensions, many layers who makes us who we are as individuals. By looking at our appearances, we may look like two copies of the same person. However, inside we are unique. We recognize we are two separate people. The difficult part is displaying it to others. I am not one to back down from challenges, though.

To most people, “twin” implies a single unit. In their eyes, therefore, I am half a unit. Some attention we get is agreeable and being a twin is fun. However, some strangers, teachers, and friends, only recognize us as “the Twins”. Outsiders stereotype us with labels. Teachers choose not to distinguish one from the other. People want to be friends with us just to be able to say they know “the Twins”. Some attention we get is agreeable, and being a twin is fun. Nevertheless, what is even better is that once a person can move past the stereotyping and categorizing, they are able to meet me.
Showing people who I am means I can demonstrate myself as a unique, fun-loving, free individual. This ability of expressing my own personal ideals, opinions, and goals is a skill some do not get the opportunity to develop. Because I have to consciously consider how I want people to recognize me, I can display a uniqueness others do not know exists.

Separating the unit is not as simple as cutting down the middle, though. For my whole life, we have been “Jenny and Shelly, the Twins”. Now as we are getting older, we are trying to branch out more. We enjoy different activities, and we attempt to demonstrate to people that we are two individuals by participating in those different activities. She plays golf and I play tennis. She enjoys knitting and I like running. People close to us also recognize our differences on the inside. Michelle is a clown and loves making people laugh. I am a care-taker and making people feel better is my forte. As our interests, activities, and personalities diverge, I find it more and more difficult to identify who I am without including my relationship with my sister. I feel incomplete without my other half. I am me because of my intense, enduring relationship with my sister.

We have built each other into the people we are today. The special bond we share is tricky to explain, and perhaps it is even more difficult to understand, but my sister and I are each half of a twin and one whole individual at the same time. Those two major parts of my life overlap to create me. I am a twin-a unique, separate-but-together unit.

The first eight years of my education were spent home schooling and being taught by my mother. During that time, my education was an eclectic style in which we primarily focused on and enjoyed English and language arts. The areas of math and science were not strong points for my mother so naturally we shied away from those subjects. As a result, I excelled in linguistics, but my skills in mathematics and science were deficient. Along with wrestling with those areas, I also felt socially lacking because I spent my time in the home and very little time around other groups of children my own age. Finally in my 8th grade year I made a life-altering choice. I decided to challenge myself further by enrolling in a public junior high school. This was unarguably the biggest step I had ever taken. Upon arriving at the school, I found that I was painfully shy and had a hard time comprehending even the simplest concepts of math and science, though I worked diligently in both fields. When I was asked at the end of the year by my English teacher to write and orally give a speech at my 8th grade graduation I was terrified about speaking in front of such a large audience. However, I overcame my fear and recited at the graduation.

By my 9th grade year, my social skills were slowly improving. I could actually carry on a normal conversation without feeling self-conscious. I had worked hard enough to be placed into an algebra one class. But because my science skills were below average, I was put into an integrated science one class. Because my mother and father had very little understanding in these fields, I knew that I would have to learn on my own in class and by taking advantage of tutoring sessions. By my sophomore year, I was on track in college prep classes in both math and science. Though I struggled through geometry, I found myself enjoying my biology class. At the end of the year, I even went on an extra-curricular trip for a week to Catalina Island to learn more in the field of biology. In that one week, I learned more about science than I had in my entire years of schooling and I truly enjoyed it. That trip literally opened a new world of life to me through experiences such as snorkeling in the ocean, hiking the mountains, and sailing on a boat. By the time I became a junior, my relaxation around others had improved dramatically; my friends even began to describe me as outgoing. While I found it much easier to converse with people, I also found that my ability to understand math and science had progressed. I was able to explain how to do problems in algebra two to my classmates and I understood why chemicals bonded in chemistry. In truth, I began to actually take an interest in the two once-hated subjects. Now, as a senior, I can’t believe that I am actually enrolled in a physics and pre-calculus class. I never thought that I would have made it this far. My desire to go to college made me press further and harder than I ever thought that I could and I feel pride that I was able to reach this goal without the academic help of my family. I knew I had to do this on my own, and I did. Now, because of my experiences, I know I can rise to life’s challenges and overcome obstacles that I might have found impossible before.

“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP,” the abrupt pounding of my alarm clock obnoxiously awoke me. I turned over and took a quick peek at my clock, six o’clock, way too early. Slowly, I forced myself out of my cozy warm bed, putting on my running apparel; mittens, a hat, and layer upon layer of shirts. As I stepped outside, I was greeted by hanging icicles and glistening snow on the roads. It was the middle of a Minnesota winter; a bitter wind nipped at my checks, and I started my run with difficulty. Since ninth grade, I have run every day before school. Even though things can get very difficult, I never give up, I keep pushing on. My determination to be the best keeps me going.

Last year I demonstrated my determination to succeed when organizing prom. Everyone at Hastings High School looks forward to prom all year; it is our only formal dance. Even though it is held in May, girls get their dresses in December, and guys ask their dates even before that! It is also tradition for the four junior class officers to organize everything for prom. Since I have been the secretary of my class throughout high school, I had a mammoth obligation. Ordering sets and trying to imagine them magically transforming our gym was the easy part. However, as prom neared closer and closer it became more difficult, and we realized the gym was not going to be magically transformed; it was going to take a lot of work on our part. Two weeks prior to prom I spent my nights setting up for prom, going straight from school to golf practice to prom set-up until midnight. Even though the hours of hard work were well.HARD, it was worth it in the end. My drive and determination to make prom the best it had ever been paid off in the end as students, their parents and teachers alike marveled at our hard work.

My determination to be the best is also evident in my schoolwork and athletics. Golf is one of the hardest sports in high school to balance with schoolwork because of the amount of school we miss. Golf meets usually start early in the afternoon, so on the days we have meets, we miss the second half of the school day. As many would assume, it is extremely hard to keep up my grades when I am missing class three days of the week. Time management must be perfected for the golf season. Last year, my golf team, which I was captain of, was very competitive, coming in second in our conference and third in our section, (first place team finishers go to the state tournament). Although we excelled at golf, we also excelled at our time management, and school. Even though we failed to make it to the state tournament, we were named Academic State Champions. This means we had the best team cumulative grade point average in the state for girls golf. This was a great achievement for my team; it acknowledged our hard work and determination, on and off the golf course.

Three times is how many times I have taken the American College Test. My sweaty palms and heavy breathing however has not helped me, my scores have been disappointing all three times. Nonetheless, taking this stressful test three times shows my determination. I have not gotten down on my self either, a number is just a number, it does not represent who I am at all. Although I have not scored exceptionally outstanding on the ACT, I did improve my score every time I took it. A lot of hard work, and a little improvement every time adds up. Like Gandhi said, it takes drops of water to fill a bucket.

My determination to be the best I can be is evident in the hard work I put forward in all of my activities. I do not have a first priority, all of my activities are extremely important to me, and I take great pride in them. Although difficulties often stand in my way, I will never let them deter me.

Tell us in no more than 500 word what motivated you to apply and describe what contacts you have had with GW. We have told you about the dynamic GW classroom, campus, and city experience; now tell us how you will make use of these resources in meeting your educational goals.

I have had the privilege of living in Africa for the past several years and witnessed the need for political and economic reforms in many countries. The exposure to life in developing countries has made economics and politics very appealing to me. I want to intellectualize my experience and interests to continue to learn about the world from a global perspective. As such, I am seeking an education at George Washington University (GW) in International Affairs to critically study the issues that confront developing countries, to study the cause and effects of foreign policies, and to be equipped to develop solutions to these serious issues. Studying at a prestigious and diverse institution such as GW, which is internationally recognized for its International Affairs Program at the Elliott School of International Affairs, will contribute to my development as a concerned, enlightened and productive leader in the world. Courses in Conflict and Security in Africa, Military Force and Foreign Policy, Introduction to Peace Studies and Conflict Resolution, and War and Military in US Society will equip me with the necessary tools to achieve my goal of being an agent for change and helping others help themselves. Also, the Elliott School’s study abroad programs offer the opportunity to broaden my education and give me access to the world’s future leaders from either London or Paris.

The information and hospitality that was extended to me during the Multicultural Open House on November 19, 2005 by Dr. Kathryn Napper, Mr. Rashaan Burroughs and the student leaders solidified my decision to want to become a member of the GW community. The prospective students were friendly and the current students seemed comfortable and at home on the GW campus. The student organizations club fair offered a variety of clubs to choose and participate. I was particularly interested in the Black International Affairs Society (BIAS) Club. Additionally, GW’s non-traditional campus allows me to experience and be a part of the politics, culture and diversity of Washington, D.C. With an interest in diplomacy, economics and security, being in proximity to the U.S. Department of State, the World Bank, and the Library of Congress will augment my studies and be a positive reminder that with hard work I too can be a leader of an international institution. But most importantly, being in a competitive and nurturing classroom environment with professors and students that are open to ideas and having my ideals stretched knowing that we shall all be changed is what I want to accomplish at The GW.

I am really looking forward to studying at The George Washington University. Like GW Alumni Colin Powell, former U.S. Secretary of State, and others I too want to represent The George Washington University and the United States of America.

Everyday during school, Mr. Corzo would say to the students: “Mas Ganas!!!” meaning more spirit, and more heart. I’ve always known not to give up, but never once have I heard an expression that can capture my obstinate nature better than this one can.
I had just come from China, and everything seemed so strange to me. I felt sorry for the confused flowers that didn’t know they were supposed to bloom in the spring, I felt mystified by the unfamiliar ribbons of highways, and- most of all-I felt anxious to attend my first elementary school in the United States. It was at Burnett that I first learned to play baseball.

My first grade teacher, Miss Leahy, told us that we would be playing baseball for P.E. and then proceeded to explain the rules and techniques of the game. Before long, everybody was assigned a position and the game began. I stood at home plate, my heart pounding as I focused on the ball with a determined gleam in my eye. I swung the bat as if my life depended on it, and the ball landed near my feet with a loud thump.
Confused and frustrated, I asked Miss Leahy what I was doing wrong. She told me to practice bat control and depth perception so that I could put my bat where it would be the most effective when it comes into contact with the ball. So that is just what I did. I practiced until I got my bat to come into contact with the ball, I practiced until I could hit the ball past the pitcher’s mound, I practiced until I could hit the ball into the outfield, and then I practiced hitting the ball over and over and over again.

Today, I am still the same way. I never give up because I’m stubborn, and I know that to attain your heart’s utmost desire, it takes more than just blood, sweat, and tears. It takes sacrifice, it takes heart, and most of all, it takes determination and effort.it takes ganas. I may not be the smartest or the most athletic, but I know what it takes to achieve my goals. I know the amount of determination and effort I must put in, and I promise to show my future the same effort I showed towards hitting that home run. So this one is for you, Mr. Corzo, Mas ganas!!!!!

I love cooking. Nothing pleases me more than a pan of apple crisp toasting in the oven, or pans simmering away on the stovetop, or even the beep of a microwave.

My first experience of stirring ingredients together occurred when I was six. I sat on the floor with a plastic cup of water, hidden from my mother as she chatted on the phone. I opened a jar from a bottom cupboard, and with increasingly sticky fingers, I added pinches of powder to my cup. There I sat, hidden behind a cupboard door, sipping artificial orange juice from a plastic cup. I have since learned to use a spoon, but never have I enjoyed a drink as much as that one.

When I was nine, I created a version of candy boats. I placed a lime jelly bean in the center of a walnut shell halve, the jelly bean held fast by a powdered sugar frosting. I snipped toothpick flags and pierced them into the jelly beans. In this way, I made a fleet of sailboats that floated in my milk glass.

At age ten I stood on a kitchen chair, struggling with a wooden spoon as I counted out fifty strokes for brownie batter, just like it said on the box. These brownies soon became famous at church gatherings, and I turned out platefuls of mocha chip brownies without fear of burns (although I have several scars from struggles). I found out that anything small and edible could be mixed into brownie batter, with varying results. For instance, gummy worms don’t work as delectably as half a cup of chopped walnuts.
Cooking takes practice and patience. There have been countless mixing bowls and glass measuring cups accidentally smashed to pieces on our kitchen floor. There were many times that I would attempt a recipe again and again, only to see it go up in flames. Toffee burned black onto the bottom of a saucepan, cake batter overflowed from its tray onto the oven floor, cookies refused to keep their shape. These failed concoctions only made me want to try again. I scrubbed pots and pans for hours to persuade burned grime off the bottom. I learned patience and perseverance from cooking, and also how to effectively wash dishes.

Also, I am a person of sentiment. If I roll teddy bears out of sugar cookie dough, or sculpt a butter-cream sunflower onto a cupcake, I cannot bring myself to ruin its perfection by eating it. When a recipe is ruined, I dig a hole outside and give it a proper burial. Many trays of moldy cinnamon rolls have been laid to rest in our backyard. But I also believe that my tendency to overappreciate food has also helped me to appreciate things in life that most people take for granted, such as a warm place to sleep at night, and enough water to drink. I feel that I am lucky for having the resources to make my culinary creations.

Today, I am seventeen years old and still clumsy. I have not yet overcome my sentimental tendencies to fall in love with food. But I know that I have progressed from a level-teaspoon perfectionist to a carefree and imaginative cook who enjoys adding her own twist to traditional recipes and doesn’t care if the end result doesn’t look picture perfect. What I love most about cooking is that one keeps on learning, whether about Old World methods or discovering one’s own culinary style. There is no limit on what you can add to a recipe to make it truly your own.

The FIRST Robotics Chesapeake Regional Competition was a true Cinderella story for our team. Enduring 6 consecutive losses tested our team’s camaraderie, heart, and determination, a test from which we emerged victorious and became the Chesapeake Regional Champions.

The Chesapeake Regional victory was the culmination of 6 weeks of intense work -brainstorming, designing, manufacturing, and testing of a robot capable of meeting the year’s challenge.

The morning of the competition we left the school bright and early yet full of excitement about what the day had to offer us. Once we reached our destination we got ready for a long day of inspections, practice rounds, and refinements. Everything went fairly well that day. We were able to pass all inspections: electrical, mechanical, size, and weight. Despite a few drivetrain, electrical, and mechanical problems, our robot performed well during the practice rounds. The practice rounds not only gave us a chance to test our robot but also allowed me to acclimate myself to driving the robot for the first time. With some driving experience I was eager to compete in the qualifying rounds that would start the next day.

My eagerness of the previous day changed to frustration when we encountered an endless string of problems. A few of those problems were our own and were resolved quickly but most were out of our control such as alliance partner’s penalties and their lack of point contribution. Although the excessive number of alliance partner’s problems did upset us, we understood that they too were also trying their hardest. No matter what the problem was or how many times we lost, I kept a positive attitude and continued to drive my best. However, by the end of the day most of us were dejected and disappointed that we had not won even one of the five matches that day.
On the last day of the competition I arrived with a fresh new outlook. No matter what happens at the competition all I need to do is to drive my best, have fun, and know that building a robot is really about learning and not just winning. There were two qualifying matches that day and we finally won the last one. I was very happy with the performance of our robot and my driving that morning. However, I was still disappointed that we not only ended the qualifying round with a 1 and 6 record but also that I could have presented my Science Fair project at the Regionals that day and quite possibly had won there. With elimination rounds starting soon our mentor wanted us to start packing up. All this time I was still clinging on to the hope that one of the top 10 seeded teams would notice our robot and my penalty-free driving and pick us as an alliance partner. Lucky for us the first and second seeded teams, who had devoted a lot of time to scouting out all the teams, did notice our robot’s outstanding performance and my penalty-free driving. Upon our acceptance of the alliance offer, we were ecstatic that we had another chance to prove our worth in the elimination rounds. Not only did we prove our worth but we also exceeded our expectations. During elimination rounds our alliance did not lose a single match and set a national high score. The feeling of being crowned the Chesapeake Regional Champions after losing 6 out of 7 qualifying matches was the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest during an unforgiving blizzard and ultimately reaching the top of the world.

Not only did I end the season with an immensely expanded knowledge of engineering but I also experienced first-hand the fruits of perseverance and teamwork, a lesson that I will apply to every endeavor I take on.

Although I have always known my mother to be a remarkable person, there has always been something that makes me dismiss what she says as wrong. Sometimes I will catch myself thinking, “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” I believe that the way she speaks, or perhaps the accent it is filtered through, is the cause of this preposterous thought. I used to see this as her flaw- the flaw that makes it hard for others to understand her. Until recently, I never truly understood how amazing my mother is. She immersed herself into a country that was not her own, learned to speak two languages fluently (with a few imperfections here and there), struggled with living in a completely new culture, and to top it all off, she had the courage to never quit. She had to teach herself English through her interactions with others. I never realized how amazing this was until I tried to do the same. It is here that Newton’s law begins to take shape.

In Santander, in the northern part of Spain, my friend Nicole and I decided to cook dinner for the host family we were staying with while studying abroad. This gesture was partly to thank them for the wonderful experience they had provided us with, but mostly because we absolutely hated Spanish food, and we were getting tired of feigning small appetites. So, we decided to go to Lupa, a popular market, and quickly pick up some things to make a really simple pasta primavera and a fruit salad. easy enough.

Most Spanish markets contain machines that produce small slips of paper, telling how much the selected produce will cost. Although this machine provided me with an assortment of labeled buttons, it was in Spanish. The situation had now become significantly more challenging. Unfortunately, in my ‘extensive’ studies of the Spanish language I must have forgotten to review the words for fruits, vegetables, and all other similar produce. If written in English this would have been a simple task, but not knowing the word for cherry.or melon.or red pepper.or basically anything specific, threw me into a position that I was not accustomed to. I stood there in front of the machine, a bag of broccoli in one hand, and my head in the other. Eventually, after a couple of awkward attempts at figuring it out myself, I asked the woman working the vegetable aisle for assistance in weighing everything.

To add to the day’s confusion, I later found myself lost in the supermarket holding a package of meat that said ‘pechuga de pollo.’ Okay, I thought.Pollo means chicken.all right.makes sense.but pechuga? My only option was to ask, “Perdón, que parte del pollo es esto?” in what I suddenly realized was a horrible accent and very likely incorrect grammar. With a slight laugh in her voice, she tried explaining it to me in Spanish, which was, at this rate, obviously not going to work out. So she was forced to pound on her chest with her fists. That’s when the charades made sense; she was saying chicken breast! Embarrassed, I managed to cough out a thank you and run to the tomato sauce aisle. This was a new low for me - I could not even recognize a chicken breast when it was staring me right in the face.

Once removed from this awkward situation, I realized that by embarrassing myself, I had been forced to communicate in a language that was not my own. I have heard my own mother mispronounce English words, saying, “high-eh-school” instead of “high school,” and I have rolled my eyes and laughed. I can now picture my mother having to immerse herself in a completely new language, not knowing all the right words to say, and at times feeling embarrassed, and completely alone.

My mother could have made it easier for herself by deciding to speak to me in Spanish, but instead she chose to speak with me in English. Her accent and her grammar may sometimes be incorrect, but at least she tries. This made me realize that just the simple act of trying was enough. Maybe I did not pronounce all the words correctly, and maybe there were many an imperfection here and there, but that was enough. Only through trial and error can one learn to better themselves, and I can honestly say that this incident has made me a better person.

“C-C-G-G-A-A-G-F-F-E-E-D-D-C”

The classic ABC’s song, played by the notes above, is not only the source of the alphabet but also the foundation of my passion for piano. I have been taking piano for over eight years and have been able to extend my piano literature from the simple ABC’s to the elaborate and grand Fur Elise. One could even say that piano is my forte. After years of determination, I have learned that the key to channeling all my emotions and thoughts into something remarkable is the magic that I can feel while whisking my fingers lightly upon those ivory keys.

It took me long years to distinguish between clamor and music. Every night I would leave the piano with books on the ground and a look of absolute frustration. Finally, after I spent hours glaring at those keys that seemed to dislike me so much, I hit the right note, and everything came together. The stem-like ovals spoke words to me. I began to feel a sudden urge to learn everything there was to know about the sensation taking place underneath my fingertips. I wanted people to not only see or feel my happiness but also to hear it. My fingers trembled but continued to read the notes like Braille on the piano. I skipped through the staccatos and jumped through the chords. From that point on, I have seen and felt music in everything I do. From the tap-tap-tap of heels on steps to the sounds of thunder, I am inspired to rip past thirty-second notes and chords igniting like wildfire.

With life rushing past with no time left to stop, piano has become a key point in my world. My mind’s contents are poured out as I become absorbed into the music. For light and happy, I stick with Chopin, while Beethoven is best for anger and vigor. I tell my story through the black and white keys - the portal to my mind like an unknown abyss. Sometimes I get goose-bumps and edgy, biting my lips and sitting on the edge of my seat, while slamming on the keys for The Storm. Or I close my eyes and graze the keys for The Raindrop. I even sing and dance to contemporary artists such as Coldplay and Pete Yorn. My fingers become my feet for dancing, my eyes for reading, and my heart for singing.

Piano has taught me more than just mastery of an instrumental skill: it has taught me to achieve a harmonious state of mind while becoming a virtuoso. For recitals and competitions, I practice vigorously, sometimes having flat days while others are sharp. There are many days where I go through imitation and repetition in a sequence of patterns. Then there are those days where the music comes to me. I become an original; I become an artist. I can make you waltz, cadence, or jazz. I feel like I’m on the right page, and I’ve finally hit the pivot chord. My “writer’s block” diminishes, and augmented inside of me is a renewed sense of melody. The letters of the piano are A-B-C-D-E-F-G. These are notes that started my passion.