Scholarship Essays for College Admissions

In my junior year of high school, my parents gave me terrible news: we were moving from our town in Indiana to Schaumburg, Illinois. I fought, begged, and pleaded with my parents in numerous attempts to stay in my hometown rather than move over seventy miles away to a different state. Still, nothing I did could change their minds, so Schaumburg became my new place of residence. To me, nothing good could come of moving to a different state, and I felt that it was a mistake from the start; however, over time, I saw where the real mistake lay.

I went into the trans-state move with a closed mind. To me, there was no place on Earth better than my hometown in Indiana. My lifelong friends were there and I was familiar and comfortable with my surroundings. I knew that I was going to hate Schaumburg, and I thought that if I constantly expressed my dislike for the town, my parents would realize that moving back to Indiana was imperative. So, for the first few months, I sulked. I whined and complained about everything at my new school. I made lots of friends right off but never wanted to hang out with them on weekends; instead, I would make the hour and a half drive back to my hometown to see my old friends. Instead of making an effort to hang out with new friends, I spent all of my time talking to old ones on the phone. I was completely unhappy and I knew something had to be done, or I would remain miserable in Schaumburg.

As time went on, I became more open-minded about my new area. I stopped driving to Indiana every weekend and instead made plans with new friends. Now I visit my old area about once every two months or so, and I’ve found that I can have friends in both Illinois and Indiana. In fact, the move to Schaumburg has made me more open to change than I ever was before. I see now that my mistake was being so negative about coming to a new area. Had I tried more at the beginning to befriend people, I probably could have had an easier transition. Through this mistake, I’ve discovered how much I love the town of Schaumburg and all of the new friends I’ve made. I’ve also discovered a great deal about myself: I am strong and resilient, and I can thrive in any area as long as I adjust myself to change. I’m thankful that I have taken so many lessons from this life-changing experience. Through this discovery, I have learned that I can adapt to changes in my life, even if the situation is beyond my control.

My Future Starts Here

There are hundreds upon hundreds of colleges in the world. So why do I choose to apply at the University of Central Florida? To put it simply, you offer the hospitality program in which I am interested in achieving.

Being involved with the Travel and Tourism Academy at Osceola High School (in Kissimmee, Florida), I am ultimately fascinated by the Rosen College of Hospitality Management. I have recently visited the campus and have admired it greatly. The scenery is beautiful and the architecture is perfect for its purpose. But what struck me the most was the benefits I have of attending there. I am a part-time Dual Enrolled student with Osceola High and Valencia Community College. With the classes and credits already honored in the past two years, it was amazing to hear that those hours will transfer over into enrollment at U.C.F. It is a great feeling to know that my previous preparation and dedication will be paid off and accepted at your school.
Another aspect of Rosen’s College that appeals to me is the class and PAID internship requirements during enrollment. I like the idea of taking many courses in various features of hospitality management. I believe that in doing so and registered with U.C.F., I can determine which aspect of work I would like to pursue in the hospitality community.
Entering college with proper prerequisites and experience in the hospitality and tourism field, there is no doubt that I will be an applicable student at your school.

Every year, thousands of children occupy their summer vacations by attending camps that support positive values or encourage skills. From baseball to bible camps, many people experience these week-long sessions during their upbringing. However, rarely does one continue to return to camp annually; most simply “outgrow” it.
I have attended a camp which I do not recall with nostalgia, but instead remember it as a reminder of central values that have stayed with me since my youth: teamwork, respect, responsibility, and leadership. I revisit Camp Anokijig each summer, but the remaining three hundred forty days of the year I am a thousand miles away from the Anokijig community. Whenever I feel stressed from my city-life, the memory of the Anokijig’s picturesque, serene setting provides me with a tranquility I have not encountered elsewhere. In moments of emotional maelstrom, the Anokijig theme song has helped me reaffirm my dreams and refocus my ambitions, “On the loose to climb a mountain, On the loose where I am free, On the loose to live my life The way I think my life should be. For I only have a moment, And the whole world is left to see, I will be looking for tomorrow on the loose.”

I am “on the loose” seeking educational opportunities, knowing that my steadfast ambition will lead to infinite options for my future. I am not directed towards a paved pathway; I will climb the mountain of risk with fortitude. My choices for adventure are wrapped in unparalleled freedom, providing me with countless choices on the hike towards my goal. I will reside in “The way I think my life should be” to ensure my own happiness and success. However, actions must be performed in the present because my only moment is now; time’s constant passing will be my shortfall unless I act upon my dreams. I am life bound yet “On the loose” because even when I am unmotivated and melancholy, this song raises my spirits and offers me hope for the future.

Not only do the lyrics motivate me, but the strong link to Camp Anokijig reminds me of the principals which have been stitched into my being since childhood. At camp, the people represent an ideal community: one instilled with trust, compassion, and harmony because everyone acts with consideration towards one another. I know that if I continue to act with the respect exemplified at Anokijig, I will be able to live a similar, peaceful life. I will meet each of my aspirations, and I will fulfill my dreams with integrity and reverence for the “whole world left to see”.

When I was younger, and I walked into a fast food restaurant, I would look at the workers with disgust. I would laugh to see that all they could accomplish was making Big Mac’s and taking orders. I felt sorry for them. That was before I worked at McDonalds. It seems that karma caught up with me when I worked at McDonalds for three and a half months.
In the summer, when I was applying for jobs, McDonalds would have been my last choice. I desperately wanted to work at a clothing store like the Gap or Old Navy. I was even less excited about working at McDonalds from my brother Kareem. My brother worked at McDonalds for over a year, and he always came home complaining about his managers and coworkers. He chose to work at the McDonalds that was almost three miles away, rather than working at the McDonalds around to corner. In his and my opinion, to work at Mickey D’s where everyone from the hood could see you would be humiliating.
I started working at the McDonalds around the corner from my house in August. It was my first job, so I went in with a lot of preconceived notions of how working would be. I thought that it would be easy, because only lazy, unmotivated people worked there. For me, it would just be a summer thing until I could get my job at the clothing store. I could have never been more wrong. My first day was a sunny August Monday. I was assigned to one of the easiest jobs- making drinks. As I looked on the screen I got so flustered and confused. There were so many orders up; I didn’t know where to start. There was no way I could do 5 medium cokes and run to the shake machine in time to make 3 chocolate sundaes. Needless to say, there floor ended up in a nasty brown mix of fudge and Coca-Cola. My manager gave me a tongue lashing, and by the time I went home I felt stupid, lazy and worthless.
I could never imagine working at McDonalds, of all places, would be so hard! There were always customers waiting to be served, always something to clean up or to stock. The long eight hour days felt like it would never end. The half an hour breaks I got only left me time to eat and sit for a few minutes. I wondered how my coworkers, especially the older ones, could break the backs working only to return the next day to break their backs again. I tried to emulate their positive attitudes and stubborn work ethic as much as I could.
As time went on, I learned to master many of the stations. I could be a cashier and take orders at front counter or drive-thru. I could drop fries and do mops and sweeps with the best of them. With every paycheck, I gained more and more pride and fondness for my job. With every paycheck, I felt surges of independence knowing that I was more independent and that my parents could be dependent on me. After that it wasn’t so bad anybody, and it wasn’t so humiliating. In fact, I felt better about myself than I ever have in my entire life.
I quit my job in the middle of November because I knew that school and college preparations were more important. That is not to say my working experience was a waste. I learned so many things from working my first job. I learned that almost every job is difficult, and all honest workers are to be respected. Instead of disgust, I look at my former coworkers with respect and admiration. With my first working experience behind me, I’m more appreciative of everyone who works, and I’m ready for bigger and better things.

“In a few minutes we’re going to go strategize in different rooms by affirmatives . Thad’s
Guantanamo Bay group, you’re in 445. Roy, take the Body Cavity Searches kids to 413. The National ID and Extraordinary Rendition people stay with me in 455.”
“Uhhh.” a stifled yelp.
“You and James just go out in the hall and work things out yourselves.”

The words of my burly lab leader Josh Hoe ring clear when I stumble out of the classroom, tripping over twenty or so odd power cords scattered like snakes waiting to bite my ankles. Once outside, I’m left wondering exactly what I am to do when my lab leaders refuse to strategize with me. James Mollison, my partner, and I plop down on the cement floor of the Dennison building frustrated at the inability of our coaches to understand our way of thinking.
Our project: at the University of Michigan 7-Week debate institute, James and I took an
affirmative about banning the state’s practice of extraordinary rendition and created a new form of debate with it. Instead of the conventional debate about whether the ban on the practice of outsourcing torture should come from the Supreme Court or Congress, our method was to use the work of the Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben to create in-round advocacy about the citizen’s relation to the state. Agamben’s contention is that victims of this U.S. policy are placed within a state of exception by the state apparatus: they are simultaneously both inside and outside the law. In the eyes of the law, they do not count, and therefore can be killed with impunity. Our affirmative’s thesis was that we are all in the same state of exception. Therefore, we need to productively resist state power to correct such future injustices. To do this, we endorsed Agamben’s alternative of “whatever being,” arguing that the only way to begin to form a coalition against bio-political practices of
the state is for citizens to create communities outside the state. Essentially, endorsing ourselves as subjects, creating groups in resistance to specific violent methods of the state.
Apparently, that is not kosher in the eyes of the debate community. Deviation from the norm of asking what the federal government should do in favor of asking what we should do as individuals is a break in debate tradition. At the exact moment I sat on the cold floor in Dennison, I understood how the culture of debate excludes anything that is not within its narrowly defined boundaries. While there is much talk of fairness and critiques of exclusionary practices within debate, the community I thought was supporting me rejected my attempt at bringing in new argumentation with calls of “cheater.” This fight became personal. Determination sank in and, Round One — I was out for blood.

“Extend the Gabel and Kennedy evidence: Engagement of fiat necessitates us to engage in sovereign politics - as per the Elden evidence, this means we’ll never have fairness because the sovereign constructs a hallucination of what fairness is.”

The response was incredible. What was argued against our endorsement of subjectivity was “torture good” and “dehumanization good” arguments. I felt alienated from the institution of debate: so intellectual, yet so closed-minded?
Every affirmative round at the tournament became a personal war against the dominant discourses of debate. Every speech, we gathered more ammo. Instead of AK47s and bombers, this war was fought with words and warrants. The carnage became the defeated negative team, as they struggled a “good job” after the round, eyes looking away.
The final battle was fought against two others from my lab group. The end came anticlimactically, as two of the three judges in the back of the room gave their decision in favor of the negative. The speed with which the decision was made led me to believe they had no remorse for siding with the easy way out. My eyes blazed with icy tears, and I looked over to James. His expression was self-assuredly aloof, which gave me courage to understand. It was not over.

As stress levels rise and my classmates scramble to write thought-provoking essays that scream “pick me! pick me!” I try to remain neutral about the situation, stoically knowing that if I am meant to be accepted, I will be accepted. With this point of view, as you read this, I know I seem to be far too carefree and even arrogant, but through years of anxiety and apprehension about the future, I have learned to take life as it comes and not worry myself into a coma, as I know many students around the country are doing. Although, with this phlegmatic state of mind, it may appear that I do not care about my education at all, but on the contrary it is my most significant concern.
As an active and avid learner, I take my education very seriously. I believe knowledge is one of the most powerful instruments a person can have. With knowledge and wisdom a person can learn and achieve anything that they deem necessary to withstand and flourish in life. As a believer in infinite knowledge and possibilities, I have attempted to challenge myself mentally and emotionally through school and learning about myself.
School has taught me to strive for a fruitful life and future. In taking honors and AP classes I believe I have extended my capacity for education. In these classes learning to know a topic, as opposed to memorizing words to be forgotten after a test, is my ultimate goal. With excellent teachers these courses have not only been an asset to my college preparation, but also a benefit to my well-being. I have learned an immeasurable amount about life and the importance of finding oneself through teachers, classes, and books.
I admit that school has been a burden, but through years of staying up late studying for tests and doing an endless amount of homework, I have acquired something more vital than good grades, I have received an understanding for what is most important in life. Life isn’t about trudging through subjects and jobs that you have no passion or determination for. It is about finding and implementing what your heart truly desires to do. Many students, and even you, as you read this, may disagree with me, saying that earning good grades and doing well on the SATs should be my main priorities. I do not completely disagree with this, because it is crucial to do these things to attain a successful life in the future, although I believe that discovering true passions and places in life is much more necessary.
To go through life believing in other’s goals and expectations is not a life. Although people may say that teenagers are impressionable and cannot decide what is best for them on their own, I completely disagree and feel that we, of all people on earth, have the ability to choose and make the right decisions. Teenagers are among the most susceptible to venture down the wrong paths, but we are also the most capable of achieving incredible goals and doing what was thought impossible in the past.
Therefore, ultimately, my contributions to the university will be that of a carefree scholar, one that isn’t afraid to express opinions that may jeopardize her future. I will also spread happiness to all, making it impossible for you to reject a person with such ability. I am a free spirit and I hope that being so is something that the university will take into consideration as far as personalities and interests go, if it isn’t, then I’ll go somewhere else.

The moonlight hung over Karachi. The air was devoured by spices. Saris were glistening, music was playing, people were laughing, and that’s when I saw them. At the corner table sat a small group of American men in blue and gray suits with luscious red and black ties. As they sipped their cold chai, they marveled at the extravagance of the wedding, talking quietly amongst themselves. I remember wondering what they were saying. Then, the music intensified and the young women began to twirl and gracefully lift their decorated hands toward the sky. They danced as though in a scene from a fairy tale. The beat of the drums moved faster than ever, and the sweet sound of flutes and sitars sharpened. The women had beautiful golden mendhi flower decorations imprinted upon their gentle hands, from their finger tips down their palms, each lotus blossoming out of another. My focus shifted towards them, but only temporarily. I glanced back at the Americans and saw one of them drop his jaw
the same way a hawk catches its prey: quickly. I couldn’t believe it. Why was he shocked? Before that very moment, I had never realized what little familiarity the West had with the East.
When I look back at this event, I see myself as a prisoner enduring life within a dark cell. I had been warped into believing that everyone knew what I knew, and that everyone learned pretty much the same things. I was wrong. The moment I saw that American’s ghostly expression, I felt embarrassed. Why hadn’t I realized that each household held within it its own world? I was the ignorant one.
When I returned to the United States, I flipped through my history textbook searching for answers, looking for a clear sign of the East. Unfortunately, all I found was a small chapter on India’s Mughal rule. Hinduism wasn’t even mentioned, nor was there anything about India’s culture. The words just sat there: They meant nothing. No longer embarrassed, I was now immensely puzzled. I knew from speaking with my grandmother in Pakistan that she had a clear understanding of life in the United States and even knew of its history; she knew Thomas Jefferson had written the Declaration of Independence. I also knew that when my mother was a child in Pakistan, she had been obliged to learn European history. The East most definitely met the West, but did the West ever really meet the East? I recall being lectured on Islam in school. It was truly a ridiculous experience. To a class of thirty fidgeting seventh-graders, our teacher introduced a chapter consumed by wars and mention of few
people, but there wasn’t really anything about what Islam stood for other than that the word meant “peace.” Although our teacher brought in outside sources, I never felt that my fellow students really understood anything aside from a vague history of a man who walked through the desert gathering followers and sitting in caves. Would they remember the name Muhammad? Did these seventh-graders really learn anything? Did they see what I saw?
From their blindness, I learned perspective. I gradually came to accept that everyone develops different views and biases. I still, to this day, wonder what that American thought: What did he see? Could he see the East, the mystical Orient, or was he confined within his own world?

I can smell the excitement in the air as I wake up, for it is Saturday. No matter what kind of a day I have, there is one thing waiting for me at ten thirty. As I turn on the television, my heart races; I anticipate the host I have been waiting to see all week. The first skit is over, and I hear the best eight word phrase ever invented, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night Live!” By this time I can barely sit still in my seat. Five minute commercials seem like an eternity of eagerness and sheer boredom. This is where I want to be.
As high school began, my self-assurance grew. Switching from a private catholic grade school to a public high school was a big change. Larger classes, more faces, different rules, and numerous activities swirled around me. I was sitting in third hour when the announcement came over the intercom, “There will be a drama club meeting after school in room 110.” A large sigh of relief came from the bottom of my lungs. I relaxed in my satisfaction. I found what I had been looking for.
The meeting was full of upperclassmen with years of experience under their belts. For some strange reason, this did not overwhelm me. I felt at ease and quite welcomed. Then I saw her for the first time; there at the head of the classroom stood the most intimidating woman I have met in my life. This five foot two inch, solemn theatre alumni had a set of lungs like an opera singer. “My name is Ms. Cantine,” she belted. In all my seventeen years of life, this was the first time I ducked to hide under my desk.
My love for Ms. Cantine grew as years went by. It took her a full year to consider me important enough to learn my name, and when she finally did, I felt accepted into her world of mystifying theatrics. I was ready to learn all she could teach me. As my junior year approached, I was getting ready for the variety show in the fall. I took the Drama class she taught that first semester. We grew to be friends as myself, and some fellow actors, started calling her Scantine (a combo of Susan and Cantine). The variety show went astoundingly well. My friend Gabe and I did a spin-off of the Spartan Cheerleaders from SNL, and Kate and I did a skit featuring ourselves as singing old ladies from Minnesota advocating drug awareness. Then something remarkable happened; we made Ms. Cantine laugh.
After the variety show wrapped up, it was speech contest season. I took part in a one act play called “Fortress.” It was the first serious role I had to play. I was always used to being the comic. I used what I learned from her class as we took our one act to all-state the following January. People came up to me after the play telling me how they had bawled their eyes out. Seeing audience members crying as they left the theatre gave me the reassurance I needed to strive for my goals.
The end of the year was approaching when I heard the most shocking announcement of my high school career. Ms. Cantine was to officially retire; this was her last month at school. I knew she had contemplated it, but I never in my wildest dreams imagined it happening. I cried that night as I thought about how my senior year would play out without her there to guide me.
Through my sadness I was tranquil. I knew she had given me the tools I needed to truly succeed under the bright lights. Now every time I turn on the television to NBC at ten thirty on a Saturday night I can feel her sitting there beside me, nodding in pure sanction. This is where I belong.

Of the hundreds of people a young girl meets in her first eighteen years, only a small number of them truly make a difference in her life. If the girl is lucky, more of these people influence her positively instead of negatively. I am one of those lucky girls; I have been impacted by many wonderful people thus far in my journey through life. Without them, I know my life would be not as near as rich, as meaningful, or as full of potential as it is now. I am so excited to live my life, to do something new and different, and to be one of those people who make a difference in the lives’ of others. I credit part of my vivacity to my relationship with Trent Zuehsow, who has influenced me more than he will ever know.
I knew Trent from Camp Lutherhaven, a Christian summer camp. To us, it was no coincidence that we saw each other there three summers in a row; God intended us to build a friendship over our shared faith in Him. Trent was 16 and so cool, especially in the eyes of the giggly 12-year-old girl that I was. While he was older than me, we developed a friendship that continued outside of camp through e-mail and instant messaging. Once he started college, we did not talk as often as I would have liked, but it only made me treasure our conversations even more.
Talking to Trent was like talking to the older brother I never had. He was incredibly funny and smart. At times we would talk about serious issues, too, such as life, the future, and the world. He honestly valued my opinion and made me feel like I had something worth saying. He gave me advice about growing up and showed me the world outside of my little bubble. I cannot express how much he meant to me.
On February 8, 2003, Trent died. A drunk driver drove on the wrong side of the road and hit him. He was only 19 years old. I was devastated. It was hard for me to talk about it because no one could understand. Sure, I only talked to Trent occasionally, but he was important to me, and I loved him. A lot of people could not understand that.
Looking back, I know what attracted me so much to Trent. He had the special ability to make everyone feel important. Talking to him, you felt like you were the only person in the world that mattered at that moment. I sometimes wonder about the people who were around him all the time. If he could be so genuine in our occasional conversations, what was he like with his family and close friends? How did they feel after talking to him? Did they appreciate him like I did? Do they still miss him as much as I do?
Sometimes I get angry that such an amazing young man had to leave this world so soon. But then I realize that I can make his death worthwhile. By living with the same spirit, love, and faith that Trent had, I can hope to pass along those traits to someone else. I truly am one of those lucky girls, because Trent gave me a wonderful gift: the gift of real life. I cannot think of a way to better influence a person’s life.

Lemonade.$0.25. Cups.$1.00. A wobbly table.$14.99. Buying out the neighbor’s lemonade business.priceless. Even as a child, I always thought of going into the high-paced world of business. Whether selling lemonade on my driveway or convincing neighbors to buy magazines, I always gave my earnest effort.

When people think of business, they think of making money. However this is not only the case. Seeing one’s product or service aiding someone else is most rewarding. Boeing airplanes make the world smaller to travel and Google finds information in a click. Today, soldiers and doctors are not the only ones making a great impact on society; business men and women are too.

I believe that to have a successful business means one must communicate with the people of the world. Being that I am a Chinese American, I have traveled to China many times. Traveling to the busy streets of Beijing and to the booming city of Zhengzhou, I have acknowledged and experienced the different culture. Along with going to school, I also have been learning to speak, write, and read Chinese. My ability to understand English and Chinese has given me the idea to go into international business.

Business activities of all kinds are appearing everywhere: from the southeast bay of Italy to the shores of Australia. Whether it is selling lemonade around the countries or doing business between countries, my goal as a business woman is to join forces with people all over the world to make a difference. Cooperation with one another will ultimately lead to better businesses and most importantly, prosperity for the citizens of the world.