Small Town, Big Family Diversity Statement
Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 2:20 am
I'm thinking of going complete at Duke with this ballsy one-pager as my ONLY statement in the next few days in hopes that a Priority Track acceptance will calm my nerves enough to get my unrelated personal statement finished and applications submitted to other schools.
My numbers are solid for Duke, so I'll less interested in commentary on this unorthodox strategy than I am in your comments on how I can tweak this to be an effective diversity statement for the rest of the T14.
I am the eldest of the nine surviving children of an ex-con turned road construction worker and a homemaker whose last formal employment was a cashiering gig in ‘85. The first eighteen years of my life unfolded in a small house with a big yard in a tiny town where beat-up pickup trucks far outnumber BMWs, camouflage doubles as church clothes, and “redneck” is tossed around as a compliment, not a slur. More of my hometown peers have gone to Iraq or to jail than to graduate school, and at our five year reunion, more of my high school classmates had babies or wedding rings than had four-year degrees. The only two major thoroughfares in no-stoplight [Hometown] intersect at right angles and diverge in every cardinal direction, but I knew by the time I could drive that neither of them could take me to anywhere I wanted to go.
I will never regret fleeing the place I was born, but I could never rue the circumstances of my birth. For the fact that my resume and transcripts do not betray my humble roots, I credit my parents. When there are ten hungry mouths to one blue collar paycheck, mere survival is a task more demanding than any white collar job, and this precarious reality precluded for my mother and father everything from friends to hobbies to notions of personal career fulfillment. [John and Jane Doe] were too busy making ends meet to serve as role models for the path I’ve chosen, but taught me by example everything I needed to know about tenacity, honest hard work, and prioritizing the things that really matter in life. Guided by a deep faith that I respect but do not share (yes, that one), Mom and Dad subordinated their personal dreams and ambitions to the supreme feat of giving the next generation the opportunities they never had.
Seizing those opportunities is the only way I could ever do justice to my parents’ sacrifices, and in strictly quantifiable terms, I have perhaps already succeeded in this. By the time I was 22--my mother’s age when she married and brought me into this world--I’d earned my family’s first bachelor’s degree and was bringing home larger paychecks than my father’s. I have already accomplished more than what society, statistics, and even fellow students might expect from someone of my pedigree, but I am not content to have my achievements described in relation to the obstacles I have overcome. To become the best lawyer ever born in northern [Bumfuck] County or to put up a good showing in the [Doe] clan’s first grad school go-around will not suffice: I come to law school in pursuit of absolute and unqualified excellence by Duke’s standards, not [Hometown's].
My numbers are solid for Duke, so I'll less interested in commentary on this unorthodox strategy than I am in your comments on how I can tweak this to be an effective diversity statement for the rest of the T14.
I am the eldest of the nine surviving children of an ex-con turned road construction worker and a homemaker whose last formal employment was a cashiering gig in ‘85. The first eighteen years of my life unfolded in a small house with a big yard in a tiny town where beat-up pickup trucks far outnumber BMWs, camouflage doubles as church clothes, and “redneck” is tossed around as a compliment, not a slur. More of my hometown peers have gone to Iraq or to jail than to graduate school, and at our five year reunion, more of my high school classmates had babies or wedding rings than had four-year degrees. The only two major thoroughfares in no-stoplight [Hometown] intersect at right angles and diverge in every cardinal direction, but I knew by the time I could drive that neither of them could take me to anywhere I wanted to go.
I will never regret fleeing the place I was born, but I could never rue the circumstances of my birth. For the fact that my resume and transcripts do not betray my humble roots, I credit my parents. When there are ten hungry mouths to one blue collar paycheck, mere survival is a task more demanding than any white collar job, and this precarious reality precluded for my mother and father everything from friends to hobbies to notions of personal career fulfillment. [John and Jane Doe] were too busy making ends meet to serve as role models for the path I’ve chosen, but taught me by example everything I needed to know about tenacity, honest hard work, and prioritizing the things that really matter in life. Guided by a deep faith that I respect but do not share (yes, that one), Mom and Dad subordinated their personal dreams and ambitions to the supreme feat of giving the next generation the opportunities they never had.
Seizing those opportunities is the only way I could ever do justice to my parents’ sacrifices, and in strictly quantifiable terms, I have perhaps already succeeded in this. By the time I was 22--my mother’s age when she married and brought me into this world--I’d earned my family’s first bachelor’s degree and was bringing home larger paychecks than my father’s. I have already accomplished more than what society, statistics, and even fellow students might expect from someone of my pedigree, but I am not content to have my achievements described in relation to the obstacles I have overcome. To become the best lawyer ever born in northern [Bumfuck] County or to put up a good showing in the [Doe] clan’s first grad school go-around will not suffice: I come to law school in pursuit of absolute and unqualified excellence by Duke’s standards, not [Hometown's].