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horrorbusiness wrote:The year is 1991, and the setting is the visitation center of the Lompoc Federal Correctional Institution in southern California. I’m just four years old, and my mother is about to witness the end of my sweet naiveté about my father. The reality of the situation settles in my young mind for the first time, and hits me hard. I turn to my mother, eyes wide, and stammer out, “m-m-my dad is in jail?” I begin crying inconsolably before she can reply. Nothing makes my mother both laugh and cry like telling this story, and I believe nothing has shaped me and my interest in the law like the struggles of my parents and family before me.

My father was an illegal immigrant to the United States who got himself imprisoned, and later deported, just months after my birth. Because he was the sole breadwinner of our small family, and because of complications related to his imprisonment, my mother was left as a 40-year old single parent of two young boys without a home and without a job. I was born into what is probably the very nadir of our family’s course of history. From such a low point, however, things had nowhere to go but up. And up they went, albeit with no shortage of financial stress and struggle. My mother was able to get a caretaking job at a local hospital and a small place for us to rent, fully committed to raising my brother and I as well as she could on her own.

My brother and I took to schooling immediately. If we were to transcend our humble beginnings, as our mother was working so hard to allow us to, we had no choice but to exhaust all the opportunities given to us, especially the opportunity of succeeding in school. Fortunately, I took on what seem to be two family-wide inclinations: a natural affinity for language and a voracious appetite for reading.

horrorbusiness wrote:The year is 1991, and the setting is the visitation center of the Lompoc Federal Correctional Institution in southern California. I’m just four years old, and my mother is about to witness the end of my sweet naiveté about my father. The reality of the situation settles in my young mind for the first time, and hits me hard. I turn to my mother, eyes wide, and stammer out, “m-m-my dad is in jail?” I begin crying inconsolably before she can reply. Nothing makes my mother both laugh and cry like telling this story, and I believe nothing has shaped me and my interest in the law like the struggles of my parents and family before me.

My father was an illegal immigrant to the United States who got himself imprisoned, and later deported, just months after my birth. Because he was the sole breadwinner of our small family, and because of complications related to his imprisonment, my mother was left as a 40-year old single parent of two young boys without a home and without a job. I was born into what is probably the very nadir of our family’s course of history. From such a low point, however, things had nowhere to go but up. And up they went, albeit with no shortage of financial stress and struggle. My mother was able to get a caretaking job at a local hospital and a small place for us to rent, fully committed to raising my brother and I as well as she could on her own.

My brother and I took to schooling immediately. If we were to transcend our humble beginnings, as our mother was working so hard to allow us to, we had no choice but to exhaust all the opportunities given to us, especially the opportunity of succeeding in school. Fortunately, I took on what seem to be two family-wide inclinations: a natural affinity for language and a voracious appetite for reading. These inclinations naturally guided my decision in choosing my two majors of study in college: English literature and Philosophy. I put myself through college with loans, grants, and by working part-time, and still managed to I flourish in these two fields, especially in the latter. I was able to delight my family by not only becoming the first to graduate college, but also by receiving multiple Dean’s Honors List appointments and participating in many programs, clubs, and teams at my university.

It was while I was still an undergraduate, though, that a volunteer position I held at my university completely affirmed my decision to pursue law school. The legal career path was first suggested to me by an aptitude test in a community college career counseling class. I was not surprised by the suggestion, and it confirmed my long-time suspicion that my academic talents might be consonant with those required by the study of law. At this time, however, law was still just a consideration – I was also seriously considering graduate study in philosophy or literature, two fields in which professors told me I could really flourish.

In my second year at XXXXX I interviewed and was selected for a peer-mentor position to new transfer students. I was unable to see, at first, what a profound effect accepting the position would have on me. At the Transfer Student Center, it was my duty essentially to help new transfer students locate certain resources on campus, which could be anything from free tutoring to daycare for their children. During my two years of service, however, my position evolved from a sort of campus guide to an eager advocate and friend. I became completely committed to the position, and was more often than not helping students from disadvantaged or non-traditional backgrounds – people with which I oftentimes could strongly relate. I assisted single moms, first-generation college students, and 50-year old re-entry students all adapt to a university setting and made sure they were able to hit the ground running. Really, there was just one common thread between myself and these students: a desire for success so strong that it yields to no obstacle and gives credence to no perceived “disadvantage”.

The advocacy I offered during my tenure gave me but a taste of what I now know I want to do for the rest of my life. At the same time, I have cultivated my natural talents to read, write, and reason through a vigorous course of study. I am convinced that a meaningful synthesis of these elements demands my study of the law, which, in my view, uniquely affords me the opportunity to channel my greatest talents into something of greatest importance to me.

t was while I was still an undergraduate, though, that a volunteer position I held at my university completely affirmed my decision to pursue law school. The legal career path was first suggested to me by an aptitude test in a community college career counseling class. I was not surprised by the suggestion, and it confirmed my long-time suspicion that my academic talents might be consonant with those required by the study of law. At this time, however, law was still just a consideration – I was also seriously considering graduate study in philosophy or literature, two fields in which professors told me I could really flourish.

dj_spin wrote:

horrorbusiness wrote:The year is 1991, and the setting is the visitation center of the Lompoc Federal Correctional Institution in southern California. I’m just four years old, and my mother is about to witness the end of my sweet naiveté about my father. The reality of the situation settles in my young mind for the first time, and hits me hard. I turn to my mother, eyes wide, and stammer out, “m-m-my dad is in jail?” I begin crying inconsolably before she can reply. Nothing makes my mother both laugh and cry like telling this story, and I believe nothing has shaped me and my interest in the law like the struggles of my parents and family before me.

My father was an illegal immigrant to the United States who got himself imprisoned, and later deported, just months after my birth. Because he was the sole breadwinner of our small family, and because of complications related to his imprisonment, my mother was left as a 40-year old single parent of two young boys without a home and without a job. I was born into what is probably the very nadir of our family’s course of history. From such a low point, however, things had nowhere to go but up. And up they went, albeit with no shortage of financial stress and struggle. My mother was able to get a caretaking job at a local hospital and a small place for us to rent, fully committed to raising my brother and I as well as she could on her own.

My brother and I took to schooling immediately. If we were to transcend our humble beginnings, as our mother was working so hard to allow us to, we had no choice but to exhaust all the opportunities given to us, especially the opportunity of succeeding in school. Fortunately, I took on what seem to be two family-wide inclinations: a natural affinity for language and a voracious appetite for reading.

Up until this point, I really liked it a lot. It needs to be re-read in depth with a focus on rewriting for clarity, but I was genuinely taken with the story.

After this, your description of your accomplishments is too boring, and looks too much like you are struggling to fit things which are not especially important into a box of importance. Being the first to graduate from college is an actually important thing, especially the look in your mothers eyes that day after all those years of struggle (which are elided for some reason, in favor of peer mentoring which is neither significant nor interesting).

You must have something more about you, something in mind about the kind of lawyer you want to become, that says so much more about you than something we've already read off of your resume.

That's just my thoughts.

patrickd139 wrote:FWIW, I read "The year is 1991..." and all I could think of was JayZ.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwoM5fLITfk#t=0m55s

CanadianWolf wrote:Peer-mentoring should be viewed as an asset by law schools since the primary purpose of law school is to teach law students to teach themselves, and this is best learned by teaching others. The problem, however, with your paragraph on peer-mentoring is found in the last sentence after "...a desire for success...". If you conclude that paragraph with "a desire for success." it will be much stronger, in my opinion.