172/3.8 Personal Statement - Comments welcome
Posted: Thu Sep 13, 2012 5:33 pm
The statement's vocal point used to be my volunteer work with North Koreans defectors, but it ended up talking too much about them and giving tons of background information to make it comprehensible to someone who isn't familiar with the situation. I've tried to shift the focus more onto myself in this version, but I feel like it doesn't carry the same amount of substance.
Also, the law school advisor at my university was dead set on making me write a concrete reason for why I'm attending law school, but I was under the impression that most schools don't want to hear that. Thoughts?
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After studying German, Russian, and Latin in high school, I knew I wanted to pursue a new language in college. A serendipitous decision led me to study Chinese, and I quickly fell in love with it. It was totally unlike anything I had ever seen or heard before, and I relished the challenge. My passion grew, and I resolved that I would put forth all of my effort to become fluent by the time I graduated. This led to the biggest challenge of my college career: a year abroad in China.
Life at first was tough. My orientation consisted of a secretary from the office buying me lunch and chatting as best we could with my limited Chinese. I had come alone and knew nobody for 6000 miles. I felt the pressure of my isolation when I woke up around four on my first morning. I went for a walk alone through the empty streets as the sun crested the horizon and couldn’t help but think, “Where am I, and what am I doing here?”
After classes began things got better. None of my classmates spoke English, but we had childlike conversations with our budding speaking skills. I met some Koreans who helped me buy a cell phone and a Russian who showed me around town. I was feeling less and less isolated, but the irony was that although I was speaking plenty of Chinese with the international students, I still had yet to meet any of the Chinese students.
The international students were cloistered off in a separate building that served not only as a dormitory but also housed our classrooms. There were no organized programs for integrating with the university students, and so I worked my way into everything from English discussion clubs to badminton tournaments by hunting for friends on campus. By the end of the third month I was texting non-stop in Chinese to my new acquaintances, but it would be a little while longer before I could remember how to pronounce the characters in their names, let alone which names belonged to who.
One of the oddest things about living in China was meeting North Koreans. There they were, the suited henchmen of the hermit kingdom, always proudly bearing a pin of Kim Il Sung on their lapels. Previously, I had only thought of North Korea as a semi-mythical land full of opulent party officials and starving underlings as it is so often portrayed. To see these party men in the flesh, and to have a casual conversation with them no less, was surreal. Even stranger was the amicable manner in which they addressed the South Korean students. I wanted explanations, and so I resolved that my next expatriate experience would be in South Korea.
“I can tell you the entire life story of Kim Il Sung, but I don’t know where Rome is!”
XX often made quips like this while we took a break to sip on the instant coffee that populates every South Korean conference room. The statements are a reminder of the physiological scars she carries with her, yet we had to laugh at their absurdity all the same. From her appearance alone nobody can tell, but XX is a North Korean defector.
I was eager to volunteer with North Korean defectors after I finally arrived in South Korea. I had already met the faces of the party and had come to understand that they were not the “real” North Koreans: they were the exceptions to the rule. XX was a real North Korean.
During our weekly English discussions XX and I evolved beyond the student-teacher relationship. She is now a dear friend, and I have learned from her far more than I could ever teach her. Living abroad I learned a tremendous amount about language and culture, but I also discovered how difficult it is to be alone in a strange new world. I am proud of how well I adapted; however, XX made me realize that the real challenge in living in another country is faced by those who cannot return home.
As I continue to travel through life and around the world, I no longer want to focus first on whom I can meet and what can I learn from them. After meeting XX, I would prefer to begin by thinking of what I know and how I can use my knowledge to help others. This is how I will approach life throughout the course of my legal education, and no matter where that education may take me I will remain dedicated to this maxim.
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Thanks for reading!
Also, the law school advisor at my university was dead set on making me write a concrete reason for why I'm attending law school, but I was under the impression that most schools don't want to hear that. Thoughts?
-------------------------
After studying German, Russian, and Latin in high school, I knew I wanted to pursue a new language in college. A serendipitous decision led me to study Chinese, and I quickly fell in love with it. It was totally unlike anything I had ever seen or heard before, and I relished the challenge. My passion grew, and I resolved that I would put forth all of my effort to become fluent by the time I graduated. This led to the biggest challenge of my college career: a year abroad in China.
Life at first was tough. My orientation consisted of a secretary from the office buying me lunch and chatting as best we could with my limited Chinese. I had come alone and knew nobody for 6000 miles. I felt the pressure of my isolation when I woke up around four on my first morning. I went for a walk alone through the empty streets as the sun crested the horizon and couldn’t help but think, “Where am I, and what am I doing here?”
After classes began things got better. None of my classmates spoke English, but we had childlike conversations with our budding speaking skills. I met some Koreans who helped me buy a cell phone and a Russian who showed me around town. I was feeling less and less isolated, but the irony was that although I was speaking plenty of Chinese with the international students, I still had yet to meet any of the Chinese students.
The international students were cloistered off in a separate building that served not only as a dormitory but also housed our classrooms. There were no organized programs for integrating with the university students, and so I worked my way into everything from English discussion clubs to badminton tournaments by hunting for friends on campus. By the end of the third month I was texting non-stop in Chinese to my new acquaintances, but it would be a little while longer before I could remember how to pronounce the characters in their names, let alone which names belonged to who.
One of the oddest things about living in China was meeting North Koreans. There they were, the suited henchmen of the hermit kingdom, always proudly bearing a pin of Kim Il Sung on their lapels. Previously, I had only thought of North Korea as a semi-mythical land full of opulent party officials and starving underlings as it is so often portrayed. To see these party men in the flesh, and to have a casual conversation with them no less, was surreal. Even stranger was the amicable manner in which they addressed the South Korean students. I wanted explanations, and so I resolved that my next expatriate experience would be in South Korea.
“I can tell you the entire life story of Kim Il Sung, but I don’t know where Rome is!”
XX often made quips like this while we took a break to sip on the instant coffee that populates every South Korean conference room. The statements are a reminder of the physiological scars she carries with her, yet we had to laugh at their absurdity all the same. From her appearance alone nobody can tell, but XX is a North Korean defector.
I was eager to volunteer with North Korean defectors after I finally arrived in South Korea. I had already met the faces of the party and had come to understand that they were not the “real” North Koreans: they were the exceptions to the rule. XX was a real North Korean.
During our weekly English discussions XX and I evolved beyond the student-teacher relationship. She is now a dear friend, and I have learned from her far more than I could ever teach her. Living abroad I learned a tremendous amount about language and culture, but I also discovered how difficult it is to be alone in a strange new world. I am proud of how well I adapted; however, XX made me realize that the real challenge in living in another country is faced by those who cannot return home.
As I continue to travel through life and around the world, I no longer want to focus first on whom I can meet and what can I learn from them. After meeting XX, I would prefer to begin by thinking of what I know and how I can use my knowledge to help others. This is how I will approach life throughout the course of my legal education, and no matter where that education may take me I will remain dedicated to this maxim.
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Thanks for reading!