Help with PS? Go nuts.
Posted: Wed Oct 10, 2012 1:24 pm
The woman did a double-take, her eyes as obvious and blue as the massive cape she was wearing. “You’re… Robert?”
I held out my hand. “I am. You’re Donna, I believe?”
She didn’t shake it. “You’re-- well. Really young.”
When you receive a letter in the mail notifying you that you’ll be losing your home to foreclosure in the next ninety days, and you attend the San Diego County Home Preservation Event in the hopes of discussing your options with a housing counselor, you don’t expect the housing counselor to be sixteen years old.
As we sat down at the table, our conversation progressed from my age to her foreclosure. Donna’s situation seemed hopeless. In ninety days, she, her toddler, and her two dogs would all be living out of their minivan. Finally, she stopped talking and began sobbing.
The word “foreclosure” doesn’t mean much, if anything, to someone who hasn’t experienced the reality of that word. My grandparents on both sides of my family have. My aunts, uncles, and even parents have. From the violent and threatening phone calls to the feeling of helplessness that comes with realizing you have enough money to feed either yourself or your children, “foreclosure” is a word that describes the slow, yet devastating process of losing one’s dignity.
For me, there was no shining moment when I realized I wanted to work in foreclosure prevention – rather, it was something I lived throughout my childhood. By age fifteen, I knew more about housing law than many of my friends’ adult parents. It was around this time I began volunteering at home preservation events in San Diego, California. At first my volunteer duties consisted of escorting attendees to their respective lenders, but as time progressed, I was tasked with identifying special foreclosure cases and handling them directly.
Towards the end of my junior year in high school, I was approached by U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) representatives who asked me to work under the agency’s newly-formed student volunteer program. A week after my 18th birthday, I was offered a full time job with HUD, where I worked full time throughout college, and now continue to work during my graduate studies.
The next step in my professional life is to solidify a long-term career in public interest law, and I believe attending law school can help me achieve exactly that. I look forward to participating in a legal aid/public interest clinic for low income and disadvantaged clients during my time in law school, and hope the skills I will acquire during law school will prepare me for serving America’s underprivileged population.
Right now it's about a page and a half double-spaced. Should I add in extra stuff about what I want to go to XYZ school specifically?
I held out my hand. “I am. You’re Donna, I believe?”
She didn’t shake it. “You’re-- well. Really young.”
When you receive a letter in the mail notifying you that you’ll be losing your home to foreclosure in the next ninety days, and you attend the San Diego County Home Preservation Event in the hopes of discussing your options with a housing counselor, you don’t expect the housing counselor to be sixteen years old.
As we sat down at the table, our conversation progressed from my age to her foreclosure. Donna’s situation seemed hopeless. In ninety days, she, her toddler, and her two dogs would all be living out of their minivan. Finally, she stopped talking and began sobbing.
The word “foreclosure” doesn’t mean much, if anything, to someone who hasn’t experienced the reality of that word. My grandparents on both sides of my family have. My aunts, uncles, and even parents have. From the violent and threatening phone calls to the feeling of helplessness that comes with realizing you have enough money to feed either yourself or your children, “foreclosure” is a word that describes the slow, yet devastating process of losing one’s dignity.
For me, there was no shining moment when I realized I wanted to work in foreclosure prevention – rather, it was something I lived throughout my childhood. By age fifteen, I knew more about housing law than many of my friends’ adult parents. It was around this time I began volunteering at home preservation events in San Diego, California. At first my volunteer duties consisted of escorting attendees to their respective lenders, but as time progressed, I was tasked with identifying special foreclosure cases and handling them directly.
Towards the end of my junior year in high school, I was approached by U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) representatives who asked me to work under the agency’s newly-formed student volunteer program. A week after my 18th birthday, I was offered a full time job with HUD, where I worked full time throughout college, and now continue to work during my graduate studies.
The next step in my professional life is to solidify a long-term career in public interest law, and I believe attending law school can help me achieve exactly that. I look forward to participating in a legal aid/public interest clinic for low income and disadvantaged clients during my time in law school, and hope the skills I will acquire during law school will prepare me for serving America’s underprivileged population.
Right now it's about a page and a half double-spaced. Should I add in extra stuff about what I want to go to XYZ school specifically?