Draft 1- Thoughts?
Posted: Tue Aug 06, 2013 11:57 pm
As a political science major and British literature minor, I don’t care much for numbers; I prefer powerful words and actions. Numbers represent our tangible qualities. They serve as comparative tools, distinguishing one from another in our extremely competitive culture. We use numbers to determine which sports team has won a game, how wealthy individuals, corporations or nations are, and of course, how capable a student may be to succeed in law school. However, numbers cannot determine the intangible qualities each individual has. They cannot distinguish whether a sports team won the game based on skill or work ethic, whether money is inherited or earned, or why or how a student will or will not succeed in law school. Our potential can be hypothetically derived through numbers, but reaching our potential is based on motivation, desire and choices, not on how many answers we are able to correctly bubble in over the course of a four hour test. Work ethic, selflessness and determination cannot be explained on a scale of zero to four or 120 to 180. Although the numbers suggest I am capable of succeeding in law school, they do not define me. They are not who I am. I am the intangibles left unexplained by the numbers.
A strong work ethic and sense of selflessness have been engrained in me by my father, a Flint, Michigan man who has worked in a General Motors plant since he was nineteen years old. After receiving a pay cut of nearly thirty percent, my father gritted his teeth and took a second job in food service to support the family. He never complained, never sulked, and never admitted defeat in his tough economic surroundings, silently teaching me that hard work, selflessness, and relentless determination are more important traits to have than gaudy numbers in my bank account or on the LSAT.
Throughout the three years I have attended the University of Michigan-Flint, I have taken my father’s lessons to heart. I have worked as hard as possible, in the classroom, workplace and extra-curricular activities. I will be graduating college after only three years with high honors because I have strived to take as many credits as possible while maintaining a certain level of excellence. While my academic record speaks for itself, it does not detail what I have worked through in order to achieve the grades I have.
Although I am only twenty years old, I have a great deal of work experience, having held at least two, and often three, jobs at a time during the entire three years of my undergraduate work; I have worked maintenance in an ice rink, security at the university, set-up for and managed events and conferences on campus, facilitated a freshman seminar focusing on diversity and dialogue between opposing groups, and interned for a legal services clinic. Additionally, I have played hockey each year, first in a junior hockey league and secondly with the university club team. In each scenario, I was expected to practice two or three nights a week and play two or three games a weekend, often traveling out of state for weekend trips. In essence, hockey has been yet another job for me throughout college, albeit a recreational and enjoyable one. Also, for the past two years, I have served as the president of the College Republicans, working diligently with the College Democrats to create a more cooperative, peaceful and understanding political environment on campus by holding public dialogues rather than debates. I have not simply sat in my dorm room and studied for three years; in fact, that may be the only thing I have not done enough of.
At times, the desire to push myself has placed me in situations where I have been unable to succeed in every task I have undertaken. Specifically, in the fall semester of 2012, I attempted what was, for me, impossible. For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to take twenty credits while working three jobs, playing club hockey, and become the president-elect of the College Republicans. When it came to the end of the semester, I simply had too much work and too little time. I was unable to complete the final project for one of my classes, and I received a grade of “Not Complete,” which appears as an “F” in my transcript summary. While failure is never optimal, I learned an important lesson: I am not invincible, I have limits, and sleep is less overrated than I realized. Despite the disappointment I had in myself, I am glad, in retrospect, that I now know where my boundaries lie, because now I can avoid going beyond those boundaries again.
Numbers fade, but our internal makeup remains. Ten years from now, no one will care what my LSAT score or undergraduate grade point average were. My bosses will care if I am competent and hard-working, my clients will care if I am capable and willing to help them, and my family will care if I am able to support them, but the all-important law school admissions numbers will be useless. I hope that as my numbers decrease in value, my character will remain strong, and that throughout law school and my career, I will be able to serve my community with an impassioned work ethic, relentless determination, and the desire to put others before myself, just as my father taught me.
A strong work ethic and sense of selflessness have been engrained in me by my father, a Flint, Michigan man who has worked in a General Motors plant since he was nineteen years old. After receiving a pay cut of nearly thirty percent, my father gritted his teeth and took a second job in food service to support the family. He never complained, never sulked, and never admitted defeat in his tough economic surroundings, silently teaching me that hard work, selflessness, and relentless determination are more important traits to have than gaudy numbers in my bank account or on the LSAT.
Throughout the three years I have attended the University of Michigan-Flint, I have taken my father’s lessons to heart. I have worked as hard as possible, in the classroom, workplace and extra-curricular activities. I will be graduating college after only three years with high honors because I have strived to take as many credits as possible while maintaining a certain level of excellence. While my academic record speaks for itself, it does not detail what I have worked through in order to achieve the grades I have.
Although I am only twenty years old, I have a great deal of work experience, having held at least two, and often three, jobs at a time during the entire three years of my undergraduate work; I have worked maintenance in an ice rink, security at the university, set-up for and managed events and conferences on campus, facilitated a freshman seminar focusing on diversity and dialogue between opposing groups, and interned for a legal services clinic. Additionally, I have played hockey each year, first in a junior hockey league and secondly with the university club team. In each scenario, I was expected to practice two or three nights a week and play two or three games a weekend, often traveling out of state for weekend trips. In essence, hockey has been yet another job for me throughout college, albeit a recreational and enjoyable one. Also, for the past two years, I have served as the president of the College Republicans, working diligently with the College Democrats to create a more cooperative, peaceful and understanding political environment on campus by holding public dialogues rather than debates. I have not simply sat in my dorm room and studied for three years; in fact, that may be the only thing I have not done enough of.
At times, the desire to push myself has placed me in situations where I have been unable to succeed in every task I have undertaken. Specifically, in the fall semester of 2012, I attempted what was, for me, impossible. For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to take twenty credits while working three jobs, playing club hockey, and become the president-elect of the College Republicans. When it came to the end of the semester, I simply had too much work and too little time. I was unable to complete the final project for one of my classes, and I received a grade of “Not Complete,” which appears as an “F” in my transcript summary. While failure is never optimal, I learned an important lesson: I am not invincible, I have limits, and sleep is less overrated than I realized. Despite the disappointment I had in myself, I am glad, in retrospect, that I now know where my boundaries lie, because now I can avoid going beyond those boundaries again.
Numbers fade, but our internal makeup remains. Ten years from now, no one will care what my LSAT score or undergraduate grade point average were. My bosses will care if I am competent and hard-working, my clients will care if I am capable and willing to help them, and my family will care if I am able to support them, but the all-important law school admissions numbers will be useless. I hope that as my numbers decrease in value, my character will remain strong, and that throughout law school and my career, I will be able to serve my community with an impassioned work ethic, relentless determination, and the desire to put others before myself, just as my father taught me.