Please critique my PS - is it too religious? Forum

[Anonymous User]

Brutally honest critiques of my rough draft would be much appreciated! Thank you in advance.

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I am the byproduct of a comfortable, upper-middle class upbringing in the American suburbs, but my father grew up as a half-starving child selling fruits on the street in post-Korean War Korea. I push my students to pursue the American dream, but see American society failing them on a daily basis. I celebrated my recent naturalization with students whose parents are largely undocumented. Such contrasts have been a major template of my recent history.

It was February 2012: I had found myself in a silent retreat at a Benedictine monastery in the idyllic English countryside, increasingly convinced that my life’s calling was to give everything up and to become a monk. The dichotomy between my privileges and the lack of it on the part of those around me had become too jarring. My parents had been the ones who had sacrificed everything, yet I was the one living the fruits of their sacrifice by attending my dream college. The students I had met and taught in inner-city Milwaukee as a freshman seemed to have had everything taken away from them while I had been handed everything on a silver platter. Prancing around in my gown on the homeless-filled streets of Cambridge seemed to run contrary to all of the values that I was supposed to hold as a self-professed Catholic; I feared that my life had become a contradiction. “The last will be first, and the first will be last.” These were words which haunted me as a spoiled young man who had received so much but had given so little. The green meadows surrounding the monastery, juxtaposed with liturgy and birdsong, contrasted my insecurities with its natural coherence and quiet but compelling confidence.

Yet reading the lives of Catholicism’s great monastic saints amidst the silence of the retreat revealed a disturbing divergence of motivations. St. Bruno had sought monasticism to serve the human race through a lifetime of silent prayer; I sought it simply as an escape from self-guilt. St. Dominic had seen mendicant life as a means of intensifying one’s gifts for the service of others; I saw it as a means to throw them away for the sake of self-justification. An old priest thought as much and suggested that I spend at least a few years after graduation “actually being useful to others” before considering the vocation again. I was handed a copy of St. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises – a formative book containing a philosophy which has since reset my perspective. Magis – Latin for “more” – captures the Ignatian ethos which emphasizes the constant struggle to expand one’s capacity to serve neighbor and the common good. Rather than seeing one’s privileges and talents as tools for the ego, magis insists that they be seen as instruments of service loaned for such a purpose which are to be constantly expanded upon. I had no right to be guilty for my privileges, as they never belonged to me.

After graduating from college, I followed magis to inner-city Dallas as a high school teacher. Here, the gap of opportunity and privilege has become even more painfully apparent. Each day in my classroom, I see tremendously talented students being suffocated by conditions, such as rampant gang-life and a distressing poverty of hope, which would discourage even the most talented student. Yet to use my gifts to become a positive influence in my students’ lives has been a humbling privilege. Watching my students’ faces light up with pride when they learned that their test scores had beat out those of some of the best magnet schools in the state – a moment in which they glimpsed their innate potential and dignity – has been etched permanently into my memory. Yet I am convinced that I need to do more. I am still tormented by memories of the brilliant senior who was accepted by Texas Tech University but could not pay the enrollment deposit; the bright freshman who got shot in our school’s own baseball field; the special education student who dropped out after feeling rejected by a callous system.

A legal education is a natural next step in my continued pursuit of magis. I see education law as a means of supporting emergent movements and reforms which function on a larger scale to open more just futures for students such as mine. Also of particular interest is litigation on behalf of special education students, who deserve far better than to be forced through administrative sieves which treat them as little more than the undesirable residue of a one-size approach to education. A clichéd but powerful Nelson Mandela quote adorns every worksheet given to my students: “education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world” – I want to join my students in further translating these words into praxis.

[Anonymous User]

Comments would be extremely appreciated! I would like to know before it is too late whether or not I should change the approach/topic of the PS.

[Anonymous User]

I'm very sorry for commenting again, but I'm really desperate for some feedback! Should I keep this topic/approach or should I change it? If the former, how can I improve it? Thanks in advance.

[ymmv]

A legal education is a natural next step in my continued pursuit of magis

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Just fucking no. Start again and pretend you are telling this story to someone you just met in a dive bar.

[oxie]

I don't think it's too religious, but I do think it needs some reworking. As ymmv hinted at, the language in a lot of places is pretty stilted and overly formal. I also think that using the first half of your essay to talk about what an undeserving person you thought you were really isn't the best use of space. I'd try to pick out a specific story from your time as a teacher or your religious experiences that highlights characteristics that you really like about yourself. I'd also try to avoid ending with a quote, especially one that you frame as cliched.