WebJul 29, · The personal statement, one of the most important parts of your law school application, is an opportunity to highlight your writing ability, your personality, and Estimated Reading Time: 4 mins WebThis is no small matter for a writing intensive profession such as the law. As Cornell Law School notes, personal statements are evaluated for “both content and construction, WebFeb 08, · A personal statement might: Demonstrate your personality and intellectual and emotional fit for the program Explain why you want to pursue a WebExcellent Law School Personal Statement Examples. May 5, Admissions. We’ve rounded up five spectacular personal statements that helped students with borderline Weblaw Personal Statement Advice. Your personal statement is the final step in your UCAS application and is arguably the most important. This gives a university the chance to see ... read more
There are some cultural norms and personality types that do not align with the idea of talking all the time just to be heard and seen, and that decades old system accidentally pushed them aside. A final example is the odd assumption by many people that military veterans have a limited set of skills, aligned to security or plant management. My interest in helping women, families, and the disadvantaged has been building over some years in relation to my own interactions with family courts as well. I am a woman who is successful in business and life, yet I know how intimidating dealing with a hostile lawyer and unknown legal process can be. I have seen what the result can be when a lawyer is not working as hard as they can or perhaps is just not as good as the other lawyer.
I cannot imagine being in the shoes of someone who does not have resources or is disenfranchised—an immigrant, a child, or someone who has been abused—and has to deal with the courts. I was frightened and confused inside the court room. I think they must be as well. I can easily have another career that spans decades, carry the wisdom of my personal experiences into it, and practice law with the primary goal of helping people. It would make sense for me to consider intellectual property law, given my current and previous roles in business, but what I really want to learn about and apply is family, youth, and social justice law.
The prompts for the personal statement suggest talking about overcoming obstacles. One final thing I want to share is that I grew up on a farm in western New York. We had cows, chickens, horses, and goats. We spent the last week of every August at the county fair. I competed for and won an ROTC scholarship that paid for my undergraduate degree at Boston University. In reviewing that transcript, which is twenty-six years old at this point, I can reflect on a girl who struggled there in the very first semester. This was not because the academics were too hard but because I was so taken in by the city and the diversity of people and the cosmopolitan feel of it.
I did not know how to handle being on my own and succeeding back in My course of study in applied mathematics was not an easy one, but it has served me well in my various technology leadership roles. I would be honored if you consider me for acceptance to New England Law Boston and look forward to the journey of studying and applying law. After you've read these law school personal statement examples, be sure to check out our personal statement tips for law school applicants. Blog In The News Social Media. In This Section. Home Blog.
That law is a service-driven vocation resonates with me. At the same time, I find myself wanting to understand more about how the case law has shaped the evolution and application of the laws, so that I may better help the clients—the scientists—protect their hard-earned discoveries. I believe that an education in law, beyond the intellectual property discipline, will help me to become a better patent practitioner and will help inform my decisions and strategy when assisting my clients. My graduate training as a scientist constantly challenged me to think critically and outside the box.
A good scientist never accepts information at face value; one must listen, analyze, ask questions, and then seek out the answers to formulate their own conclusions. During graduate school, we read papers and listened to presentations objectively, and with a healthy dose of skepticism. I was encouraged to look at the data within the figures to develop my own analysis and conclusions first, and then read the accompanying text to see if I arrived at the same conclusion as the author. This approach affords one the opportunity for a bit more scrutiny. I went into the public relations industry after completing my undergraduate degree in communications with the idea of one day being a marketing director for a major firm in a big city. The responsibilities and roles I have held along the way as a director include more than just creating graphics and advertising campaigns.
Public service and government have always been a strong passion of mine. Serving my community as an attorney in either the private or public sector, I plan to create a loyal and trusting bond with my clients, colleagues, and neighbors. However, it was a highly successful brainchild of my CEO and me as an effort to create an accessible venue for local produce in our notoriously food-insecure and obese community. We wanted to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. I hope to harness my critical abilities to reach beyond the pages of the books I love and make meaningful change in the real world.
The writer of this essay was admitted to her top choice—a T14 school—with a handwritten note from the dean that praised her personal statement. I had been with Mark the day before he passed, exactly one week before we were both set to move down to Tennessee to start our freshman year of college. I spent Christmas Day trying to act as normally as possible, hiding the news in order not to ruin the holiday for the rest of my family. This pattern of loss compounding loss affected me more than I ever thought it would. Eventually, I shut down emotionally and lost interest in the world—stopped attending social gatherings, stopped talking to anyone, and stopped going to many of my classes, as every day was a struggle to get out of bed. I had been interested in bodybuilding since high school, but during this time, the lowest period of my life, it changed from a simple hobby to a necessity and, quite possibly, a lifesaver.
The gym was the one place I could escape my own mind, where I could replace feelings of emptiness with the feeling of my heart pounding, lungs exploding, and blood flooding my muscles, where—with sweat pouring off my forehead and calloused palms clenched around cold steel—I could see clearly again. Not only did my workouts provide me with an outlet for all of my suppressed emotion, but they also became the one aspect of my life where I felt I was still in control. I knew that if it was Monday, no matter what else was going on, I was going to be working out my legs, and I knew exactly what exercises I was going to do, and how many repetitions I was going to perform, and how much weight I was going to use for each repetition.
I knew exactly when I would be eating and exactly how many grams of each food source I would ingest. I knew how many calories I would get from each of proteins, carbohydrates, and fats. My routine was one thing I could count on. As I loaded more plates onto the barbell, I grew stronger mentally as well. It was the healing I did there that left me ready to move on. One of the fundamental principles of weightlifting involves progressively overloading the muscles by taking them to complete failure, coming back, and performing past the point where you last failed, consistently making small increases over time.
The writer of this essay was accepted to many top law schools and matriculated at Columbia. My rapist was my eighth-grade boyfriend, who was already practicing with the high school football team. He assaulted me in his suburban house in New Jersey, while his mom cooked us dinner in the next room, in the back of an empty movie theatre, on the couch in my basement. It started when I was thirteen and so excited to have my first real boyfriend. He was a football player from a different school who had a pierced ear and played the guitar. I, a shy, slightly chubby girl with a bad haircut and very few friends, felt wanted, needed, and possibly loved.
The abuse—the verbal and physical harassment that eventually turned sexual—was just something that happened in grown-up relationships. This is what good girlfriends do, I thought. They say yes. Never having had a sex-ed class in my life, it took me several months after my eighth-grade graduation and my entry into high school to realize the full extent of what he did to me. This was something that happened in a Lifetime movie, not in a small town in New Jersey in his childhood twin bed. As I grew older, I was confronted by the fact that rape is not a surreal misfortune or a Lifetime movie. Rape is real. I am beyond tired of the silence. It took me three years to talk about what happened to me, to come clean to my peers and become a model of what it means to speak about something that society tells you not to speak about.
I trained to staff a peer-to-peer emergency hotline for survivors of sexual assault. This past summer, I traveled to a country notorious for sexual violence and helped lay the groundwork for a health center that will allow women to receive maternal care, mental health counseling, and career counseling. Law school is going to help me take my advocacy to the next level. Being a lawyer, first and foremost, is being an advocate. With a JD, I can work with groups like SurvJustice and the Rape Survivors Law Project to change the lives of people who were silenced for too long. You must be logged in to post a comment. You can get a free account here.
As a law student, I will mentor as I was mentored, and as a lawyer, I will be a voice for change. Free Webinar: How to Make Your Law School Application Stand Out ","buttonText":"Register Now! Although the applicant expressed initial reservations about the law generally, the statement tells a compelling story of how the applicant's opinions began to shift and their interest in law began. They use real examples and show how that initial interest, once seeded, grew into dedication and passion. The statement, therefore, shows adaptability—receptiveness to new information and the ability to change both thought and behavior based on this new information.
The writer describes realizing that they needed to be "in the world" differently! It's hard to convey such a grandiose idea without sounding cliché, but through their captivating and chronological narrative, the writer successfully convinces the reader that this is the case with copious examples. This law school personal statement also discusses weighty, relatable challenges that they faced, such as the applicant's original feeling toward law, and the fact that they lost some friends along the way. However, the applicant shows determination to move past these hurdles without self-pity or other forms of navel-gazing. Check out our video discussing other Law School Personal Statement examples here:. Click here to read this example. This writer opens with rich, vivid description and seamlessly guides the reader into a compelling first-person narrative.
Using punchy, attention-grabbing descriptions like these make events immersive, placing readers in the writer's shoes and creating a sense of immediacy. They also do a fantastic job of talking about their achievements, such as interview team lead, program design, etc. Instead, they deliver this information within a cohesive narrative that includes details, anecdotes, and information that shows their perspective in a natural way. Lastly, they invoke their passion for law with humility, discussing their momentary setbacks and frustrations as ultimately positive experiences leading to further growth. Click here to view the example. Like the third example above, this fourth law school personal statement opens with engaging description and first-person narrative.
However, the writer of this personal statement chooses to engage a traumatic aspect of their childhood and discuss how this adversity led them to develop their desire to pursue a career in law. Overcoming adversity is a frequent theme in personal statements for all specialties, but with law school personal statements students are often able to utilize uniquely dramatic, difficult, and pivotal experiences that involved interacting with the law. It may be hard to discuss such emotionally weighty experiences in a short letter but, as this personal statement shows, with care and focus it's possible to sincerely demonstrate how your early struggles paved the way for you to become the person you are now.
It's important to avoid sensationalism, but you shouldn't shy away from opening up to your readers about adverse experiences that have ultimately pointed you in a positive direction. This writer does a fantastic job of incorporating their accomplishments and impact they had on their community without any sense of bragging or conceit. Rather, these accomplishments are related in terms of deep personal investment and a general drive to have a positive impact on those around them—without resorting to the cliches of simply stating "I want to help people.
Additionally, they do a great job of explaining the uniqueness of their identity. Being able to express how fundamental aspects of law practice are an integral part of yourself is a hugely helpful tactic in a law school personal statement. Similar to the writer of personal statement 5, this student utilizes the cultural uniqueness of their childhood to show how their path to law school was both deeply personal and rooted in ideas pervasive in their early years. Unlike the writer of statement 5, this student doesn't shy away from explaining how this distinctiveness was often a source of alienation and difficulty.
Yet this adversity is, as they note, ultimately what helped them be an adaptable and driven student, with a clear desire to make a positive impact on the kinds of situations that they witnessed affect their parents. This writer also doesn't shy away from describing their temporary setbacks as both learning experiences and, crucially, springboards for positively informing their plans for the future. One of the hardest things to accomplish in a personal statement is describing not just early setbacks that are out of your control but early mistakes for which you must take responsibility. The writer of this personal statement opens with descriptions of characteristics that most law schools would find problematic at best. But at the end of this introduction, they successfully utilize an epiphany, a game-changing moment in which they saw something beyond their early pathological aimlessness, to clearly mark the point at which they became focused on law.
They clearly describe the path forward from this moment on, showing how they remained focused on earning a law degree, and how they were able to work through successive experiences of confusion to persist in finishing their undergraduate education at a prestigious university. Of course, you shouldn't brag about such things for their own sake, but this writer makes the point of opening up about the unique feelings of inadequacy that come along with being the first person in their family to attend such a school, and how these feelings were—like their initial aimlessness—mobilized in service of their goal and the well-being of others.
Their statement balances discussion of achievement with humility, which is a difficult but impactful tactic when done well. This writer successfully describes not only how they navigated the challenges in their group environments, such as their internship, the debate team, etc. They also avoid placing blame or negatively describing the people in these situations, instead choosing to characterize inherent difficulties in terms neutral to the people around them. In this way, you can describe extremely challenging environments without coming off as resentful, and identify difficulties without being accusatory or, worse yet, accidentally or indirectly seeming like part of the problem.
Expressing privilege as adversity is something that very few students should even attempt, and fewer still can actually pull it off. But the writer of this personal statement does just that in their second paragraph, describing how the ease and comfort of their upbringing could have been a source of laziness or detachment, and often is for particularly well-off students, but instead served as a basis for their ongoing commitment to addressing the inequalities and difficulties of those less comfortable. In a word: passion.
Every step of the way, this student relates their highs and lows, their challenges and successes, to an extremely earnest and sincere set of altruistic values invoked at the very beginning of their statement. This student also successfully elaborates this passion in relation to mature understanding. That is, they make repeated points about their developing understanding of law that sustains their hopefulness and emotional intensity while also incorporating knowledge of the sometimes troubling day-to-day challenges of the profession. Preparing your law school applications is not easy. We can help! Every pre-law student blames their lack of success on the large number of applicants, the heartless admissions committee members, or the high GPA and LSAT score cut offs.
Check out our blog on law school acceptance rates to find out more about the admission statistics for law schools in the US. Having taught more than a thousand students every year, I can tell you the REAL truth about why most students get rejected:. These mistakes put the student in a vicious cycle of self-condemnation and rejection letters. The savviest and successful students normally escape the rejection letter by:. Now that you have a better idea of what your law school personal statement should include, and how you can make it stand out, here are five additional law school personal statements for you to review and get some inspiration:.
According to the business wire, 51 percent of students are not confident in their career path when they enroll in college. I was one of those students for a long time. So, like many other students, I matriculated undecided and started taking introductory courses in the subjects that interest me. I took classes from the department of literature, philosophy, science, statistics, business, and so many others but nothing really called out to me. I figured that maybe if I got some practical experience, I might get more excited about different fields. I remembered that my high school counselor had told me that medicine would be a good fit for me, and I liked the idea of a career that involved constant learning.
So, I applied for an observership at my local hospital. I had to go back to the drawing board and reflect on my choices. I decided to stop trying to make an emotional decision and focus on the data. So, I looked at my transcript thus far, and it quickly became clear to me that I had both an interest and an aptitude for business and technology. I had taken more courses in those two fields than in any others, and I was doing very well in them. My decision was reaffirmed when I spent the summer interning at a digital marketing firm during my senior year in college and absolutely loved my experience.
Since graduating, I have been working at that same firm and I am glad that I decided to major in business. I first started as a digital advertising assistant, and I quickly learned that the world of digital marketing is an incredibly fast-paced sink-or-swim environment. I wanted to swim with the best of them and succeed. So far, my career in advertising has been challenging and rewarding in ways that I never could have imagined. I remember the first potential client that I handled on my own. Everything had been going great until they changed their mind about an important detail a day before we were supposed to present our pitch. Focusing on the big picture helped me come up with a new pitch, and after a long night, lots of coffee, and laser-like focus, I delivered a presentation that I was not only proud of, but that landed us the client.
Three years and numerous client emergencies later, I have learned how to work under pressure, how to push myself, and how to think critically. I also have a much better understanding of who I am and what skills I possess. One of the many things that I have learned about myself over the course of my career is that I am a fan of the law. Over the past three years, I have worked with many lawyers to navigate the muddy waters of user privacy and digital media. I often find myself looking forward to working with our legal team, whereas my coworkers actively avoid them. I have even become friends with my colleagues on the legal team who also enjoy comparing things like data protection laws in the US and the EU and speculating about the future of digital technology regulation.
These experiences and conversations have led me to a point where I am interested in various aspects of the law. I now know that I have the skills required to pursue a legal education and that this time around, I am very sure about what I wish to study. Digital technology has evolved rapidly over the last decade, and it is just now starting to become regulated. I believe that this shift is going to open up a more prominent role for those who understand both digital technology and its laws, especially in the corporate world. My goal is to build a career at the intersection of these worlds. The first weekend I spent on my undergrad college campus was simultaneously one of the best and worst of my life.
I was so excited to be away from home, on my own, making new friends and trying new things. One of those things was a party at a sorority house with my friend and roommate, where I thought we both had a great time. Both of us came from small towns, and we had decided to look out for one another. So, when it was time to go home, and I couldn't find her, I started to worry. I spent nearly an hour looking for her before I got her message saying she was already back in our dorm. It took her three months to tell me that she had been raped that night. Her rapist didn't hold a knife to her throat, jump out of a dark alleyway, or slip her a roofie. Her rapist was her long-term boyfriend, with whom she'd been in a long-distance relationship for just over a year.
He assaulted her in a stranger's bedroom while her peers, myself included, danced the night away just a few feet away. I remember feeling overwhelmed when she first told me. I was sad for my friend, angry on her behalf, and disgusted by her rapist's actions. I also felt incredibly guilty because I had been there when it happened. I told myself that I should have stayed with her all night and that I should have seen the abuse - verbal and physical harassment- that he was inflicting on her before it turned sexual. But eventually, I realized that thinking about what could, should, or would've happened doesn't help anyone. I watched my friend go through counseling, attend support groups, and still, she seemed to be hanging on by a thread.
I couldn't begin to imagine what she was going through, and unfortunately, there was very little I could do to help her. So, I decided to get involved with the Sexual Assault Responders Group on campus, where I would actually be able to help another survivor. My experience with the Sexual Assault Responders Group on campus was eye-opening. I mostly worked on the peer-to-peer hotline, where I spoke to survivors from all walks of life. I was confronted by the fact that rape is not a surreal unfortunate thing that happens to a certain type of person. I learned that it happens daily to mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends.
I also learned that most survivors try to manage this burden on their own, afraid of judgment and repercussions and fearful of a he-said-she-said court battle. I am proud to say that I used my time in college to not only earn an education, but also to advocate for survivors of sexual assault. I protested the university's cover-up of a gang rape that took place in one of the fraternity houses on campus. I spearheaded a 'no means no' campaign to raise awareness about consent on campus. I also led several fundraising campaigns for the Sexual Assault Responders Group that allowed us to pay for legal and mental health counselors for the survivors who came to us for support.
One of the things that this experience helped me realize is that sexual assault survivors often do not know where to turn when the system tries to tell them that it'd be best to just keep quiet and suffer in silence. My goal is to become one of those people that they can turn to for counsel and support. I believe that a law degree would give me the knowledge and tools that I need to advocate for survivors on a more significant scale. Have you started working on your law school resume? Check out this infographic for tips. I grew up in two different worlds. My world at home was full of people of various skin tones and accents.
It was small, loud, and often chaotic in the best ways. I remember walking home and getting to experience music from across the world before I got to my apartment building. Loud reggaeton and afrobeat were always playing somewhere in the distance. Aunties and uncles usually stopped by unannounced and slipped money in your palm when they hugged you goodbye. And the smell of fried plantains was almost always present. My other world was in school. It was a much quieter, more organized world with white hallways, navy blazers, and plaid skirts. It was full of people who did not look or sound like me and teachers who thought my hair was "interesting. I lived in these two worlds because I was born and raised in Xtown, but I went to a private school in a much richer neighborhood.
I loved both of my worlds, but I hated that I had to act differently in both of them. When in school, I had to "code switch" to sound like I belonged there. When I was at home, all the people who shared the interests I was developing in school were either working or in college, so I had no one to talk to about them. My words never felt more divided until I started considering a career in law.
For further information, contact Professor Phillip Mink, J. Support the Schar School Pre-Law LSAT Scholarship Fund. Introduction By Phillip Mink Director of the Patriot Pre-Law Program Schar School of Policy and Government. Since I have advised a multitude of pre-law students at George Mason University and the University of Delaware. Aside from general application advice, my students hope to learn how to write a personal statement that will help them get into law school. Many are convinced they should discuss why they want to become a lawyer. Some schools may require that, I explain, so check their websites. In effect, then, a personal statement can be a two page mini-autobiography that will convince a school a student can bring something unique to the campus.
Despite the difficulty of the writing task, students are often enthralled by creating a narrative showing how their life events have shaped them into who they are. And when they grasp that the revision process can dramatically improve their work, they appreciate learning how to craft the polished prose that an effective statement requires. This is no small matter for a writing intensive profession such as the law. When the writing process ends, students can be satisfied they have conveyed exactly what they wanted to say about themselves in fluid, error-free prose. In my fifteen years as a pre-law advisor and legal writing teacher, I have read hundreds of statements. In addition to personal statements, I have been privileged to read several dozen diversity statements from students who can bring a different perspective to a profession that has too often failed to reflect the experiences of all Americans.
Eight of those are collected here as well. I am grateful to all of these students for allowing me to use their work as learning tools for those who will follow in their footsteps. Phillip Mink, J. George Mason University pmink gmu. This summer I helped oppressed women in the Middle East write a constitution. With the help of our professor, several other students and I developed a project allowing these women to create a constitution from scratch, expressing the values that had for so long been suppressed by Assad and by religious edict. The concept underlying our project was that we would introduce the women to ideas about democracy, and in so doing we would empower them to take an active role in politics and society.
If Assad were to fall, these women might well be at the vanguard in forming a new government that arose from this devastated nation. This workshop was held in a pale one-room building, which was filled from wall to wall with refugee women. When I entered I saw 50 veiled, wide brown eyes staring back at me. They had probably never been in the same room as a white person, yet they looked towards me without fear or hostility. Instead, as soon as we began walking them through a presentation on the basic ideas underlying any democratic society, they were mesmerized, their eyes transfixed on the screen. The eagerness in the room was palpable, and I knew they were anxious to begin voicing their own opinions, which was still foreign to them because their government had forbidden such heresy.
They also wanted the right to express their opinions about the Assad regime and the Alawite religious sect that dominated Syrian government. When the conversations started, we walked around the room to help if they needed it. They did not. I had to transcribe what they were saying as it was translated to me, but despite the texting skills developed as a Millennial, I could barely keep up with their energetic give-and-take. One group in particular was memorable for me. Although this might have been their first political discussion, they spoke with confidence and surprising sophistication about free health care for everyone, giving priority to children and the elderly if universal health care were unattainable.
From these ideas they created specific constitutional language. After formulating their articles, a representative from each group stood at the front of the room and announced their additions to the constitution. In a world where modesty was required, the confidence they exuded as they spoke so adamantly about their amendments was anything but modest. In the end, they had written a genuine document they could take forward in their attempts to create a new Syria. The principal gender role behind this denomination was that women should be submissive to their husbands and caretakers to their families.
During my education, I was repeatedly reminded of my place as a woman. After a TED Talk on traditional gender roles, for instance, a classmate said she would have a career only as long as it took her to find a husband and start a family. On a separate occasion, a male classmate said his mom told him a woman should never be president for fear she would begin menstruating and start a world war. This bizarre adherence to traditional gender roles was suffocating, but when I moved away from Lynchburg I left those gender roles behind.
My experience with the Syrian women in Jordan strengthened my resolve to ensure that those who face seemingly impossible situations have the same freedoms I did. No society should have the power to force women, or anyone else, into submission. If a mother were ugly, they decided her child would be as well, and they pushed the woman off the plane into the ocean. Quinn, my sixth grade world history teacher, meant to teach us the horrors of tyrannical regimes. That evening, I began drafting my first novel. November — once marked by Thanksgiving — became National Novel Writing Month: Thousands of writers worldwide attempted to write 50, words in thirty days. As others read my draft, I discovered that words have power.
When he died, she implored me in vain to change his fate. Friends stopped me in the hallway between classes, pleading for the next installment. In that moment I committed myself to a fiction-writing career. I wanted to confront my harassers, but I did not feel safe doing that in real life. So I did it in my stories. As a fiction writer, I aspired to foster respect for minorities so eventually no person would be persecuted for speaking a different language and no woman would be propositioned for daring to walk unescorted. While these portrayals empowered me, I felt a nagging suspicion that representation alone would not create equality for minorities. By high school graduation, I decided to give up fiction writing to find a career that promoted systemic change. I entered college determined to learn about the political structures that perpetuated exploitation and the institutions that could help me change these inequalities.
One of my political science courses introduced me to biopiracy, the process of patenting biological knowledge or practices without compensating the indigenous people who developed the craft. I studied a case in which the U. government allowed a Texas company, Ricetec, to patent basmati rice. As an Indian woman who had eaten basmati rice four days a week for most of my life, I was appalled at the thought of an American company gaining exclusive rights to rice strains that Indian farmers have spent centuries cross-breeding and perfecting. The Indian government shared this sentiment. My political science classes acquainted me with many such cases in which trade agreements, international conventions, and national legislation could either oppress people or empower them.
Behind every scenario were dozens of lawyers whose words changed the lives of thousands. As I considered these cases, I recalled my first novel. A decade before, inequality and human rights violations had inspired me to write fiction. My love for writing compelled me to continue this pursuit for seven years, and at eighteen, my drive to end systemic discrimination compelled me to give it up. My undergraduate education has made me realize that I do not have to choose between my love for language and my desire to empower vulnerable peoples.
I can combine both of my passions with the law. It begins with a 7-year old girl who watches in confusion as a swarm of parents rush through the classroom grabbing their children. Soon she realizes that she and one other student are the only ones left. Suddenly a soldier bursts into the classroom and grabs the other student, the grandson of the former President of Afghanistan, Daoud Khan. On the way home, the girl hears gun shots and bombs, and she starts to fear what this invasion will mean for her and her family. Before she knows it, her mother and father are selling their belongings to make enough money to escape the war. A month later, her family boards a plane to the U. On the other side of town in Kabul, a young boy awakens to his family of 10 rushing to finish packing. The communists had placed a hit on his father, brother, and sister, who are all active anti-communists.
The family drives from Kabul to Jalalabad, takes a bus, hops onto the back of a pickup truck, and travels by foot until they reach a military area with tents for individuals escaping the country. Early the next morning, the family walks with their luggage the entire day until they catch a bus to Peshawar, Pakistan, leaving behind their beloved home of Afghanistan. After living in Pakistan for 18 months, the family makes its passage to the United States. Ten years later, the girl and boy meet at a high school in Annandale, Virginia. Discovering how much they have in common, the two high school sweethearts fall in love and marry shortly after graduation.
In their early 20s, they bring three children into this world, one of them being me. Growing up in an Afghan household in the U. presented its own challenges. At a young age, the way I looked and dressed — and especially my faith — were different than those of my classmates. Ignorant comments and questions were not uncommon. My own family did not make assimilating any easier. My parents would only let me play with other kids in our home because they feared I would lose my Afghan identity. Sleepovers were out of the question. You are not allowed to date, wear short shorts, or go to parties. Despite these strict expectations, I always celebrated my background, the way I was raised, and my religious beliefs.
I am proud to be different than my peers and have my own sense of uniqueness. However, my pride has been tempered by the realities of being a first generation college student. When my parents moved to the U. While I received immense support and love from my family for continuing my education, I had to teach myself how to apply to college, and once there I had to learn on my own what my professors expected of me. I was on my own. These experiences have crafted me into who I am today.
Weblaw Personal Statement Advice. Your personal statement is the final step in your UCAS application and is arguably the most important. This gives a university the chance to see WebFeb 08, · A personal statement might: Demonstrate your personality and intellectual and emotional fit for the program Explain why you want to pursue a WebJul 29, · The personal statement, one of the most important parts of your law school application, is an opportunity to highlight your writing ability, your personality, and Estimated Reading Time: 4 mins WebThis is no small matter for a writing intensive profession such as the law. As Cornell Law School notes, personal statements are evaluated for “both content and construction, WebExcellent Law School Personal Statement Examples. May 5, Admissions. We’ve rounded up five spectacular personal statements that helped students with borderline ... read more
After these visitations, my father sent us letters and drawings of our family. I could see myself doing guardian ad litem work, just as my mother did in her early career, advocating for children who have neither privilege nor happiness. No answer. Professor Jones had seventy-five sleep deprived, unemotional faces staring back at him until he waved a crisp ten-dollar bill. We were there, the eighth floor of the Hilton Hotel. They decided to sue the hospital and the doctor. In NYC my father worked as a taxi driver, and while doing that he tried to educate himself.They did not understand a lot of it, and 2. I began volunteering at an organization called RED, personal statements for law school, which provides housing and medication to people who test positive for HIV. I joined a Model UN club at a neighboring high school, because my own school did not have enough student interest to have a club. Even so he earned his General Education Diploma in America. Through the internship, I became familiar with home-taping royalty collection worldwide.