Memorable Apply Texas Essays from Last Year's Seniors

Essay A:What was the environment in which you were raised? Describe your family, home, neighborhood, or community, and explain how it has shaped you as a person.

Though I was born in San Antonio, I’ve spent nearly all of my life down in the valley. According to most of my peers, the valley is not an interesting place. They say the weather is too hot and there’s nothing to do. Everyone seems to be in a rush to leave and “find themselves”. As for me, I appreciate the quietness. The valley is cozy and small; everywhere I turn holds a memory. I remember running downtown from the library with some friends to catch a soccer game a couple of blocks down. The memory all comes back to me: the streetlight’s orange shine at our feet at night, the splashing sound of running through the puddles, and the wind of the cars speeding by next to us. I’m glad to call this place my home.

Though as homely and familiar as the land feels, I couldn’t help but feel estranged culturally from most of the people; including my family. I could understand a conversation in Spanish and read as well, but to be frank, I was not your typical Hispanic. My appearance and vocabulary was obviously American, I didn’t appreciate the smell of menudo, and I couldn’t dance to their music. Often at family gatherings I was seen as a killjoy. Let’s just say that in my family, rejecting a bowl of menudo was the cultural equivalent of committing sin; and the sinner was deserving of shame. I dreaded the sound of “corridos”. Mexican music is usually always played at Quinceaneras. Every song sounded the same to me, but to them, it was “uno de mis favoritos” (one of my favorites). I declined every offer to dance because I didn’t know how, and neither did I want to. I would often walk outside, lay my back against the building, and either slip on some earbuds or strike up conversations with the people outside.

 I had accepted that Mexican traditions just weren’t for me, and for the longest time, I wouldn’t do anything about it. That is, until I met my girlfriend. She made me feel not like an outcast, but rather a learner. She taught me how to dance and appreciate the music not for what it is, but for what it does. It brought people together; including her and I. It’s safe to say that she broadened my perspectives on everything. Most importantly, she had taught me to think with an open mind and do things I wouldn’t normally do out of fear or judgment. Often we sell ourselves short. All we really need is that push.

I grew up in a household based on merit. Growing up, if we had done well in school, my parents made sure that my sister and I would be rewarded. Such rewards could’ve been small things, like ice cream after the school day or the new DS game popular at the time. It sounds highly meritocratic, but it was a system that I can say worked to my benefit. I had learned to try to do my best to be rewarded. As time passed, I began to see the bigger picture. My parents were showing me the benefits of hard work. Pretty soon I had stopped expecting awards and started appreciating the satisfaction of doing well for myself.

I remember looking at my report card one sunny afternoon during 3^th grade and seeing A’s across. I held the paper in my hands as I took the car drive home feeling proud of what I had done.  The smile on my dad’s face was enough for me. My father worked long hours at a dealership for us, and I would rarely see him when I was younger. In a way, this was me repaying my debt to him. I remember what he would tell me: “Don’t worry about me. The only thing I need you to worry about is school”. I have since the day he told me. Without my parents, I believe that my work ethic and desire for success might’ve been hindered; for that I thank them.

 

Essay A: What was the environment in which you were raised? Describe your family, home, neighborhood, or community, and explain how it has shaped you as a person.

            In all honesty, I have thought of countless way to write this essay. I have questioned whether to merely avoid the topic of my family, but have ultimately decided to just answer the prompt. Home, by whatever definition, is the place in which you are most comfortable. However, the physical building that I have lived most my life doesn’t quite bring this feeling of comfort and warmth, with the exception of being home alone.

            I would describe my immediate surroundings as inconsistent. Throughout most of my life, this word also described my parents’ relationship. Although my parents are not divorced, and have not made any legal step towards doing so, it seems they’re staying together for my brother and I. In some sort of way, they unhealthily depend on each other, yet try with all their will power not to show it. Reminiscing on my childhood, I slowly realized that doing things to make them proud wasn’t worth my time and effort. Despite this, I didn’t quite stop trying until I was well into middle school. While I try not to pick up their bad relationship habits, I have caught myself expressing them in my current relationship. It seems that not only am I collection of their best features, but I fear I’m also a product of their worst.

            Despite not finding comfort within my home life, I found all the comfort in a tightly knit group of friends I met in middle school, as well as a church youth group I joined my junior year of high school. While some of my closest friends were older than me, we connected on a much deeper level and have been through tough times together. The compassion my soul sought after was found within this group of friends who have kept me in check. In addition, the guidance that I needed was found in the leaders of the youth group. They were willing to listen to my story and helped me through tough times. In addition, volunteering in youth organizations allowed me to develop as a leader and dive into my love of music. While I grew up attending a church, it only felt part of a routine and not a genuine experience, the youth group has changed my perspective, and helped me realize the grander picture in relation to how small our problems are.

            My upbringing is not, by far, as bad as others may have it. However, I have learned that simply telling yourself that your own problems aren’t as bad and shouldn’t complain isn’t the best way to deal with said problems. In additions these, “difficulties” have shaped me and have allowed me to mature.

 

Essay A

            Growing up, my neighborhood was “ghetto”, as most people would consider it. The roads were poorly paved, cops were constantly surrounding my neighbor’s house because the lady had 13 children she couldn’t control, and all the houses in the block were shabby. My parents, only educated up to their senior year in high school, knew that teaching me right from wrong at a young age was essential to being exemplary parents, especially in the environment we lived in. Consequently, with this standard in mind, I wasn’t allowed to do many things “normal” kids got to do, even more so because I come from a home where God is our foundation.

            Throughout my childhood, my options were limited when it came down to money-related things. In school, especially, I’d walk around and notice all these different brands of shoes, backpacks, and clothing, and compared to what I could afford, everything was so much prettier. As a little kid, I naturally wanted everything. I knew how different I was, though, but I didn’t necessarily consider it to be a negative thought in my head. Over and over my parents would tell me “You’re breathing right now because God chose to give you another day of life, so learn to appreciate what you have.” Having heard this multiple times, it got buried deep into my heart, and so in every situation God put us through, I’d repeat those words in my head and everything seemed to become better.

            Moreover, considering my parents held back from attending college after receiving their high school diplomas, it put me in a position where I began to question myself whether college was a crucial milestone in ones life.  Nobody had ever informed me on the importance of going to college, so I didn’t think college was a big deal, until my parents transferred me from a public school to a charter school where their motto is “A reason in life A purpose for learning.” Looking back at how I grew up and how financially unstable we were because my parents were limited in their job offers, since they didn’t receive any type of degrees, made me realize a lot of things.

 

Essay B:Most students have an identity, an interest, or a talent that defines them in an essential way.Tell us about yourself.

Essay B

                Interestingly, the talent with which I identify myself with was not mine since the beginning. In fact, this talent had no such existence in my being until I was maybe 8 years old. Since I come from a musically inclined family, it would come as no surprise that my talents revolve around music, but my beginnings were mostly pathetic. Frankly, more than being musically gifted, my identity resides with my journey and development into the family talent.

                As a child, I was surrounded by nothing but musicians, instruments, bands, and anything that related with music. Despite my environment, not once did I find any remote interest in attempting to even touch an instrument. Being brought up in church, praise and worship services were filled with my off-beat clapping and off-key singing. It wasn’t long before most of my family realized and accepted that I was the black sheep. However, my dad hadn’t lost hope in me yet. One Sunday, after church, I stared out the window in confusion. We weren’t heading home but to the convention center area. Without saying anything, my dad got out of the car and spent roughly 20 minutes in Guitar Center. I was so bored I fell asleep. The sound of boxes taking space in the back of the can woke me up, however only briefly. I apathetically only woke again when we had arrived home and had to help unload the new gear.

                After everyone had settled, my dad sat us all down in the living room where all the new boxes were. He casually explained how he was going to teach each of us how to play an instrument to form a band. Given my condition and unmotivated character I immediately shrugged off what he said. There was no way I’d be able to learn anything, for I was musically inept. To my astonishment, however, my dad actually went through with his plan and began to teach me how to play the bass guitar. For the first few months, I showed no progress, and was frustrated. Many times did I attempt to quit, and abandon what my dad wanted for me, but, being the stubborn man he was, he wouldn’t have any of it. As time went by, I slowly but steadily improved, though my perpetual frustration and cynical attitude kept me from seeing it. During the waning months of my second year learning, my dad had a talk with me. At first, I thought he’d tell me that I was unteachable and a lost cause, but I received the opposite sort of conversation. He expressed how proud of me he was, for me to have grown so much musically despite having absolutely no musical intuition. I thought he was joking. He apparently saw my skepticism, because he took out a recording someone had taken of our latest gig. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one impressed with my bass playing. He told me dozens of people came to ask him who had taught the young man who played that night. Many had also said they foresaw me take part in a great career using my “talent”. Reluctantly, I could see that I had improved significantly from my first few months.

After some satisfaction had settled, my dad proceeded to tell me that I was to be enrolled in a music institute where I would continue to learn. The endless stories of my experiences and growth from that school are way too long to mention, but long story short, in the 2 years that I’d been there, I’d become a seasoned and advanced bassist. More and more did I notice just how talented I was getting at understanding almost every aspect of music, from theoretical to practical. Once I graduated, I became well known in the Christian musical community. Leaders and individual musicians left and right were now asking for me. I began to play countless gigs with new people, and made my name known in the communities. I became known to my closer friends as a prodigy at the age of 12. By then my skills were above what any other student had ever even come close to getting. With more guidance, gigs, friends, connections, and experience, my skills increased even more. I had now played live on TV, radio, and had even recorded tracks for some bands and artists. At the age of 16, I became recognized as one of the best and youngest bassist in the Christian community. With such a reputation, the institute I had studied at, graduated, and even substituted for, had hired me as a fully-fledged professor.

From humble beginnings to now a veteran musician, I learned that even without being a genius, hard work and effort can make all the difference. Now, I aspire to become an even better musician, and study at world renowned Berkeley College of Music. Although once I was but a hopeless talentless child, I look at myself now and see what absolute determination and dedication can yield. I look back at my past and the long journey I’ve endured and see that that is exactly who I am. I am a musician. I am a hard worker. This is my identity.

                                                                Essay B

For as long as I can remember I’ve always had an interest in art. It serves as not only an emotional outlet for me, but also a peaceful way for me to spend my time. Although in the midst of my preteen years I discovered art aided me by helping me feel more in tune and like less of an outcast, it still benefits me in my present, everyday life as it helps me in being more attentive to detail and deliberate my choices in stressful or conflicting situations.

As a child, when shading pages in coloring books, no matter how creative the various shades of colors were, I would try my best to ensure that I stayed within the lines. This pertains to my identity as it highlights how, even early on, I felt the need to be a perfectionist and follow the rules, no matter how insignificant they may have come across. When it was around the time I entered middle school I found my peers had begun changing not only physically, but with whom they associated with and I began to question how I was “supposed” to act. As years progressed I started struggling with my identity and as a way of coping I depended more so on art at school. When us students were given free time to converse with friends I would sit in solitude with the company of none other than my trusty pencil and paper. I can’t deny how much I enjoy relaying something from mental to paper; however, there came times when I wanted to join conversations of unimportance. Although this social anxiety was difficult for me to overcome I am blessed to have my mom, whom gives me advice when I express my insecurities to her. After telling her with tears in my eyes how I was troubled oh-so much by my inability to carry on a casual conversation, she advised me not to focus so much on how people would react to what I say and to be relaxed and let things flow. Once receiving this word of help, I was more easily able to make friends and although I began talking more to people, I still found myself going back to art.

Art is my blissful place. I discover myself to be at my most positive emotional state; my most happy and carefree place. This renewed sense of positivity allows me to view the world around me with a clearer and favorable perspective. If I find myself faced with a difficult situation, I immediately turn to art to clear my mind so I am better able to consider my choices of words and options to manage the circumstances as best as possible.

When painting or drawing a portrait, I must use a reference picture, which means I have to pay attention to detail in order to get it as identical as possible. As I view the reference I go section by section so I don’t take in too much at once and get frustrated. This also regards the way I handle any road block in my teenage life. In order to stay clear of mind and develop a solution I take problems on as they are given to me and once they are solved I move on to the next. This helps me live a happier and more positive day-to-day life.

I am, and have always been, a quiet soul. Art has helped me to, initially cope with, then overcome my timid ways and be more outspoken; however, I still maintain the positive aspects of my original ways. Art has influenced the development of who I am by, not only, helping me be more analytical, but by encouraging me to be an exuberant person. Art is not only my hobby, but also a significant part of my identity, motivating me to be the version of myself I am today.

 

 Essay B

People right away seem to know who I am just by the way I look and act. And I’m aware that I can come off as just an ordinary person or maybe just plain. What people fail to realize, or even bother to do, is get to know me and find out the hidden passions in me. And one passion that no matter which way I will sway stay with me for the rest of my life. A major interest of art/design.

            My love for this medium beings in a small humble school at the very tip of Texas. I had started kindergarten and there was an art class in the church that was part of the school. Our very first project was to paint a picture made with water colors. I saw everyone around start cracking at it with their own ideas and the colorful designs. I had to come up with something to make, so I decided to paint what I at the time perceived as the Loch-Ness Monster, but it was just a few brushes of purple paint in the shape of a lopsided checkmark. I had finished it but I still noticed that the other kids had finished their paintings and I began to think less of what I had made. Then the teacher came up to me asking to see the painting. As I gave it to her I saw her smile and said, “It looks nice let me hang it up”. Looking up to what seemed like quite a high way up my painting among the other pieces of art was a scene that inspired me with the dream to have my art recognized and bring the same inspiration that I felt on that day.

            However, time is never kind to those whose dreams are still young and innocent. For a short time I would always look forward to going to art class. It was always the highlight of even showing up to school for me. Maybe up to when I turned eleven-years old is when people would start to doubt me. I would hear that my art is not even average, that I can’t make something appealing to the eye, and that I couldn’t make a career from what I made. These are real things that I heard and was told, and I didn’t get any support to further improve my style and overall final product because art supplies is extremely expensive. For a long time I would stop being inspired to draw or create anything. I felt as though my dream was just a shallow representation of what I could never achieve. And the fact that artist of all realms can’t even make a median of $43,000 was soul crushing. I felt the world got colder and bitter towards me just because I wanted to be something great and to inspire other people. Eventually this feeling of sorrow and lack of inspiration would stop.

            Around my freshman year of high school I developed my creative side of me that was so lost back in the early days of middle school. Now I was exposed to so many different types of arts and techniques to further my skills. If you were to look at something from me from 08’ to now it would be a drastic improvement. Even though I can never follow my dream to become a famous artist I will continue to do what I like to do. Because as cliché as it may be, art is my drive and my motivation to keep going. When I’m having a bad day I can draw till I feel better, or if I want to make somebody laugh I’ll make a goofy doodle. And even when the voices of doubt still flout around me I can just block them out with ease. For the reason that this is my life and my interest; it’s what makes me ME.    

Topic C: You've got a ticket in your hand - Where will you go? What will you do? What will happen when you get there?
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Essay C

                If I had a ticket to go anywhere in the world, I would go to Boston Massachusetts. While I realize that, as of recent, all I ever talk about and all my friends hear out of me is Massachusetts, a state that’s in the same nation I live in, its capital never ceases to spark my interest. Most people I know would prefer to go to other places, maybe outside of the United States. Some place like a country in Europe or Asia or maybe even in Africa or South America. They would choose to go to one that’s elegant or a bit eccentric or even vaguely familiar to one they know of already would be sufficient to satisfy that person’s interests, but as for me, my desire to go to Boston, Massachusetts is inextinguishable.

                One of the reasons why I would like to visit Boston is to visit famous landmarks and learn more about my American heritage. Being a huge history nerd (particularly American history), I would want to visit the places where the old battles, conventions, and meetings took place. I have always been a fan of old Boston ever since I played Assassin’s Creed 3. Bostonian culture museums are everywhere in this old colonial city. Reenactments happen all the time, with old school clothing, muskets, and cannons. Even the pubs hold their history close. I want to visit Boston Harbor and set sail in an old 18^th century ship while hearing the sailors’ old stories of how navigating the seas was more than 200 years ago. Along with going on the Boston Harbor walk, there are literally dozens of museums of fine art and history to visit. Also, I would visit landmarks such the Paul Revere house, the old Boston state house, and the Bunker Hill memorial. I would make time to visit some zoos and local common areas such as parks and trails. Boston is also home to several great monuments and sights. Statues and sculptures align certain streets that absolutely stunning at just about any time of the day.

                I will not only go to visit, however. I plan to establish myself in this glorious, history-rich city as a permanent resident. Along with my plans to study in the city’s fine institutions and visit as a tourist, I feel a calling from the city itself. It is there that I will discover who I truly am. I will build my own person the way I see fit and pass on whatever legacy I have to give. My reasons for going to Boston are not solely for fun. I plan to follow in the footsteps of my distant family, who, more than 50 years ago, or maybe even more, made themselves part of American society. According to several of my grandparents and other family members, when my father’s side of my family emigrated from the Old World (Japan, they had said), they had first traveled to Mexico, where more than two-thirds remained. The rest sought opportunity in the Northern parts of the United States. Supposedly, they lived prosperously but lost contact after some family feud. Ever since I’d heard those stories, it’s been my dream, and my objective to make my own journey to New England. Not only because I believe prosperity will become evident, but also because I want to reestablish the family name up in the North.

                I feel like making this journey to the North will bring me a sort of new start. I feel as though a new door has been opened for me, just waiting for me to start and finish what my ancestors had, in a sense, failed. Since I’ve always been a more independent sort of person, the thought of me starting something on my very own is extremely appealing and exciting. Words cannot express just how this very old city calls out my name, waiting for me to pick up the torch.