<p>I'm applying as an international student, fyi.. I'm not applying to Ivy Leagues or any well known school, I don't think..
I know the essay is very raw and needs a lot of changes, and I personally think it sucks bad, but this is my third attempt at writing my college essay, and my application is due Dec 1st, so there isn't a whole lot I can do anymore.. Technical critiques will be enough, but other comments will be appreciated. Thank you.</p>
<p>A Peek into the Life of an Illegal Immigrant</p>
<p>Am I a nomad? I am Mongolian, thats for sure. Yes, we were nomadic when we, my mother and I, migrated to the U.S., thinking the place held all the keys to happiness and affluence, but I dont believe we are anymore. You would not have doubted my total belief in becoming happier and richer than ever if you had seen me that cool September night at the airport terminal waiting to board my flight, surrounded by family and friends. You could not have said anything to make me believe otherwise </p>
<p>~~~(in italics) A girl of eleven, almost twelve, hops up and down on one leg, playing hopscotch on the conveniently placed tiles, her jubilant cry coming out muffled as she loses her footing. Next, she takes turns between riding a luggage cart and pushing one of her countless cousins on it. She is careless, confident and smug of her luck, of the fact that she is leaving everybody behind for America, the land where people only dream of going. She is going to live in an at least two story house and speak perfect English, and hopefully and quickly become Americanized.~~~</p>
<p>No one could have told me how, in fact, it was really to be. I never would have thought up by myself that far from owning a house, we were to be taken in as roommates, but eventually reversing our positions by renting our own apartment and taking in others as roommates. Who would have thought that the school I was placed in would put me in a HILT (High Intensity Language Training) program for speaking that little English that I did among others whose English was no better than mine, thus potentially slowing down the process of becoming a better English speaker? Certainly not I. Why was my mother, the smartest, the strongest woman I know, a civil engineer by profession, who raised me by herself and obtained all that weve needed with her own two hands and brain, juggling two jobs, whether it be as a waitress, as a cashier, and/or as a caregiver for the elderly, despite being perpetually tired? She was strong, all right. She had planned she was going to raise me in the U.S. and give me an American education along with a grasp of the English language that fellas over in Mongolia would lust over, and boy, she was going to do it. Our biggest setback was the absence of that little card indicating permanent residency.
I know now when being nomads became a thing of the past; it was as soon as we put foot in the U.S.,we could not just take leave like migratory birds if the situation got hard. Instead, we became sort of like bears who go into hibernation to evade the deprivations of winter, only instead of curling up and going to slumber for hoursmore like monthson end, we fought back to make the best of our circumstance. After all, this land is what you make of it; you work hard, you get paid, fair and square. Although the prospect of returning to the security of our home and family in Mongolia seemed welcoming, we were not going to give up; we were going to persevere. I did come upon a recipe to subdue one of the aforementioned complaints and surprises. There were the books, abundant and free; books available by the tons, from this genre to that genre, from slim to thick, from sad to hilarious, from useless to life-changing. You want a book, you go get it, from your school library, online, from Barnes & Noble, or from the choice of three of your nearest public libraries. Heck, you could even write one yourself. This infatuation with books started from Molly Learns a Lesson: A School Story (American Girls Collection), and it got me kicked out of HILT, not that I was too bummed about that.
Basically I could tell you about all the hardships I faced and how overcoming these setbacks had made me stronger and wiser, but I cant because it wouldnt be accurate. In all honesty, I am still growing. I am still trying to learn whatever it is life wants me to take out of all this. All I know so far is despite my shattered, childish expectations, I must keep trying and working my hardest until I get the end result that I want. My mothers efforts and sacrifice offered me a perspective that once I saw, I could not un-see, making me more motivated than ever to come out on top. As long as I know what my goals are, I will not be lost. The U.S. has a lot more offer, I know. I just need to grab at it.</p>