<p>Here's the prompt. It's for UT Austin:
Describe a setting in which you have collaborated or interacted with people whose experiences and/or beliefs differ from yours. Address your initial feelings and how those feelings were or were not changed by this experience.</p>
<p>This is my first post, and I'm really nervous. This is my first draft, I just wrote it. It's in no way finished. Please just read it and tell me if the subject and topic would work or if I should go another route. This isn't for you to look at spelling and grammar, I want to know if this is a good essay topic. Thanks so much!!!!</p>
<pre><code>CLANG! The torn synthetic leather ball tears through the iron rim and spreads the chain linked net. Not SWISH. Not a pretty, air conditioned, clean sound. CLANG! A raw, dirty, angry noise heard across the court. This isnt playing on freshly waxed maple wood, this is grinding on rough concrete, splattered with graffiti and sweat. When you fall in a gym, you slide around a little, pull yourself up and keep going. When you fall here, your knees stain in a gushing crimson color. You wont get a varsity letter jacket here. In fact, youll be lucky to get respect. This is a different game, a game I fought to learn and play.
For someone who loves the game of basketball as much as I do, I used to have a lot of trouble finding games. That all changed when I visited my local park a few months ago. This park is absolute simplicity. Two basketball hoops, a couple picnic tables, and a water fountain. And the people. Slouching, messy facial hair and torn t-shirts. Carrying nothing but cigarettes, anger, and distrust. At this point, most of my friends would be a little nervous, wary, or uncomfortable. I guess Id feel all that too, if I wasnt 64 with shoes on, in an area where the average height is 57.
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<p>Another thing about my height: Im naturally good at basketball. It comes with the long arms. So, you can imagine my frustration and disappointment when I wasnt picked up on a team. So as I sat there, watching the teams sprinting down the court, I decided to get to know some people. Being as confident as I am, I sit down next to a man with tattoos all over his hands and neck, introduce myself, and offer him a handshake and a smile. He glares back, takes a hit of his cigarette, and says to a friend: The *****..? He proceeds to cuss me out in spanish, and laugh with another rough looking character sipping out of a bottle. Did I do something wrong? I just want to play basketball. So whats the deal?
This treatment continued for weeks. Eventually however, they slowly began to accept me. It was at this point I learned that all the animosity came from my skin color.
Look at this white boy, with his car, coming into our park and trying to hoop with us!
When asked where I lived, I dodged the question with vague descriptions.
You know that neighborhood over on the east? Yeah I live in there...
You mean the country club? You rich white boy. Shouldnt you be playing golf or something?
While most people would take offense to this, I shook it off. Id heard it all before. Being half white and half mexican, it can be hard to fit in. To one group of kids, youre not important enough. You dont hunt, or own a ranch, and your daddy isnt the mayor. And to another, youre spoiled. Youre too lucky, you have a dad, you can buy whatever you want. While neither of these opinions are completely true, its something I deal with regularly. After all, Im really grateful for everything I had. But I learned another meaning of grateful that day.
That night, I headed home at around 8:30 pm. I usually stay out until 10 or 11, but the next day I had the SAT. Just as Im walking out, Santos, my only friend there, asks why Im going so early. I explain I have the SAT and I want to get plenty of sleep. Guess what he tells me?
Wow, good luck. I wanted to go to college, but I had to get a job to take care of my family.
The sad thing is, most of these people agree with that statement. Either in their young 20s or just graduated, out of about 15 people, only 2 are enrolled in community college. In my family, I was always going to go to college. It was just the plan. My mom told me before I could read how great a life I will have because of college. And these guys..the guys I judged, and criticized, the ghetto people I played with... these guys never had a chance. Its not that they didnt want to go to college. They couldnt.
I still go there, and I play basketball. Whenever I invite a friend, they get nervous, and uncomfortable in that environment. And I understand. But I dont agree. Because to them, theyre losers who dont care about their lives. But to me, theyre people, just like me. People, who didnt get a chance.</p>
