<p>I'm currently a Freshman at LSU, and I really want to transfer to A&M in the Spring. I'm working on my admissions essay, and I would appreciate as much input as possible.</p>
<p>Here it is:
On a gloomy April evening in South Louisiana I lounged on my tiny, toddler recliner. I studied the rain drops parading from the sky. I watched as they flooded the cane fields surrounding my house. I could hear nothing but the water droplets beating against my roof, as all of my family members were napping in the dreary weather--a common habit of people in my area. I wanted so badly to go outside and explore. I craved change and adventure, an almost foreign concept in my town.
For six generations, my family has lived in a rural black hole known as New Iberia. The food, music, tradition, and “southern hospitality” of Acadiana attract people from all around the world, and, like entering a black hole, they are incapable of leaving. As I matured in age, I slowly began to understand how disconnected I was from everyone around me. Most people in south Louisiana are content living uneventful, mediocre lives. Success is defined by getting married and working at a stable company. I refused to be satisfied with living in this dreamless fashion, one which could not accommodate my insatiable desire for learning and growth. It was not until my sophomore year in high school that I realized how feasible change could be for me.
On my first day of tenth grade, I entered Mr. Delcambre's English class unaware of what to expect. I was immediately intimidated, yet intrigued, by his knowledge. Mr. Delcambre immensely enjoyed challenging his students. I was constantly pushed in his class intellectually, physically, and emotionally. I began to realize that success occurs when hard work meets opportunity. I started thinking about my vocational path and how vital it was that I begin living and working to achieve those goals. My career search came to an abrupt halt when my grandmother died the summer after my sophomore year. Once the initial shock of her death wore off, I began recalling every single event that led up to her death. What I discovered was shocking, life-changing.
My grandmother’s doctor erroneously prescribed her Fentanyl--a narcotic intended for patients with terminal illnesses --for her back-aches. This medication was too strong for my grandmother, which caused her unfortunate demise. Feelings of confusion ensued and I began to ponder the idea of allowing someone’s life to slip through my fingers with the stroke of a pen. From the moment I discovered his error, I knew that I desired to ensure that such a mistake would not happen as far as I has influence—I knew I wanted to be a doctor and one who practiced knowing the results of neglect. My natural curiosity combined with this newfound determination made me view education as an opportunity, not as an obligation.
I took the educational opportunity set before me, not looking back but moving forward. I was no longer concerned about escaping this life but embarking on my purpose. I began pursuing every passing interest (e.g., Passover, lucid dreaming, artificial insemination, etc.) in research. Upon Mr. Delcambre’s recommendation, I began reading The Great Books of the Western World and quickly became interested in philosophy. At this point, my education outside of the classroom was beginning to surpass my in-school learning.
Before my grandmother’s death, I had little determination to identify a means to achieve my long-term goals. Fortunately, opportunity does come in misshapen packages. Her doctor’s error allowed me to discover my desire to help others using my compassion and experience gained through my personal hardship. I now have the ambition to push myself to succeed in college and to embrace my future endeavors with confidence. I will credit my successes to those who have helped me further my education, because, without them, I may never have realized my potential.</p>