UC transfer personal statement - post, critiques, advice, etc.

CaptainCal
Sat, 31 May 2014 02:30:22 +0000

Congrats to all the transfers so far. I intend to apply this fall and I am working on several versions of my response to the 2nd prompt of the UC transfer essays. I am wondering what kinds of tips and advice everyone can give having been accepted or rejected from different UC’s. What do you think worked? What perhaps did you do wrong? What did you focus on, and how did you present yourself?

I myself am having trouble with this essay. I have at least 4 different versions. I tend to be too narrative and dont know how to inject the “personal” aspect the prompt requests into the essay.

Take for example this that I just wrote:

I awoke before dawn and hesitantly washed myself with several cups of frigid water, the surface of which had hardened into a transparent film of cracked ice. A shrill moo near the washroom window crisply cut through the still air and startled me in my half-awake stupor. In India, the cows moo and their bells rattle inharmoniously before the roosters coo. I dried off and threw on a royal blue kurta that seemed to exhibit its own luminescence in the darkness. I slipped into my baggy white trousers and moaned at the pain in my soles. The day before, a boisterous Sadhu had taken my sandals while I was washing my feet on the steps of a small Hare Krishna temple. It was a serendipitous encounter that left my Grandmother, who was my chaperone, crying from laughter, like it was a prank she had played before. We were after all in her home village that according to my travel guide did not exist, so perhaps taking sandals was an idiosyncratic custom here that my grandmother neglected to inform me of. Eccentricity and peculiarity are the essence of the Indian national identity – why should I expect anything else here, at the fringes of civilization?

“Kale!” he laughed while pointing his long, dry finger at me. The overprotective foreigner and territorial big-city macho part of me wanted to lash out and snatch them back. Instead I used a blend of my limited knowledge of Gujurati, Hindi, and Marathi to talk with him and discern his intentions, though it was through my grandmother’s assistance that we came to a consensus. He wanted to be sure we would meet again, and we agreed to meet at the temple the following morning. I repeatedly looked to my grandmother to clarify the who, what, and why that I so desperately required knowing regarding this man and his objective. She avoided answering and encouraged me to play along. “Kale,” I said with an aura of foreboding, wagging my finger at him in admonition.

Stones, dung, and prickly plants berated my poor soles the whole day as we walked from place to place. I was shocked at my grandmother’s incredulous and uncharacteristic lack of concern. I was in pain, and she had refused to purchase new sandals for me. A few villagers offered me theirs that I refused because I believed a ‘thank you’ was inadequate compensation for the poor. An old, crooked woman convinced me to let her wrap them in some clothe powdered with turmeric, and her husband actually forced me to ride his cow and he escorted me the rest of the day until we returned home. I did not know why people there were so caring about a stranger, or why they were so persistent, but I was humbled by their kindness.

To my surprise that morning, I found the man who had accompanied me with his cow waiting outside. In a fury of gestures and monosyllabic English I learned he was to take me to the temple. When we arrived, the Sadhu was there waiting. He smiled, waived, and walked over to me, handing me my beloved sandles. I felt like a wounded veteran reunited with his wife. He held me and stunned me when he spoke unbroken English. “This is my home, these are my friends. This is yours, too. We share our food, homes, and lessons.” He said, pointing to my wrapped feet. “We are happy this way, do you see? – Indeed, there was nothing but joy and friendliness here. “We struggle for the same, for warmth, comfort, and food, and we help each other to obtain this. Remember when you go back to USA – you have seen another way to live and be happy.”

I later learned that the Sadhu was a prominent figure in OSHO, a former physics professor, and that my grandmother’s is his disciple. He had planned to make an impact on me that I would never forget. He succeeded in showing me love, joy, reality, and possibility. Though the time was short, I lived in their shoes and found relations with people I had originally thought I had nothing in common with. I learned the value of propriety and openness through my encounter with the Sadhu. My grandmother’s pitiless frugality was a lesson in necessity over desires and the resourcefulness of a community. Humility and lightheartedness are the keys to happiness that sustained these people, and I have adopted these to my own benefit. Everyday that I trudge to work and school, I am reminded that although I have “walked the walk”, my journey is far from over.

SO
I’m looking for some input from you all. What does this essay miss? MOre generally, what’s your interpretation and inference from this. I feel like all i did was tell a story, and it says very little about me other than that I spent time in India and had an experience that was influencing.

Perhaps Ill share my others depending on the enthusiasm of you all.