- Sat Nov 29, 2014 8:53 pm
#17527
Hey Dave thanks for getting back to me! I went in an entirely different direction with my personal statement, I attached a copy at the end. If you think it would be better to address that situation in order to emphasize the change and how that whilst mistakes were made, they were valuable life lessons, then I can definitely re-write for that. I figured I would write the addendum, but wasn't sure how much that actually weighs in on their decision. I have great letters of recommendation, academic and professional. Stanford is my #1 choice and I hear they are one of the more lenient schools as far as considering "soft" factors in their admissions process. As long as I won't be penalized in some way for applying and possibly getting rejected, then reapplying after I buff the GPA (and possibly LSAT),then I don't have any reason not to apply now and roll the dice, short of the insane amount of money it costs to apply. Is going to a T25 or T50 school and then attempting to transfer a bad idea? I know the transfer slots are almost non-existent so I am guessing it's probably not the best plan. I just want to give myself the best chance possible at a T3. I'm almost 30 and the clock is ticking so an extra year wouldn't be the ideal option, but definitely willing to do whatever is necessary. Thanks again for your help!
(Current Personal Statement, willing to change topics if needed!)
Green; not green like a tree, nor green like money, but a green like you’re looking at 1980s computer monitor. That’s what it’s like viewing the world through night vision. It is 3:00AM, and we’re walking to our objective. We’ve already crossed “IED highway” and countless kilometers of empty fields of mud. It’s amazing how quiet a group of 75 men can be if necessary. We’re moving to a small village in a remote Afghan valley looking for one man. In the distance a dog is barking—the early warning system for our enemy. It doesn’t matter, there is no turning back. We’ve gotten out of the fields and onto something that resembles a road. Slowly and mechanically, we advance onward towards the house. Thick mud walls, rusty metal gates; they all look the same during the day and even more so at night. That’s when I notice it. And by it I mean him or her, but in reality it just appeared as a dark mass moving towards us. I whisper into my headset, alerting the others to its presence, then break off from the group with my interpreter.
I don’t fear the dark anymore, but I do fear the unknown. 500m, 400m, 300m, the distance between us and it shrinks while my excitement and fear grow. Fear is healthy, fear is good, and fear keeps you alive. My laser goes on, illuminating it. It’s a man walking with something in his hand, using it almost like a cane. Is it a cane? Is it a gun? Is it a shovel? It’s too hard to tell. In combat your mind is constantly absorbing, processing, and analyzing information. And unlike most jobs, when your calculation is off, people die. I have my interpreter tell him to stop; first in Pashtu, then in Dari, then in Farsi, all to no avail. By this time I have determined three things—it’s a man, he is alone, and if he should explode my friends will be ok. He marches towards us, seemingly deaf to my interpreter’s commands. I hear the click, the innocuous yet deadly sound of my rifle’s safety disengaging. With six pounds of pressure from my right index finger I can take a life. Every second I’m reevaluating the situation; every little bit of data is analyzed, a new conclusion is drawn, and my plan is altered.
We’re now face to face. It’s an old man. There’s an interesting phenomenon that occurs in your head when your target changes from a moving dark mass 200m away to a real person made of flesh and blood, looking at you in the face. Your perception is altered; no longer do you get to enjoy the objectivity of a faceless entity in the night, but must face the reality of its humanity. The hardest part of this transition is maintaining your ability to quickly and objectively receive and analyze the happenings around you. There is no comparison to this outside of war. Not only does your life hinge upon your decision making, but the lives of your friends and ultimately the life of your enemy. By remaining calm, using the information at hand effectively, and being confident in your choices but willing to drastically change them if the situation warrants is what keeps people alive. In this case the old man was walking to the mosque a couple kilometers down the road for Morning Prayer. After a brief stop we let him go, somewhat shaken, but no worse for wear.
Law school and the legal profession require a multitude of skills for survival: intellectual capacity, analytical reasoning, persuasive arguments, and the ability to think quickly and confidently in a variety of high-pressure situations. This story is my story, one out of many. On that day an elderly man was able to pray and return home to his family. I too was able to return home and lived to replay this same story many times in the days and weeks to come. The skills, fortitude, ability to operate under pressure, and the confidence gained from the experience of leading soldiers into combat has prepared me for the challenges of both the legal profession and law school. I look forward to the challenges ahead and am determined to conquer and overcome them, and just like combat, persevere to learn, love, and live another day.