Personal Statement Feedback

[madyhugh]

I'm here on behalf of Dave's twitter post, and any help is genuinely appreciated!

__________________
This was the moment of truth. We were down by one run in the bottom of the seventh inning of the championship game, and it all came down to me. I grabbed my bat, sauntered up to home plate with an all-too-familiar air of feigned confidence, and glared at the pitcher. She studied my demeanor: how closely I stood to the plate, the angle of my elbows, how high I carried my bat. And then, from all the information attained in those brief moments, she threw me a deliberate, carefully personalized pitch. It was an ambiguous but definite strike, slightly high in the zone, and very close to my body. The ball and bat struck each other at precisely the angle to propel it into the air directly above the shortstop. In a total of sixteen seconds both the play and the game were concluded in a heartbreaking loss. Seven years later, I still remember that painful stagger back to the dugout.
When that game occurred, I was the tender age of fourteen. If you knew me today, you would know that I possess fierce ambition coupled with a genuine comfort in who I am. When I was fourteen, however, such a strong sense of self was unimaginable to me. I was insecure and nervous. I criticized myself in a way that my team or coach never would. In my eyes, I was the sole reason that my team lost the aforementioned championship game. I held that belief closely, and it lingered in my mind every time I stepped foot onto the field. When I was fourteen, every loss steadily nagged me to give up and accept defeat.
Nonetheless, I carried on. I began to push myself harder than I ever had, and dedicated myself to never experiencing that sense of self-disappointment again. The batting cages became my second home, I scrutinized my technique down to the position of my knuckles when I gripped the bat, and I learned how to mentally prepare myself for the intense pressure that accompanies the game of softball. With each passing year, my skills developed and my confidence matured.
I’ve come to understand that my academic career is a lot like softball. I often compare my freshman year of college to that championship game; my failures from that year nearly broke me in the most fundamental way that a person can break. Yet, similar to my response seven years prior, I picked myself up and committed myself wholeheartedly to fulfilling my long term goal of becoming an attorney. I vowed to never experience a failure like that again, and my dedication was palpable throughout the rest of college.
Let me say, the mere fact that I’m currently writing this statement to you is remarkable. To me, this essay is a physical manifestation of every hour I spent studying, every internship I applied for, every success I experienced throughout my academic and personal life. It is also a manifestation of the failures I endured during that first year of college. My desire to be an attorney is what fueled my dedication. The prospect of a career in law gave me the necessary kickstart I needed to overcome that failure. Still, whenever I was faced with the menacing “why do you want to be a lawyer” inquiry, my answer rested solely upon a general passion.
My answer began to change when I interned for a young attorney who singlehandedly managed her own employment discrimination law firm during the summer between my sophomore and junior year of college. Between the long hours spent bate-stamping documents, the research I performed to help relieve our clients, and the drawn-out mediations we attended, I discovered what it meant to be an attorney. I was intoxicated with both the mundane and the thrilling aspects of the legal system. It was in that period of time when I understood precisely why I wanted to be an attorney. I saw this revelation as a success that only my preceding failure could have lead me to.
The journey to becoming a champion softball player is incredibly similar to the journey to becoming a lawyer. We choose to discuss, almost exclusively, the successes of these journeys. Yet it’s so crucial to acknowledge the failures that often come before our successes, for our failures are what shape us into the individuals we are today. I truly believe that every defeat I previously endured was necessary in my quest to become an attorney. I look forward materializing these lessons into a successful career in both law school and beyond.

[Dave Killoran]

I'm here on behalf of Dave's twitter post, and any help is genuinely appreciated!

__________________
This was the moment of truth. We were down by one run in the bottom of the seventh inning of the championship game, and it all came down to me. I grabbed my bat, sauntered up to home plate with an all-too-familiar air of feigned confidence, and glared at the pitcher. She studied my demeanor: how closely I stood to the plate, the angle of my elbows, how high I carried my bat. And then, from all the information attained in those brief moments, she threw me a deliberate, carefully personalized pitch. It was an ambiguous but definite strike, slightly high in the zone, and very close to my body. The ball and bat struck each other at precisely the angle to propel it into the air directly above the shortstop. In a total of sixteen seconds both the play and the game were concluded in a heartbreaking loss. Seven years later, I still remember that painful stagger back to the dugout.
When that game occurred, I was the tender age of fourteen. If you knew me today, you would know that I possess fierce ambition coupled with a genuine comfort in who I am. When I was fourteen, however, such a strong sense of self was unimaginable to me. I was insecure and nervous. I criticized myself in a way that my team or coach never would. In my eyes, I was the sole reason that my team lost the aforementioned championship game. I held that belief closely, and it lingered in my mind every time I stepped foot onto the field. When I was fourteen, every loss steadily nagged me to give up and accept defeat.
Nonetheless, I carried on. I began to push myself harder than I ever had, and dedicated myself to never experiencing that sense of self-disappointment again. The batting cages became my second home, I scrutinized my technique down to the position of my knuckles when I gripped the bat, and I learned how to mentally prepare myself for the intense pressure that accompanies the game of softball. With each passing year, my skills developed and my confidence matured.
I’ve come to understand that my academic career is a lot like softball. I often compare my freshman year of college to that championship game; my failures from that year nearly broke me in the most fundamental way that a person can break. Yet, similar to my response seven years prior, I picked myself up and committed myself wholeheartedly to fulfilling my long term goal of becoming an attorney. I vowed to never experience a failure like that again, and my dedication was palpable throughout the rest of college.
Let me say, the mere fact that I’m currently writing this statement to you is remarkable. To me, this essay is a physical manifestation of every hour I spent studying, every internship I applied for, every success I experienced throughout my academic and personal life. It is also a manifestation of the failures I endured during that first year of college. My desire to be an attorney is what fueled my dedication. The prospect of a career in law gave me the necessary kickstart I needed to overcome that failure. Still, whenever I was faced with the menacing “why do you want to be a lawyer” inquiry, my answer rested solely upon a general passion.
My answer began to change when I interned for a young attorney who singlehandedly managed her own employment discrimination law firm during the summer between my sophomore and junior year of college. Between the long hours spent bate-stamping documents, the research I performed to help relieve our clients, and the drawn-out mediations we attended, I discovered what it meant to be an attorney. I was intoxicated with both the mundane and the thrilling aspects of the legal system. It was in that period of time when I understood precisely why I wanted to be an attorney. I saw this revelation as a success that only my preceding failure could have lead me to.
The journey to becoming a champion softball player is incredibly similar to the journey to becoming a lawyer. We choose to discuss, almost exclusively, the successes of these journeys. Yet it’s so crucial to acknowledge the failures that often come before our successes, for our failures are what shape us into the individuals we are today. I truly believe that every defeat I previously endured was necessary in my quest to become an attorney. I look forward materializing these lessons into a successful career in both law school and beyond.

Hi Mady!

Thanks for posting your essay! I think you've taken the story you have here and done well with it I do think there are improvements to be made, so let's look at some of those:

First, I'd like to see a bit more personal detail in here. For example, you talk about the disappointment of flying out to end the game, and then say: "my failures from that year nearly broke me in the most fundamental way that a person can break." That is a great example of a "tell" sentence, because it tells me how you feel but doesn't show me, meaning the chance for a deeper connection is lost. It also invites questions as to what the fundamental break was, and in these essay you don't want unanswered questions. There are other spots like this (such as "I was intoxicated with both the mundane and the thrilling aspects of the legal system. It was in that period of time when I understood precisely why I wanted to be an attorney."), and I think they are opportunities to go deeper and connect with the reader more strongly.

Second, the balance on this seems slightly off between the first half and the second half. One thought I had was that perhaps you could lose most of the third paragraph or integrate it elsewhere, and then strengthen/expand the story of your internship for the young attorney (side note, it's "Bates" not "bate;" I know they are the bane of all existence). That might provide more balance while at the same time strengthening your story. Related to this, part of the reason I don't mind cuts to the third paragraph is that "general passion" is not a really compelling reason for the adcomms. It's too, well, general

Those are really the two big places I'd start with. You've written well in this draft, and you have some fine story elements here, now you just need to keep heading in that direction and take it up even another level.

I hope this helps, and good luck!