- Posts: 3
- Joined: May 14, 2014
- Mon May 19, 2014 1:18 pm
#14765
I went ahead and made some changes based on the observations some of you provided, but I also felt I left a big part of my childhood out which I included here. Thoughts/Comments would be greatly appreciated!
Personal Statement
Family is what shaped and molded me into the person that I am today. We didn’t have money growing up, but we were very rich with love. I grew up in a one-story two-bedroom house with 7 siblings and 2 parents. I was the youngest. Between the ages of 8-10, we lived in Lebanon. It wasn’t the nice part of Lebanon where the rich or even the middle class lived; it was a refugee camp, Nahr El Bared, where electricity was a luxury that would work once every three days. Getting to school was a 45 minute walk, which included jumping fences, evading rabid dogs, and occasionally sneaking past young ambitious Lebanese soldiers who thought it was funny to scare children with their weapons. This was daily, and the routes were always filled with obstacles that may or may not have prevented us from getting to school that day. Even the gunshots that were routinely heard never forced me to scamper away from school.
I was trekking home from school one day when I was stopped by a group of teenagers. They surrounded me and began interrogating me, demanding what was in my pocket. I began to talk with them, asked them if they curious about me or just wanted what was in my pocket. I began to make them laugh, told them interesting stories about America, and gave them life advice that I felt they would value more than the pocket change I had. I used every word in my vocabulary to try to talk my way out of this situation, and I did. My words had saved me, proven by departure with my pockets still rattling with change.
This was a refugee camp, where nothing is stable. Even as a 10 year old, I became very aware of this when I started spending my afternoons with my uncle. My uncle was the mayor of this refugee camp, dealing with various issues such as, family feuds, low morale, crime, and even legal issues. There was no courtroom, police, or authority, so he had to single handedly deal with the task of providing justice and impartiality to these already impoverished people. He didn’t have a law degree or a college degree, yet the people accepted his word and decision as a just one. The amount of responsibility my uncle accepted was tremendous and humbling. This is where it all began for me, understanding the power of helping people through mediation and neutrality.
At the age of 16, I was given the opportunity to work in my two brother’s law office, where they are currently working as corporate and defense attorneys. I would file papers for them, get them coffee, and keep track of office supplies. But I couldn’t help but observe and listen to clients come in, frantic about issues they have with the law. They didn’t know anything and needed answers. I remember feeling nothing but compassion and empathy for them, yet I couldn’t help them. I became mesmerized watching my brothers give them peace of mind and ensuring them that they would be taken care of. They now had the trust of these people and the responsibility of the outcome of their cases. I remember thinking how badly I wanted that trust and responsibility. I didn’t want to settle for anything else.
After receiving my accounting degree from the University of Houston, I was immediately sought by a company and hired within 2 weeks of graduating. Day after day, for two years straight, I would put on the same type of clothes, drive the same route, sit at the same desk, in the same corner, and analyze the same numbers with nothing to question or think about. There were no ideas or issues to help resolve. There was nothing unique about this job and I was bored with every minute of it, but I knew it was a means to an end. I tolerated going through the worst 2 years of my life, for the simple fact that I couldn’t wait to enter the best years of my life, law school. Finally, the day was here, December 26, 2014, I had achieved my financial quota for law school, and was ready to leave. I had a steady job, good compensation with potential to make a good career, yet without hesitation I walked right into the office of my superior and told them that I would be moving on to greater things. I was nothing but smiles.
Quitting my job was the easiest decision of my life. I couldn’t help but think of my time in the law office watching and observing people come in with confusion and fear, only to have those feelings lifted by relief and trust from attorneys. I couldn’t help but think of watching my uncle with no background whatsoever as a lawyer be an impartial mediator and consultant for people with legal issues and life problems in a refugee camp. He had the responsibility of people’s lives in his hands and accepted it with a great moral compass and ethical behavior. But all of these complex memories and experiences are really morphed into one simple and honest feeling and idea I had, which is I want to practice law and help people doing it. For I want nothing more than one day to look people in the eyes and say “I can help you”.
Personal Statement
Family is what shaped and molded me into the person that I am today. We didn’t have money growing up, but we were very rich with love. I grew up in a one-story two-bedroom house with 7 siblings and 2 parents. I was the youngest. Between the ages of 8-10, we lived in Lebanon. It wasn’t the nice part of Lebanon where the rich or even the middle class lived; it was a refugee camp, Nahr El Bared, where electricity was a luxury that would work once every three days. Getting to school was a 45 minute walk, which included jumping fences, evading rabid dogs, and occasionally sneaking past young ambitious Lebanese soldiers who thought it was funny to scare children with their weapons. This was daily, and the routes were always filled with obstacles that may or may not have prevented us from getting to school that day. Even the gunshots that were routinely heard never forced me to scamper away from school.
I was trekking home from school one day when I was stopped by a group of teenagers. They surrounded me and began interrogating me, demanding what was in my pocket. I began to talk with them, asked them if they curious about me or just wanted what was in my pocket. I began to make them laugh, told them interesting stories about America, and gave them life advice that I felt they would value more than the pocket change I had. I used every word in my vocabulary to try to talk my way out of this situation, and I did. My words had saved me, proven by departure with my pockets still rattling with change.
This was a refugee camp, where nothing is stable. Even as a 10 year old, I became very aware of this when I started spending my afternoons with my uncle. My uncle was the mayor of this refugee camp, dealing with various issues such as, family feuds, low morale, crime, and even legal issues. There was no courtroom, police, or authority, so he had to single handedly deal with the task of providing justice and impartiality to these already impoverished people. He didn’t have a law degree or a college degree, yet the people accepted his word and decision as a just one. The amount of responsibility my uncle accepted was tremendous and humbling. This is where it all began for me, understanding the power of helping people through mediation and neutrality.
At the age of 16, I was given the opportunity to work in my two brother’s law office, where they are currently working as corporate and defense attorneys. I would file papers for them, get them coffee, and keep track of office supplies. But I couldn’t help but observe and listen to clients come in, frantic about issues they have with the law. They didn’t know anything and needed answers. I remember feeling nothing but compassion and empathy for them, yet I couldn’t help them. I became mesmerized watching my brothers give them peace of mind and ensuring them that they would be taken care of. They now had the trust of these people and the responsibility of the outcome of their cases. I remember thinking how badly I wanted that trust and responsibility. I didn’t want to settle for anything else.
After receiving my accounting degree from the University of Houston, I was immediately sought by a company and hired within 2 weeks of graduating. Day after day, for two years straight, I would put on the same type of clothes, drive the same route, sit at the same desk, in the same corner, and analyze the same numbers with nothing to question or think about. There were no ideas or issues to help resolve. There was nothing unique about this job and I was bored with every minute of it, but I knew it was a means to an end. I tolerated going through the worst 2 years of my life, for the simple fact that I couldn’t wait to enter the best years of my life, law school. Finally, the day was here, December 26, 2014, I had achieved my financial quota for law school, and was ready to leave. I had a steady job, good compensation with potential to make a good career, yet without hesitation I walked right into the office of my superior and told them that I would be moving on to greater things. I was nothing but smiles.
Quitting my job was the easiest decision of my life. I couldn’t help but think of my time in the law office watching and observing people come in with confusion and fear, only to have those feelings lifted by relief and trust from attorneys. I couldn’t help but think of watching my uncle with no background whatsoever as a lawyer be an impartial mediator and consultant for people with legal issues and life problems in a refugee camp. He had the responsibility of people’s lives in his hands and accepted it with a great moral compass and ethical behavior. But all of these complex memories and experiences are really morphed into one simple and honest feeling and idea I had, which is I want to practice law and help people doing it. For I want nothing more than one day to look people in the eyes and say “I can help you”.
Perhaps you meant 2013?