[Teenage dreams in a teenage circus]
Right! So! The last part of my NYU app has been finished. However, since I have no confidance in my writing at all, I figured I'd ask ya'll for your opinions.
Prompt:Introduce yourself. Describe an unforgettable event in your life and how it changed your perception of yourself or the view of someone close to you. This event can be dramatic and/or comedic. The assignment may be written as a short story in the first person or as an essay.
Sleigh Bells in First Period:
The Story of Santa Claus and the Pessimist
It would be hard to top the undeniably sour mood I was in on that Monday morning in mid-December. With final exams fast approaching, college application deadlines nipping at my toes like piranhas, and the tragic death of my dog two days prior, I had my mind firmly set on having an absolutely terrible day. Today was not for smiles and pleasantries; I planned on being as miserable as I could. I set a firm frown on my face and stepped out the door, immediately getting soaked with ice-cold rain. The forces of nature had apparently decided to contribute to my efforts, and chance had lost my umbrella. I almost smiled at just how perfectly terrible everything was, before remembering that that would completely defeat the point.
The bus ride to school helped with my mood as well, as I doubt any mood in the history of emotion has ever been helped by a school bus. Meeting up with my friends almost broke my stoicism, but I managed to suppress my smiles and replace them with icy glaring rage, refusing hugs and warm welcomes with a masterful technique. I skulked off to my first class of the day, my scowl scaring innocent freshmen along my path. Walking into the classroom, I slid into my chair and threw my backpack on the floor. The girl sitting in the desk to my right turned to me with a smile.
“How was your weekend?” she said, eyes shining. I glared in response. “Mine was great! I’m so glad school’s almost out.”
“Yeah.” I replied. I grabbed my backpack and flipped through my notebooks, trying to make it seem like I was busy. I was certainly in no mood to discuss my weekend.
“Good morning,” my teacher groaned, wandering into the room as the bell rang, clutching a mug of coffee as though it contained her life blood. The class groaned in response. At least I wasn’t the only one in a less-than-fantastic mood at seven in the morning. The teacher, who we students call “Fog”, set her coffee on her desk and turned to address the class.
“Today we’re going to work on your review sheets. You’re going to work on your review sheets anyway- or you won’t. It’s not my problem if you don’t do them, but if you don’t you’ll probably fail the final. So I suggest you do them.”
We all like Fog.
“While you’re doing them, or not, I’ll be grading your papers, so try to keep the noise level-“ A girl at the front of the class suddenly shot to her feet. Fog looked at her, puzzled.
“SANTA!!” the girl screamed at the top of her lungs, and bolted out of the room, almost knocking Fog over in the process. We could hear her footsteps slowly fade as she ran down the hallway. The classroom was completely still with shock, and even I had been forced to let my scowl drop out of pure confusion. Fog was the first one to break the silence.
“What in the world was…“ Before she could finish her sentence, her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. I followed her line of vision to the door. There, as though he had walked straight out of my childhood dreams, stood Santa Claus.
He laughed, and his belly jiggled like a bowl full of jelly. His eyes twinkled brightly behind a pair of thin, wire framed glasses, and his bushy hair and beard glowed white like untouched snow. I could have sworn that I was dreaming. I forgot for a moment that I was seventeen, no longer believed in Santa, and was determined to have one of the worst days of my life. All I wanted to do was jump up and down and scream like a little kid.
Santa looked around at the sea of delighted faces, his gaze eventually resting on a Korean boy in the back of the room. He pointed at him with one gloved hand, and started to speak to him.
In Korean.
The girl at the desk on my right gripped her desk in disbelief. I could hear her whisper, “His accent is perfect!” When Santa and the boy ended their short conversation, Fog walked over to him in a daze.
“How on earth did you do that?” she asked, filled with wonderment.
“Santa speaks all languages!” he answered, laughing jovially. He looked around at the rest of the students. “Now children, be sure to study hard so you won’t have to work hard when you’re old like Santa does! Merry Christmas!”
He waved, turned, and walked out the door. Through the stunned silence that followed, all that could be heard was the faint sound of sleigh bells.
For the rest of the day, I decided to abandon my plan to be miserable. I figured that, if the universe had gone through the trouble of bringing Santa to my first period class to balance out my horrible day, I just wasn’t meant to be a pessimist. It doesn’t matter that I later found out why there had been a Santa Claus walking around a high school, and why he knew how to speak perfect Korean; I’ll always remember that, even when you’re feeling like nothing could ever make you smile again, somehow you will be able to find a way.
Prompt:Introduce yourself. Describe an unforgettable event in your life and how it changed your perception of yourself or the view of someone close to you. This event can be dramatic and/or comedic. The assignment may be written as a short story in the first person or as an essay.
Sleigh Bells in First Period:
The Story of Santa Claus and the Pessimist
It would be hard to top the undeniably sour mood I was in on that Monday morning in mid-December. With final exams fast approaching, college application deadlines nipping at my toes like piranhas, and the tragic death of my dog two days prior, I had my mind firmly set on having an absolutely terrible day. Today was not for smiles and pleasantries; I planned on being as miserable as I could. I set a firm frown on my face and stepped out the door, immediately getting soaked with ice-cold rain. The forces of nature had apparently decided to contribute to my efforts, and chance had lost my umbrella. I almost smiled at just how perfectly terrible everything was, before remembering that that would completely defeat the point.
The bus ride to school helped with my mood as well, as I doubt any mood in the history of emotion has ever been helped by a school bus. Meeting up with my friends almost broke my stoicism, but I managed to suppress my smiles and replace them with icy glaring rage, refusing hugs and warm welcomes with a masterful technique. I skulked off to my first class of the day, my scowl scaring innocent freshmen along my path. Walking into the classroom, I slid into my chair and threw my backpack on the floor. The girl sitting in the desk to my right turned to me with a smile.
“How was your weekend?” she said, eyes shining. I glared in response. “Mine was great! I’m so glad school’s almost out.”
“Yeah.” I replied. I grabbed my backpack and flipped through my notebooks, trying to make it seem like I was busy. I was certainly in no mood to discuss my weekend.
“Good morning,” my teacher groaned, wandering into the room as the bell rang, clutching a mug of coffee as though it contained her life blood. The class groaned in response. At least I wasn’t the only one in a less-than-fantastic mood at seven in the morning. The teacher, who we students call “Fog”, set her coffee on her desk and turned to address the class.
“Today we’re going to work on your review sheets. You’re going to work on your review sheets anyway- or you won’t. It’s not my problem if you don’t do them, but if you don’t you’ll probably fail the final. So I suggest you do them.”
We all like Fog.
“While you’re doing them, or not, I’ll be grading your papers, so try to keep the noise level-“ A girl at the front of the class suddenly shot to her feet. Fog looked at her, puzzled.
“SANTA!!” the girl screamed at the top of her lungs, and bolted out of the room, almost knocking Fog over in the process. We could hear her footsteps slowly fade as she ran down the hallway. The classroom was completely still with shock, and even I had been forced to let my scowl drop out of pure confusion. Fog was the first one to break the silence.
“What in the world was…“ Before she could finish her sentence, her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. I followed her line of vision to the door. There, as though he had walked straight out of my childhood dreams, stood Santa Claus.
He laughed, and his belly jiggled like a bowl full of jelly. His eyes twinkled brightly behind a pair of thin, wire framed glasses, and his bushy hair and beard glowed white like untouched snow. I could have sworn that I was dreaming. I forgot for a moment that I was seventeen, no longer believed in Santa, and was determined to have one of the worst days of my life. All I wanted to do was jump up and down and scream like a little kid.
Santa looked around at the sea of delighted faces, his gaze eventually resting on a Korean boy in the back of the room. He pointed at him with one gloved hand, and started to speak to him.
In Korean.
The girl at the desk on my right gripped her desk in disbelief. I could hear her whisper, “His accent is perfect!” When Santa and the boy ended their short conversation, Fog walked over to him in a daze.
“How on earth did you do that?” she asked, filled with wonderment.
“Santa speaks all languages!” he answered, laughing jovially. He looked around at the rest of the students. “Now children, be sure to study hard so you won’t have to work hard when you’re old like Santa does! Merry Christmas!”
He waved, turned, and walked out the door. Through the stunned silence that followed, all that could be heard was the faint sound of sleigh bells.
For the rest of the day, I decided to abandon my plan to be miserable. I figured that, if the universe had gone through the trouble of bringing Santa to my first period class to balance out my horrible day, I just wasn’t meant to be a pessimist. It doesn’t matter that I later found out why there had been a Santa Claus walking around a high school, and why he knew how to speak perfect Korean; I’ll always remember that, even when you’re feeling like nothing could ever make you smile again, somehow you will be able to find a way.