Scholarship Essay Example
http://www.collegescholarships.com/application-essays/scholarship-essays
Example1
At 13, I was an ordinary teenage girl. I had my favorite movie stars, my secret crushes, and I probably ate too much chocolate. School mattered very little to me and learning even less. I worried about getting good grades in school but only to please my parents. My happy life consisted of sweet treats and even sweeter thoughts, an endless array of bite-sized banality. All that changed the summer of my 13th year, the year my older sister went away to college.
I idolized my older sister. She was five years older than me and my link to the shadowy world of adulthood that seemed so out of reach. When she went away, I was devastated. It was a very wet summer that year and one particularly rainy day, I was lying in her empty bed looking at the artifacts she'd left behind, clutching an old sweater. My eyes travelled around the room and came to rest on her bookshelf. For whatever reason, I picked one book up and began thumbing through it. It was Emile Zola's Germinal and it was to change my life forever.
Germinal woke me up from my slumber. I began to see the world around me, to look at it with new eyes. I always thought things like poverty, greed and injustice happened elsewhere, to people that more or less deserved it. But the more I read about Etienne, Catherine, and the Vandame mine, the more I began to realize the universal nature of suffering. This is part of what makes Zola's novel a great work of art. It has the power to change the way you think while also being beautiful. I realized that there were actually striking miners in my own state. I then became an avid reader of newspapers and current events. I held a bake sale outside my school for the families of the miners. I didn't raise that much money but it felt good to at least to be doing something.
The affect Germinal had on me was not just limited to social awareness. I also became more aware of other literature, history, and art. I read other Zola novels which led me to discover Balzac and his wonderful books such as the sweet sad tale of Pere Goriot. I also became interested in the French Revolution in order to find out how the month of Germinal came to get its name. When I learned that the young Zola was a early champion and admirer of Monet and the Impressionists, I began to notice art for the first time.
Now that I am getting ready for college, I feel the effect that Germinal had on me more than ever. I've read it three times since I first discovered it and each time I seem to learn new things. It isn't just that I have a pet rabbit named Poland or that I have a pen-pal who is an orphaned miner's daughter. It goes much deeper than that. Germinal has changed the way I look at myself and the world around me. No other book has done that.
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Scholarship Essay Example 2As we sped down the highway, the quiet and calming hum of the car seemed somehow at odds with the late-summer lushness of the Pennsylvania landscape. Without warning this quiet calm was shattered when my Uncle Alex yelled, “Firsts!”
“Uh, military railroads”, I mumbled, drawing myself out of a sleepy reverie.
“A working submarine”, Alex countered quickly.
“Hospital ships.”
“Flame throwers.”
Back and forth we went. We were playing one of our many Civil War word games. This one consisted of calling out all of the many things that the Civil War saw the first instance of. It was a great way to pass time when on a long road trip. I remember this particular trip with such clarity for two reasons. One was that we were on our way to visit Wheatland, the home of James Buchanan, a destination that I had been looking forward to for some time. The second reason is that the very next day was my birthday. I was turning eight.
I suppose for most children it would have seemed strange to be spending their birthday at the former home of a pre-Civil War president. To me it only seemed like a long-awaited treat. My Uncle Alex was an amateur Civil War historian with an infectious love of learning. Alex's sickness took the form of believing that late 19th century American history was more exciting and more worthy of our attention than any other period of human existence. It would prove to be an illness that soon held me under it's spell also. It all started when Alex bought me an Abraham Lincoln action figure for my 4th birthday. I remember unwrapping the gift paper, revealing the strange gaunt figure as my Uncle described to me in hushed tones who this man was and what he had done for our country. The real gift that Alex gave me over the years, however, was that he never acted as if it were odd for a young boy to have a keen interest in history. Because staying up late debating whether or not Stonewall Jackson was a hypochondriac was treated as perfectly normal, perfectly normal it became.
Looking back, I first remember thinking about what I would later realize was ethics or morals in relation to Robert E. Lee and his decision to support his home state of Virginia against the Union. My first contemplation of death took place after reading the correspondence of a young Union soldier who was shot and killed at Manassas before his younger bride ever received his letter. In short, my entire awareness has been shaped and influenced by my Uncle Alex's colorful pedagogy. I don't know what my life would have been without his influence but it certainly would have been different. I'm grateful that I shall never know.
Uncle Alex didn't just teach me about a period of history. He taught me about life. He taught me the power of opening young minds to the mystery of knowledge. Most importantly, he taught me how to live life with excitement and passion. They are lessons I shall never forget.
This scholarship essay question (Who has been the most influential person in your life?) is a common scholarship prompt. The example posted here is a winning scholarship submission that deals effectively and affectionately with the question.
xxxxx
Scholarship Essay Example 3On March 12 of last year, my mother informed my brother and I that she had cancer. I remember the setting with such clarity and precision that it seems somehow unreal: a figment of an overactive imagination. It was an early Spring day, unseasonably warm and bright. The birds in our backyard seemed chirpier than ever. It was one of those days when the world seems waiting to be reborn. The promise and potential of the day and the season only served to heighten the unreality of what my mother was trying to convey.
“I have ovarian cancer and unfortunately, it's metastasized out of my ovaries into...” I couldn't even hear the rest. Cancer? Metastasized? What did these words even mean? How could this be? Why? My mom was in her mid-40's and while that seemed ancient to me, I knew it was way too young to have cancer. I had a lot to learn.
It wasn't just my mom's age that made this disease seem impossible; it was her vitality, her sense of life. In addition to working as a librarian for our city library, she also wrote poetry and volunteered with a local literacy program, teaching adults to read. And she was the glue that held our family together. I knew my dad loved us, but he's a flake. He was either at work or talking and thinking about work. And my pint-sized younger brother? Worse than useless. What was going to become of us? These were the thoughts echoing in my head as I drifted back to what my mother was saying. Even now I blush at my selfishness.
“...and there are new treatments and medicines being discovered all the time. So there's no need to start worrying. We'll get through this...” I looked at my brother and tears were streaming down his face. As if being given permission, I also started crying. My mom joined in and soon we were huddled together: a frightened, sad and confused mound of humanity.
That was about a year and a half ago. My mom is still with us. She is getting ready to begin a new experimental chemo treatment. The family lexicon has been enlarged by many new words and much new medical terminology – knowledge I wouldn't wish on anyone. Our family is holding up surprisingly well. Instead of being flaky or worse than useless, my dad and brother have been strong and supportive. This experience without them is completely unimaginable.
Finally, I turn to why I want to go to college. I need to go to college so that I can continue to grow, mature and learn. I need to go to college so that one day I can be an adult capable of strength in the face of adversity, capable of giving back to the community, capable of being an example to others as my mom is to me. I don't expect the college experience to magically transform me into a wise and all-knowing adult. But I am relying on it to help me explore the world of ideas. Armed with this knowledge, I may then be capable of emulating the strongest, most courageous person I know, my mom.
xxxxx
Scholarship Essay Example 4Ever since I was a kid, I have always wanted to do something important. I wanted to be the childhood figures I’d seen in cartoons, like Pocahontas. I wanted to be as caring and understanding as Snow White. I wanted to change lives like Mulan. When you’re a kid, everything seems easy, the world is at your feet, and you have this mindset that when you get older you can do anything. Now that I am older, nothing is simple, the world seems out of reach, and I know life isn’t boundless but has many limits. There are times when I wish I could be a kid again, if only for a few minutes. I could go back to the time when my parents sheltered me from the harsh realities you face growing up. I can remember the point in my life where I wasn’t a kid anymore, when a lot of things changed, and I gained perspective on life.
I was fourteen when I found out my mother had a tumor. My parents threw around big words like benign and malignant. My mind immediately went back to my eighth grade health class when we learned about our bodies and medical terms, as well as the circulatory system and benign and malignant tumors. The type of stuff I never thought would apply to me. The words benign or malignant meant either nothing to worry about or cancer. Knowing this at age fourteen was like getting a punch to the stomach.
The idea that my mother could potentially have cancer seemed impossible. It wasn’t real to me. It became very real the day she had the tumor removed. I remember I got to skip school and drive to the hospital with my family. As the doctor described what was going to happen to my mother, I had the impulse to cover my ears, close my eyes, and pretend it was all a bad dream. I told myself to be strong as my mother headed back with a nurse to a place the rest of our family couldn’t go. I sat in the waiting room under bright fluorescent lights, crossing my fingers, hoping everything would be okay. I can still feel the goosebumps that covered my skin. After a few hours, it was all over. They had completely removed it, and everything went as planned.
When I finally saw my mother, it was a relief, followed by a pain in my stomach. She was covered in bandages with a pale face and unfocused eyes. I had never seen my mother so weak and vulnerable. I was terrified. When we got home, there was a phone call. The tumor was malignant. My mother had cancer.
The tumor was rare, and in most cases, reappears or spreads to the lymphatic system. I read all I could find online. I was so scared. With a busy father and two siblings, what would our family do without her? I knew my dad would fall apart, my brother was just too young, and my sister was never reliable. I knew I would have to hold everything together if she left our lives because there was nobody else. I would have to juggle all the pieces.
She wasn’t supposed to be left alone. Someone always had to be around in case something would happen. My father had to work to provide food and pay the bills. My brother, sister, and I had school, but I volunteered to stay home. I skipped two weeks of school to watch over my mother. I was there to keep her company. I brought her tall glasses of water, along with her medication. I made her food and at night I slept in the living room with her. I was anxious that, at any minute, something would go wrong. Soon enough, she started to get her color back. She started getting up and was in less pain. She pulled through.
After the radiation and a few MRI’s, everything almost went back to normal. The thing is, when I went back to school, I didn’t care about it anymore. I became utterly apathetic in my classes. I’d just space out. On the nights I was supposed to be doing homework, I always found something else to do.
School became unimportant. I didn’t see the point anymore in trying. School was always the second priority. I barely scraped by but managed to score well on tests. Not only did I not try, but I stopped going to school as much. The amount of times I was absent made my guidance counselor’s mouth drop. I have spent my high school career messing around and not taking anything seriously. I didn’t set goals so that I wouldn’t disappoint myself. Now that it counts and it matters, I regret not taking the time to do my homework, or turn my projects in on time, because those little things could have greatly changed my chances of getting into a good college. The little decisions I made completely altered my chances of a college career.
I am not saying my high school existence was a complete waste. I did learn. I had great experiences as well as atrocious ones. I made mistakes and poor choices that I learned from, as well as good decisions that I am proud of. Life has its ups and downs. Through it all, I managed to make friends who I know will always be there and I am closer with my family than ever. I have been consistently on a swim team since I was eight and am one of the best swimmers at ________ ________ High. I have achieved multiple art awards. I have regrets that I know I can’t take back or change, so I focus on the present.
Right now, my focus is on getting into college; not only to make a good future for myself, but for my mother, to make her proud instead of disappointed.
All my life I have wanted that Cinderella happy ending, I have wanted to try on that glass slipper and have it fit perfectly. That’s what I am hoping for in college. I want a chance to help make the world a better place,the opportunity to make a difference, and the privilege of having more than a high school diploma.
http://www.collegescholarships.com/application-essays/scholarship-essays
Example1
At 13, I was an ordinary teenage girl. I had my favorite movie stars, my secret crushes, and I probably ate too much chocolate. School mattered very little to me and learning even less. I worried about getting good grades in school but only to please my parents. My happy life consisted of sweet treats and even sweeter thoughts, an endless array of bite-sized banality. All that changed the summer of my 13th year, the year my older sister went away to college.
I idolized my older sister. She was five years older than me and my link to the shadowy world of adulthood that seemed so out of reach. When she went away, I was devastated. It was a very wet summer that year and one particularly rainy day, I was lying in her empty bed looking at the artifacts she'd left behind, clutching an old sweater. My eyes travelled around the room and came to rest on her bookshelf. For whatever reason, I picked one book up and began thumbing through it. It was Emile Zola's Germinal and it was to change my life forever.
Germinal woke me up from my slumber. I began to see the world around me, to look at it with new eyes. I always thought things like poverty, greed and injustice happened elsewhere, to people that more or less deserved it. But the more I read about Etienne, Catherine, and the Vandame mine, the more I began to realize the universal nature of suffering. This is part of what makes Zola's novel a great work of art. It has the power to change the way you think while also being beautiful. I realized that there were actually striking miners in my own state. I then became an avid reader of newspapers and current events. I held a bake sale outside my school for the families of the miners. I didn't raise that much money but it felt good to at least to be doing something.
The affect Germinal had on me was not just limited to social awareness. I also became more aware of other literature, history, and art. I read other Zola novels which led me to discover Balzac and his wonderful books such as the sweet sad tale of Pere Goriot. I also became interested in the French Revolution in order to find out how the month of Germinal came to get its name. When I learned that the young Zola was a early champion and admirer of Monet and the Impressionists, I began to notice art for the first time.
Now that I am getting ready for college, I feel the effect that Germinal had on me more than ever. I've read it three times since I first discovered it and each time I seem to learn new things. It isn't just that I have a pet rabbit named Poland or that I have a pen-pal who is an orphaned miner's daughter. It goes much deeper than that. Germinal has changed the way I look at myself and the world around me. No other book has done that.
----------
-----------
Scholarship Essay Example 2As we sped down the highway, the quiet and calming hum of the car seemed somehow at odds with the late-summer lushness of the Pennsylvania landscape. Without warning this quiet calm was shattered when my Uncle Alex yelled, “Firsts!”
“Uh, military railroads”, I mumbled, drawing myself out of a sleepy reverie.
“A working submarine”, Alex countered quickly.
“Hospital ships.”
“Flame throwers.”
Back and forth we went. We were playing one of our many Civil War word games. This one consisted of calling out all of the many things that the Civil War saw the first instance of. It was a great way to pass time when on a long road trip. I remember this particular trip with such clarity for two reasons. One was that we were on our way to visit Wheatland, the home of James Buchanan, a destination that I had been looking forward to for some time. The second reason is that the very next day was my birthday. I was turning eight.
I suppose for most children it would have seemed strange to be spending their birthday at the former home of a pre-Civil War president. To me it only seemed like a long-awaited treat. My Uncle Alex was an amateur Civil War historian with an infectious love of learning. Alex's sickness took the form of believing that late 19th century American history was more exciting and more worthy of our attention than any other period of human existence. It would prove to be an illness that soon held me under it's spell also. It all started when Alex bought me an Abraham Lincoln action figure for my 4th birthday. I remember unwrapping the gift paper, revealing the strange gaunt figure as my Uncle described to me in hushed tones who this man was and what he had done for our country. The real gift that Alex gave me over the years, however, was that he never acted as if it were odd for a young boy to have a keen interest in history. Because staying up late debating whether or not Stonewall Jackson was a hypochondriac was treated as perfectly normal, perfectly normal it became.
Looking back, I first remember thinking about what I would later realize was ethics or morals in relation to Robert E. Lee and his decision to support his home state of Virginia against the Union. My first contemplation of death took place after reading the correspondence of a young Union soldier who was shot and killed at Manassas before his younger bride ever received his letter. In short, my entire awareness has been shaped and influenced by my Uncle Alex's colorful pedagogy. I don't know what my life would have been without his influence but it certainly would have been different. I'm grateful that I shall never know.
Uncle Alex didn't just teach me about a period of history. He taught me about life. He taught me the power of opening young minds to the mystery of knowledge. Most importantly, he taught me how to live life with excitement and passion. They are lessons I shall never forget.
This scholarship essay question (Who has been the most influential person in your life?) is a common scholarship prompt. The example posted here is a winning scholarship submission that deals effectively and affectionately with the question.
xxxxx
Scholarship Essay Example 3On March 12 of last year, my mother informed my brother and I that she had cancer. I remember the setting with such clarity and precision that it seems somehow unreal: a figment of an overactive imagination. It was an early Spring day, unseasonably warm and bright. The birds in our backyard seemed chirpier than ever. It was one of those days when the world seems waiting to be reborn. The promise and potential of the day and the season only served to heighten the unreality of what my mother was trying to convey.
“I have ovarian cancer and unfortunately, it's metastasized out of my ovaries into...” I couldn't even hear the rest. Cancer? Metastasized? What did these words even mean? How could this be? Why? My mom was in her mid-40's and while that seemed ancient to me, I knew it was way too young to have cancer. I had a lot to learn.
It wasn't just my mom's age that made this disease seem impossible; it was her vitality, her sense of life. In addition to working as a librarian for our city library, she also wrote poetry and volunteered with a local literacy program, teaching adults to read. And she was the glue that held our family together. I knew my dad loved us, but he's a flake. He was either at work or talking and thinking about work. And my pint-sized younger brother? Worse than useless. What was going to become of us? These were the thoughts echoing in my head as I drifted back to what my mother was saying. Even now I blush at my selfishness.
“...and there are new treatments and medicines being discovered all the time. So there's no need to start worrying. We'll get through this...” I looked at my brother and tears were streaming down his face. As if being given permission, I also started crying. My mom joined in and soon we were huddled together: a frightened, sad and confused mound of humanity.
That was about a year and a half ago. My mom is still with us. She is getting ready to begin a new experimental chemo treatment. The family lexicon has been enlarged by many new words and much new medical terminology – knowledge I wouldn't wish on anyone. Our family is holding up surprisingly well. Instead of being flaky or worse than useless, my dad and brother have been strong and supportive. This experience without them is completely unimaginable.
Finally, I turn to why I want to go to college. I need to go to college so that I can continue to grow, mature and learn. I need to go to college so that one day I can be an adult capable of strength in the face of adversity, capable of giving back to the community, capable of being an example to others as my mom is to me. I don't expect the college experience to magically transform me into a wise and all-knowing adult. But I am relying on it to help me explore the world of ideas. Armed with this knowledge, I may then be capable of emulating the strongest, most courageous person I know, my mom.
xxxxx
Scholarship Essay Example 4Ever since I was a kid, I have always wanted to do something important. I wanted to be the childhood figures I’d seen in cartoons, like Pocahontas. I wanted to be as caring and understanding as Snow White. I wanted to change lives like Mulan. When you’re a kid, everything seems easy, the world is at your feet, and you have this mindset that when you get older you can do anything. Now that I am older, nothing is simple, the world seems out of reach, and I know life isn’t boundless but has many limits. There are times when I wish I could be a kid again, if only for a few minutes. I could go back to the time when my parents sheltered me from the harsh realities you face growing up. I can remember the point in my life where I wasn’t a kid anymore, when a lot of things changed, and I gained perspective on life.
I was fourteen when I found out my mother had a tumor. My parents threw around big words like benign and malignant. My mind immediately went back to my eighth grade health class when we learned about our bodies and medical terms, as well as the circulatory system and benign and malignant tumors. The type of stuff I never thought would apply to me. The words benign or malignant meant either nothing to worry about or cancer. Knowing this at age fourteen was like getting a punch to the stomach.
The idea that my mother could potentially have cancer seemed impossible. It wasn’t real to me. It became very real the day she had the tumor removed. I remember I got to skip school and drive to the hospital with my family. As the doctor described what was going to happen to my mother, I had the impulse to cover my ears, close my eyes, and pretend it was all a bad dream. I told myself to be strong as my mother headed back with a nurse to a place the rest of our family couldn’t go. I sat in the waiting room under bright fluorescent lights, crossing my fingers, hoping everything would be okay. I can still feel the goosebumps that covered my skin. After a few hours, it was all over. They had completely removed it, and everything went as planned.
When I finally saw my mother, it was a relief, followed by a pain in my stomach. She was covered in bandages with a pale face and unfocused eyes. I had never seen my mother so weak and vulnerable. I was terrified. When we got home, there was a phone call. The tumor was malignant. My mother had cancer.
The tumor was rare, and in most cases, reappears or spreads to the lymphatic system. I read all I could find online. I was so scared. With a busy father and two siblings, what would our family do without her? I knew my dad would fall apart, my brother was just too young, and my sister was never reliable. I knew I would have to hold everything together if she left our lives because there was nobody else. I would have to juggle all the pieces.
She wasn’t supposed to be left alone. Someone always had to be around in case something would happen. My father had to work to provide food and pay the bills. My brother, sister, and I had school, but I volunteered to stay home. I skipped two weeks of school to watch over my mother. I was there to keep her company. I brought her tall glasses of water, along with her medication. I made her food and at night I slept in the living room with her. I was anxious that, at any minute, something would go wrong. Soon enough, she started to get her color back. She started getting up and was in less pain. She pulled through.
After the radiation and a few MRI’s, everything almost went back to normal. The thing is, when I went back to school, I didn’t care about it anymore. I became utterly apathetic in my classes. I’d just space out. On the nights I was supposed to be doing homework, I always found something else to do.
School became unimportant. I didn’t see the point anymore in trying. School was always the second priority. I barely scraped by but managed to score well on tests. Not only did I not try, but I stopped going to school as much. The amount of times I was absent made my guidance counselor’s mouth drop. I have spent my high school career messing around and not taking anything seriously. I didn’t set goals so that I wouldn’t disappoint myself. Now that it counts and it matters, I regret not taking the time to do my homework, or turn my projects in on time, because those little things could have greatly changed my chances of getting into a good college. The little decisions I made completely altered my chances of a college career.
I am not saying my high school existence was a complete waste. I did learn. I had great experiences as well as atrocious ones. I made mistakes and poor choices that I learned from, as well as good decisions that I am proud of. Life has its ups and downs. Through it all, I managed to make friends who I know will always be there and I am closer with my family than ever. I have been consistently on a swim team since I was eight and am one of the best swimmers at ________ ________ High. I have achieved multiple art awards. I have regrets that I know I can’t take back or change, so I focus on the present.
Right now, my focus is on getting into college; not only to make a good future for myself, but for my mother, to make her proud instead of disappointed.
All my life I have wanted that Cinderella happy ending, I have wanted to try on that glass slipper and have it fit perfectly. That’s what I am hoping for in college. I want a chance to help make the world a better place,the opportunity to make a difference, and the privilege of having more than a high school diploma.