My one quality…

If my essay were to emphasize and focus on one quality, it would be empathy.

Merriam Webster definition of empathy: “the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner; also : the capacity for this”

It’s strange to be at the end of my college years. Some of my friends (a lot of them actually) are science majors. My boyfriend is taking cancer biology this semester, and I sat in on one of the classes just to see what it was like. It was overwhelming; I couldn’t even pretend to follow the lecture. I will never be a scientist, and as people learn chemistry and biology in order to one day be able to use their knowledge of the body in med school, I feel like my strengths are nothing to do with something I learned in a book.

I’m a political science major and a journalism minor. Yes, I do know my own set of specific things. Instead of anatomy or how cancer spreads, I can tell you things about the 2000 election and the butterfly ballot in Florida. I’m learning now in my criminal due process class about the 4^th, 5^th, 6^th and 8^th amendments and in what situations police officers can enter our homes without a warrant.

Above all though, the one thing I want to emphasize on my application is no technical knowledge like this. Instead, I’ve learned over my course here that I not only enjoy but am good at talking to people, at empathizing with them. All of the things I’ve done inside and outside the classroom have reflected this. I’m happiest when I’m helping someone else, whether it  be talking through their feelings or just chatting. I could never have a job where I’m in a cubicle all day. I would absolutely hate it. I want this to come across in my essay—I am good at empathizing with people. I want my essay to help me illustrate my desire to spend my life helping different groups within our population that need help, and my ability to succeed at this.

One of my most meaningful experiences on this campus has been a job I’ve had for three years. My first summer, during training my boss drew a picture on the board—a stick figure. She then drew a hole around him, showing that he was stuck and needed help. She asked for a volunteer to draw where we would want to be in the picture in order to help him. The girl who went up to the board drew exactly what I was thinking—she drew herself standing at the top, reaching down to help him. My boss then said this would have been sympathy. She erased it and redrew our stick figure inside the hole, next to the other one. This moment is when I first thought about the difference she was illustrating—the difference between sympathy and empathy.I feel like being able to empathize with someone is essential when trying to help them. Sympathy can be condesending. Empathy puts you at the same level with everyone around you.

I feel like I’m rambling a little at this point, but I guess that’s some background on when I first realized how important empathy is. I thought about law school for a while, but after a lot of research and talking to family members who practice law, it didn’t feel right with me. I had thought before about social work, but then when I heard someone describe it as giving a voice to the voiceless, something resonated and I knew that it would be perfect for me.

The Personal Statement I Would Never Write

I have no back up plan right now. If I don’t get admitted into UNC- Chapel Hill, my next plan of action is… undecided. I understand the acceptance rate is only about 8% for the Sports Administration program, but I still expect to be one of the nine students that are accepted annually. Or maybe I am just afraid to even think I won’t be accepted. I literally plan on only applying to one school for next fall. It’s the only one I found in the country that fits what I am looking for. Maybe I should spend some more time researching. Yeah, I guess if I don’t get admitted I will start working in the “real world” and then apply again next year or pursue an MBA after I get some work experience under my belt. That is a scary thought though. Who is going to want me to work for them already? I barely have any work experience because of my dedication to football and I still feel like a little kid in my head. If UNC doesn’t accept me, I won’t reach my goals.. there’s no way. I will get stuck doing something I don’t love. Please accept me because I am desperate and do not know what I will do otherwise, thank you.

A Catch-Up

It has been a long time since I have posted in this blog, and for that I apologise. I have never been good at committing to a thing, to doing it day in and day out. I will get passionate about something and do it for a week or two and then, when the week is out, I have moved on to a new toy and the old passion has become a chore.

But I’m going to try to list a few thoughts about the various readings we’ve done.

Anne Sexton’s “Resume 1965” puts me in mind of Sherlock Holmes’ quote in the first episode of the recent BBC series Sherlock: “I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for hours on end. would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” Perhaps Anne Sexton is operating under that principle–if you know the worst about me and still hire me, then perhaps we are a good match as employer and employee.

Natalia Ginsburg’s piece makes me sad. Perhaps she describes all their differences and arguments with a tone of fondness, but I kept thinking that I couldn’t see myself with someone like that, someone who would make fun of me for the things that I am not able to do or for the way I do things. I can’t tell if she truly loves him or if she is resigned to life with him. Perhaps it’s more complicated than that, after so many years together. I want someone who would cherish our differences and it seems that Ginsburg does cherish the differences between herself and her husband but the way she describes it, it doesn’t seem that he reciprocates. Of course this essay is not the whole picture. I’m certain I am being too hard on him. It just rubs me the wrong way somehow.

When it comes to Andre Dubus’ “Digging”, I am struck by the poignancy of it. I find myself just this painfully shy with my grandparents. I don’t know how to talk to them or to listen to them. I found it interesting that Dubus made certain to separate out his fear of his father from his shyness with his father. I think that’s important… they are quite different things and when one is not caused by the other, you must deal with them separately. The imagery, the physical descriptions in the essay, were so clear and so vibrant and vivid that I felt that I was there with him under that burning sun, getting heat stroke (though he never uses the word), feeling my arms getting weaker with every moment. I’m glad that Dubus and his father came to an understanding with each other, though it took years. I think it has to take years for children to understand their parents and vice versa. Only when you’re all adults can you talk on an equal footing. This is a little rambly. I think I’ll stop now.

Dig & You’ll find…

I wise man once told me that if I weren’t able to handle it, I would not have been put through it.

I was moved Andre Dubus’ “Digging”. He goes through such experiences but never gives up and I respect that he doesn’t go against his Father’s. Not only did I enjoy the theme/moral of the essay, but I also enjoyed the rich context.

My favorite line must have been when Dubus looks up to find his father. “I looked up at him: he was here to take me home, to forgive my failure, and in my great relief I could not know that I would not be able to forgive it. I was going home. But he said: ‘Lets go buy you a hat’.” This was an incredible line from this essay. It portrays how a father can push his son, with or without understanding his pain.

It warmed me when I realized how Dubus put his family’s thoughts and his father’s feelings superior than his own self-esteem. Although he didn’t like his helmet, he still wore it because didn’t want to offend his father.

Dubus’ self-discovery, showing gratitude to his father, learning that hard work pays off and gives one his earned status was an ideal conclusion.

Dubus’ essay reminded me a lot of my dad, how he implicitly makes me do things so I can gain a different experience, how he encourages me. When I feel weak, my father often asks “Do you want to give up?” Those words make me stand up and continue. It is not about the disappointment that I may bring him, but more than craving praise, I like to satisfy myself. In order to be respected, you have to work hard and earn it. I look forward to this every time I feel like I can’t move on. This is the reason I don’t give up.

~Farzana

Digging with Dubus

In the piece “Digging” Andrew Dubus writes of the relationship he had with his father, and how the job his father pushed him to have the summer he turned seventeen helped him become a man. I thought this piece was a good example of a personal piece because of the way Dubus zooms in and out. He discussed the experience and lessons learned from the job, but between that he also writes portrait like descriptions of his father. He connects the things his father helped him learn to the general relationship between them.

I think some of the realizations Dubus comes to are ones that we can all relate to.  He talks about wanting to spend time with his friends, but not being able to say no to work his father asked him to do. He wants to have a carefree summer looking at girls and chatting with friends, but his father keeps him busy doing little jobs. It is only later that he is thankful for this time spent with his dad; it allowed a sense of understanding between them. Even though he was shy and some of the time spent together was in silence, they still understood each other. His dad admitted years later that he always worried about him and knew he was painfully shy, but I think this is why he pushed him to get that labor-intensive job. I like this incorporation of little flashes to their future relationship woven in with the author’s past memory.

I like that he thanks his father at the end. He realizes that on that tough day one of work, his father did him a favor by not taking him home and babying him. He was still nurturing and that’s why he took him to get food and a helmet, but he brought him back so he could be one of the guys.

I think we could all point to realizations like the one Dubus had. There are things our parents sometimes force us into over the course of our adolescence. I whined about going to Sunday school as a child  but looking back it was less about the religion and time spent learning prayers but more about spending the afternoon with my family and the time we would spend together after my class. I liked this piece a lot because I think it was a great mix of thoughts on the job, his father, what he learned and how he grew from the experience. He wove all of the information together in a cohesive, story type way and I felt like I learned about the author and his family.

Straw Hat

Andre Dubus’s “Digging” reminds me of a little boy trying to seek this father’s approval and acceptance. In this essay, Dubus talks about his summer job experience and how his father was proud of him after his first day at a construction company.

Dubus says he has been bullied as a child, but not because he was small or tiny, but because he was easy to pick on, since he would be too afraid to fight or talk back to them. But his father doesn’t see this nor knows about this. I feel that Dubus doesn’t want to show this side of him to his father, because he feels that this is not the kind of son he would want: Weak and helpless.

Dubus continues on with memories of his father bringing him to more “manly” activities such as taking him to professional wrestling matches, fishing, golfing, hunting,etc. All this while, he wanted to go out with his friends, but as he grew up to be a man, Dubus is kind of glad that he had spent those afternoons with his father. It is interesting how Dubus noted that he became a man and being grateful for being with his father during those times, because it implies that he was still a little boy (both literally and figuratively), naive and innocent at the time.

How did he become a man? Well, it started with his father bringing him to his first summer job at a construction company. His father introduced him to the foreman and told him to, “Make a man of him.”   In  a way, Dubus’s father is telling so much in just 5 words. He wants the foreman to teach his son to be useful. He wants to him to teach him that you have to work to get certain things. These are the things his father thinks that a man should be capable of.

Dubus couldn’t handle it anymore  after working under the sun for long hours which eventually led to his vomiting. It was when his father came to pick him up to go home, he felt like he had failed him. However, to Dubus’s surprise, his father told him that he knew about his situation. But he wasn’t upset or mad. Instead, a sense of pride rushed over him. He was proud of his son for not complaining and whining and that showed courage.

When Dubus’s father brought a straw hat for him so that he wouldn’t get too hot from being under the sun, I felt like it was probably the best gift that Dubus received. The straw hat is not only just a gift, but an acknowledgement of his manhood, his courage, his strength, determination and the fact that his father gave it to him, made it all the more memorable. Dubus says he was not sick the next day and he felt better. I think this could be interpreted as literally and figuratively, as he felt much better in mentally, because of this experience with his father. It seemed like everything ran smoothly from then on.