Essay Test: Father and Child, Diversity and Community

The following essay was submitted to highly selective colleges and universities.

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Sometimes I close my eyes and dive deeply into the waters of my memories. I float through this ethereal sea—fragments of birthdays celebrated, books read, movies watched—until I see vividly my first memory, a scene frozen in my mind. I am an outsider, peering in through the mist: I see my father, face contorted in rage and fist raised; my mother, tears streaming down her quivering lips and bones trembling in her frail, defenseless body; and I see myself, a shaking four-year old watching with tiny fingers clasped over his face. For the first four years of my life, my mother suffered horrific domestic abuse at the hands of my father until she finally escaped by moving us from Lithuania to America. And for the next ten years, I replayed that memory in my head, terrified that, as my father’s son, I was destined to follow in his footsteps.

            I didn’t see my father again until I briefly visited California, his new home, when I was fourteen. As I scanned the airport, I spotted him, the face in my nightmares. He was large: a big body topped by a leather-brown face inlaid with piercing almond-shaped eyes and a downturned mouth, all framed by a square jaw and a crown of raven-black hair. We were identical—the walk, the way we carried ourselves—everything. Later, at dinner, I watched mannerisms that I had believed were unique to me being pantomimed by the man sitting across the table. From then on, I saw him whenever I looked in the mirror, the same jet-black hair and dark, ambitious eyes. I saw him in the fear in my mother’s eyes whenever I became agitated or reached for something near her, our resemblance causing her to recoil and flash back to memories of her abuse. Our physical similarities worsened my fears: Would I become like my father? Was I doomed to repeat history because of his blood in my veins?

            My fears have since eased, because living in small-town Alabama has taught me that one’s history need not define one’s existence. In my life here, I have made lifelong friends, from Michael, the Black Lives Matter activist grandson of a white supremacist; to Mr. Leroy, the once xenophobic war veteran, now a fierce advocate against Islamophobia. I have found individuals here who previously acted out of hate start to act out of love. This is a place where complete strangers go out of their way to help my mother load groceries while I am at school. This is a place of consistent unselfishness, where people, without regard to the stereotypes widely cultivated by their state’s history, stop at nothing to help and support others, even an immigrant with a “strange” name and darker skin such as myself. Alabama, with roots entrenched in the slave trade and Jim Crow abuses, has memories as dark as the obsidian waters flowing in the mighty Mississippi River that cuts through the state, but the Alabamins I have met do not let this past color their lives. Rather than in denial, Alabama acknowledges its somber past while striving for a better future. This has taught me to do the same.

Sometimes I worry that the remnants of my father within me will lead to my undoing.  But then I look around at my world—my Alabama—and am reminded that history does not always repeat itself; that, like those of this state’s mighty river, the waters of life are flowing and free, forever open to change. I cannot avoid my resemblance to my father, but I can control my own outlook. Life is determined not by the circumstances of our birth or past but by the choices we make going forward.

Where will I go from here? Now I know: I decide.

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Questions

Rate this essay from 1-5 with 5 being the highest rating. What rating did you give it and why?

How would you describe the author's voice?

How would the author's relationship to his father

What have you learned about the author from reading this essay?

Do you believe our lives are largely determined by the circumstances of our birth? If so, would                 you think twice about admitting this student?

Is the author male or female? Does the gender of the author matter? Should it? Defend your                     answer.

If you were going to make a case that this student should be admitted to  very highly selective                  colleges what would you say?

If you were to know this student was accepted to some of the top ranked universities before you             read this essay would this change how you felt about the writing?

Should students immigrant status be a part of the discussion about admitting them?

How does the author feel about living in the deep South?

Would this student add diversity to the campus? Defend your answer/ Are some kinds of                          diversity more important than others? If so, which ones? 

At the request of the author, some details of the essay have been altered.  If the author was                       originally from Ecuador or Ghana or Nepal would this alter your reading of the essay? Should it?

Would the author make a good roommate?

What makes a good father?

                                           https://youtu.be/Me1GIDy-U9g