How to write a winning scholarship essay - Gen Tanabe, Kelly Tanabe 2018
A scholarship support network
30 winning scholarship essays
Emanuel Pleitez, Recipient of $30,000 in Scholarships Emanuel Pleitez remembers falling asleep while writing his scholarship essays. In fact, he worked so late, that he went to the post office at the Los Angeles International airport to mail his applications because that was the only post office open until midnight. Fortunately, he had a classmate who joined him on these late night drives.
“You have to surround yourself with friends who are motivated like you, who want to go to college and apply for scholarships,” he says.
Emanuel and his friend developed an informal support network for each other when applying for awards. He used his friend’s computer because he didn’t have one and the two helped edit each other’s work. In fact, Emanuel encouraged his friend to apply for an award that he found. His friend ultimately won the award.
His classmate wasn’t the only person that Emanuel relied on for help. He received encouragement from his coach, who was also his senior class advisor and school’s dean. His counselor mentored him after Emanuel approached him during his freshman year of high school to explain his ambition to attend a selective college. He gained interviewing experience at a program he attended to prepare students for internships and essay-writing help from the Quest summer school program he attended at Stanford.
“I was really lucky to be surrounded by all these good people.
At every stage there was always a couple of people who I could turn to for help,” Emanuel says.
With my parents’ help I learned not only to cope but to grow. Most people never know I have a severe hearing problem. I turn my head or move so they’re on my “good ear” side. I ask people to clarify when statements are unclear. I still play sports, especially lacrosse, though my coach nearly goes hoarse yelling to me.
I challenged myself, joining symphonic band and chamber singers and taking a lead in “The Fantasticks” musical. Enormous hours were spent pinging on the piano, trying to match my voice to notes. The support of friends and teachers was wonderful, and we received rave reviews for the performances.
The struggle has brought me closer to my 90-year-old grandmother, who is losing her hearing. We visit daily and watch PBS together on weekends, the volume blasting. We empathize with each other, laughing and crying over the frustrations of deafness. When volunteering in the hospital cardiac care unit, I comfort older patients by comparing hearing aids. They laugh and do not feel quite so old.
Spring three years ago brought an incredible gift. A doctor developed a trans-cranial hearing aid. It transmits sounds powerfully from the deaf ear, through the skull, to the nerves in the “good” ear. Now, I hear some stereophonic sound and tonality. This cutting edge solution has helped me decide to study engineering, to help others as I have been helped. Engineering is a noble profession; its goal is to alleviate the human condition. I seek to examine and solve problems by creating new visions that combine innovation with technological development.
My invisible handicap makes communication difficult, but I wanted to help other youth grow and develop life skills, faith and values. So, I pushed myself and took increased leadership in Boy Scouts and in my church.
These positions require good communication, making me work extremely hard. But the results have been worth the effort. As the leader of the Presbyterian Youth Connection Council for the Synod of the Northeast, I have worked with youth and adults from eight states. We hold training events to improve youth leadership. I went to Colorado to help the Synod of the Rocky Mountains establish a youth council. Twice we have planned conferences for nearly 200 youth. I have learned to work until a task is completed.
Though unable to say I’m glad it happened, I have benefited from my hearing loss. I have learned to use my limitations to help others and to never give up. My no longer monotone voice now reflects the non-monotone life I have developed.
nhia Tongchai lee, Knight Ridder minority scholar Nhia comes from a Hmong family where tradition is important. If his parents had their way, he would never date or even have friends of the opposite sex. While he respects his parents and his family’s values, he feels that it’s important that Hmong of his generation take steps toward independence and leadership. As he says, “Just make sure you take big steps and not little baby steps.” And through writing he wants to be someone who influences those of his generation.
It’s because of this desire to inspire others that Nhia got involved in his newspaper at Lansing Everett High School in Lansing, Michigan, and is now majoring in journalism at Michigan State University. His passion to affect others through his writing has been recognized. He has won more than $60,000 in scholarships including the Michigan State University Distinguished Freshman Achievement Award and Detroit Free Press Journalism Award. When asked his planned career field, he says that he will become the editor of Rolling Stone.
Only the strong survive
Our lives are not predetermined but rather a journey that each individual must decide for himself. Events that transpire along the way do not just disrupt the journey but sometimes occur to benefit it. During the Vietnam War, my family was forced out of their homeland Laos and into Thailand, where they sought refuge for five years. All was left behind to take a stab at giving my siblings and me a possible future. The only life they knew had been wiped clear of existence. The familiar air breathed, land cultivated and faces seen all seemed like a lost dream.
Relocating in Thailand did not manifest into the Promised Land everyone had heard about. Instead of the beautiful lands and abundance of food, what they found were crowded camps and no food. Hunger spread like wildfire and people died by the handful. What many thought was a safe haven was in actuality a waiting deathbed.
Only the strong survived the refugee camps. My family members were just more faces in the crowd of thousands in the same situation. It was there that I was born into a life deprived of the simple good things in life. Finding food was always a problem and just trying to survive to the next day was a top priority. My parents knew that in order to survive we had to leave the refugee camps. If you were lucky, you were sponsored to move to America.
Along with thousands of others, we had nothing to do but wait. Wait for a reply to our pleas to leave.
In 1985 my family finally received word that our prayers out of Thailand were answered. A church in Michigan sponsored our family and that was our ticket out. We immigrated to the United States to start anew. We had to adopt a new language, a new culture and a whole new way of life.
Through it all, we continued to practice our culture and customs. That was something my parents wanted to keep and pass on to generations to come. It was the only thing about the past that remained with us. My parents wanted us to grow up to be traditional Hmong boys and girls.
I knew what I wanted in life, but knowing that traditionally Hmong children married at a young age, it was hard to break out of that mold. By choosing journalism as a career path, I hope to set an example: following the traditional rules is not the only option, even though that’s the only life we know. I want to complete school and have my writing reach a vast audience. I hope to make a difference with writing and show the youth of my culture that we can balance both worlds at the same time. We can still have respect for our parents and compassion for our culture while changing along with modern society. There is a lot more out there for us, a world beyond marriage and children, a world that can show a whole different perspective on life.
I want to show that growing up impoverished can still lead to being published in a national newspaper or writing a Pulitzer Prize-winning article. I want to be that role model for Hmong kids who sometimes feel trapped within the walls that are built around them.
I believe that if I can live my life the way I want it and not how my parents want it, then others can follow. Instead of marrying into a burden-filled life, I can become the anchor for that change. I want to take the path that my parents never spoke of. I know that in the end that will be the difference between what is and what could have been. Hopefully young people, not just Hmong kids, but anyone who feels lost can look at what I have achieved and find their own path.
Jennifer chiu, Telluride association summer program scholarship winner
Jennifer had the opportunity to experience college life while she was still in high school. As a junior at Hunter College High School in New York City, she won a full scholarship to the Telluride Association Summer Program on constitutional law at Cornell University. The program exposes students from a variety of backgrounds to college life and courses. Jennifer used her experience to make the transition to Yale University. In addition to this award, she also won the New York Times College Scholarship, National Merit Scholarship and Yale Club of New York City Scholarship. She gives the following advice about applying for awards, “Don’t stress too much over sending in the perfect application. Behind every piece of paper is a person, not a robot.”
Lessons from a pitbull
Every time I walked down 52nd Avenue on my way home from the library, I passed a mean pitbull that always barked at and tried to attack strangers. For some reason, he seemed to hate me especially. I suppose that dogs instinctively protect their territory against all intruders and that I qualified.
Yet, I was a very poor intruder at best. Whenever I saw him, I cowered next to the hedges, but he would always smell my fear and start his tirade. Perhaps it was my fault for not crossing over to the opposite sidewalk. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was scared.
One afternoon, after having had an especially bad day, I passed him once again. When he started to yap as usual, something snapped inside of me, and I growled back. I think that I could have been heard all the way into the next street. When the dog’s owner came out to see what was going on, I ran away.
After that, I avoided the house.
On the surface, the conflict was simple: a struggle for territory. That dog simply did not want me around, while I insisted on it. But deeper down, the problem was my refusal to admit that I was scared of him. My foolish courage rested on the notion that I had a fear of being afraid. I refused to believe that every day is a struggle for survival, since humans have supposedly evolved beyond this. Obviously this is untrue, and now I realize that I, like any other creature, experience terror.
As I battled the dog, I felt conflict with myself at a deeper level. I realized I had a superiority complex, since I was better off in some ways than other people. That would boost my motivation to succeed, but it came at the cost of being alienated and eternally conscious of my weaknesses. I always watched my back, even when it was not necessary. I was intimidated by other people just like I was intimidated even by the dog. I paid the price of needless self-torture and confusion.
This barking episode was one decisive moment in my life. Though it is embarrassing, after all, I proved myself worthy against a dog, not all lessons can be picture-perfect. I’m glad I learned it the hard way than never at all. I realized that I am allowed to admit that I am afraid sometimes, as long as I am willing to work to mediate the anxiety.
Last week, I walked past the house again. It was abandoned and a “For Sale” sign adorned the front yard. I turned on my heels and left.