Essay Category:
Essay Question:
MAJOR ESSAY (PERSONAL STATEMENT): Please provide a statement of your reasons for wishing to engage in the study of law, setting forth any special qualifications you believe you have. Include in your personal statement any additional facts that you believe should have a bearing on your admission to law school.
I am a competitor - I am not satisfied with mediocrity; I demand of myself nothing less than my best effort at all times. For many years, athletics provided me an opportunity to reap the benefits of my naturally competitive attitude, which fueled my assiduous labors to cultivate my raw talent. As a three-sport athlete at an intensely competitive high school, I relished every moment on the baseball, football, or soccer field. On each team, I earned a position of critical importance to the team'a visible position that was demanding and unforgiving'and I excelled at each. In baseball I played first base and batted clean-up, in football I punted and kicked, and in soccer I played goalkeeper. Nevertheless, there is something special about being a member of a team and achieving a common goal. None of my teams ever won a state championship, but we came exasperatingly closefinishing with high national rankings in football and soccer. I was recruited by a number of universities; however, my dream of playing varsity athletics at a major university would never be realized after I blew out my knee during my senior year. Rehabilitating my knee was challenging, but I learned it could never endure the rigorous training necessitated by the Division I athletics. Luckily, I found that club sports were a more low-impact option I could still enjoy. Though I still delight in playing club soccer and golf, it's not the same competition level that I used to love. Naturally, parity exists between athletic competition and academic competition. Academically, the Duke student body is competitive, but that competition manifests itself in a different, much more indirect way. After a weak first semester performance by my own standards, I challenged myself to achieve a level of excellence similar to what I used to demand on the field. I have made the Deans List every semester since the first, freshman year. Even as a freshman, I looked to my future career as an opportunity to build upon my academic talents and realize success in a competitive field of some nature. At first, medicine caught my attention. My experiences and conversations with orthopedic surgeons led me to begin college as a pre-med. I landed a great summer job (one that I would resume each summer until Junior year) in a toxicology lab with R.J. Reynolds Tobacco that afforded me the opportunity to use my science background while supplementing my learning in biology and genetics. I discovered that work in a laboratory translates into periods of intense concentration and effort when performing a test or procedure, followed by periods of ennui waiting for those tests or procedures to run their course. One of my supervisors furnished me with company documents and externally written articles explaining the intricacies of the company's legal troubles, giving me something to read during the less exciting periods. The purpose of the reading was to relate why the tests we were running on various tobacco products needed to be performed. The effect of the documents was unintended, but substantial: I became absorbed in the legal arguments comprising the lawsuits against Reynolds. I found myself researching various aspects of the cases in my spare time. As a nonsmoker, I could appreciate many of the arguments for and against the tobacco industry. The legal wrangling in these suits still captivates me. Having recognized the law as a major forum for intellectual competition, I realized that I finally found a substitute for the competitive void left by athletics. As an aspiring lawyer, I have taken every opportunity to immerse myself in activities related to law. I joined Bench & Bar, the pre-legal society at Duke, and eventually became president of the club. I even added a second major, Public Policy Studies (PPS), in addition to Economics, to refine my reasoning skills and expand my understanding of business, government, and public policy. The knowledge I have gained in my undergraduate majors should provide me with a unique perspective in my legal studies. Economics has proven a perfect complement to my innately analytical perspective, and my ongoing studies continue to whet my reasoning. In my PPS major, every class features numerous writing assignments. These writing assignments, referred to as 'memos' by the department, require the advocacy of a single viewpoint. In writing these memos, I learned successful advocacy is critically dependent upon analyzing all sides of an issue and concentrating on weaknesses or ambiguities in the opposition's argument while, at the same time, anticipating attacks against limitations in my chosen viewpoint. Moreover, I have developed a passion for scrutinizing competing arguments and a profound appreciation for the art of crafting language into a convincing assertion. Through the Public Policy Department, I have also been able to gain valuable exposure to legal issues. I was able to take a class focusing on the administration of justice, taught by a team of Durham lawyers, and intern with one of those lawyers during the summer following my junior year. As an intern, I examined the NC Supreme Courts exercise of appellate jurisdiction over the Court of Appeals in criminal cases, uncovering evidence that the Court is more available to the States appeals than the defense's. The internship experience fortified my desire to become a lawyer. My competitive nature and passion for meeting challenges fuel both my academic studies and professional aspirations. I believe Vanderbilts rigorous, but friendly academic environment will allow me to thrive as a law student, and its excellent national reputation will benefit me professionally.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal statement.
I was eight years old when my mother and grandfather first took me to the town
of Bruce, Florida. I remember wondering, as I peered out the backseat window,
why they had made such a big deal about this place. The town looked like any
prototypical small 'Panhandle' town, and I had seen many of those. There were
the all-purpose stores and gas stations that serviced drivers who exited the
highway, and past that, acres and acres of pine straw-covered land. The entire
town consisted of one intersection.
Bruce is home to the Muscogee Nation of Florida, descendants of the Eastern
Creek Indians who escaped the Trail of Tears by fleeing into the backwoods
enclaves of south Alabama and north Florida, and assimilating into the white
culture of the pioneering communities that accepted their presence. My mother
and
her family are Muscogee Indians, but for so many years no one ever spoke of
this, even as she grew up. Due to societal pressures of the region, where
American
Indians did not live on reservations but rather continued their assimilation in
the local communities, earlier generations had learned to deny by omission any
relation to the Muscogee.
American Indian ancestry would have meant social
isolation in the small town where they lived. Andrew Jackson had made it
illegal
for Native Americans to reside in Florida, and though this law was no longer
applied, a deep-rooted bias remained. The family's origins became a taboo
subject, known but seldom mentioned, particularly outside the family. Only when
my mother was an adult did the social response to American Indians change enough
for her to feel comfortable with the subject, the secret that was obvious to
everyone.
At this time, I was young and, quite honestly, not particularly interested in
the issue. I had shaped my life without an identification with my ethnicity,
but
now that has changed. I credit my grandfather with opening my eyes to my
culture. He has dedicated the past twenty years to research aimed at recovering
the lost stories and denied histories of our Muscogee relatives. The purpose of
this trip to Bruce was to study old records and to introduce me to our familys
tribal culture firsthand. Over the years there would be more trips, more
exploration of the tribal archives, and more family trees. As an adolescent I
began to see that I was ignoring a rich family heritage. The stories began to
fascinate me, and I began to feel a desire to become actively involved with the
tribe.
I began helping with the seemingly endless searches through old county records,
pulling marriage licenses and other documents, and comparing the birthdates that
separated one John Ward from another. My work began to focus primarily on the
life of Diamond Joe Ward, an ancestor who had served as the tribe's local leader
in the early twentieth century, and his wife who, having been adopted by a
whitecustoms and practices
Indian trader, had committed herself to keeping tribal
alive. Learning my family's role in the history of the region has given me an
increased personal connection to the stories that once seemed dry and detached,
and has given me a pride I had not realized.
With this greater sense of my self, I now recognize that my personal heritage is
infinitely more complex than I first understood. To me, my heritage is more
than
a label or an identification. It is the realization that my own family, and
every other family, has within it an important history that should be recovered
and maintained. The past is woven into the future of families and of
individuals, and I have been fortunate enough to find my own.
Through this investigation, I have learned as much about myself as I have
learned about my past. What I have learned while researching has raised issues
of self-definition. As I learn more, I become aware of how influences have
shaped me. I learned why my family settled where it did, and I learned the
source for their close connection to the woods, rivers, and bayous of the
region.
The terms I had used to describe myself were simultaneously explained and
expanded. It became a true process of discovery for me.
At the same time that I have become more self-aware, I began to question the
very notion of identity. How much of our identity is created by our experience,
and how much is given to us, handed down from generations before? How can
forces
so profoundly influence us before we understand them fully? What is the true
value of learning about them? I do not yet have answers to these questions.
The
more I grapple with them, the more uncertainty arises.
Now, when we drive to Bruce, I do not sit in the backseat staring blankly at the
yellow lines passing on the highway. Instead, I watch eagerly for the familiar
indications that we are getting closer, and I am excited about what lies ahead.
I did not start this project with the goal of learning so much about myself; I
thought it would be an exercise in learning about my history, but on the long
drives to the council house these days, I have time to reflect on the essential
understandings about myself that this journey has given me.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Generic "Personal Statement" question.
Sometimes I wonder if I've ever been honest with anyone. I don't mean that I lie, or even that I am necessarily deceptive, but perhaps there is a difference between speaking the truth and being true. Being true, in my estimation, requires that one know something about his own character. How else can he know when he is false? With each passing day, however, I grow closer to the realization that my knowledge of my character fails to satisfy me. So far, I haven't decided whether this is a flaw. In the past, I have described myself as an actor. In fact, performing was so central to my life prior to Cornell that I deeply regret not having returned to the stage in the last three years. Like a musician who locks away his instrument, I put aside that part of my life to concentrate, I told myself, on academics. I truly miss the theater, and though from time to time I am bothered by the idea that I could have remained both a student and an actor, really I know this question is a lie. A catcher may be unable to catch without his glove, or an artist paint without his brushes, but as an actor I am bound by nothing - not by a costume, a script, or even a stage. I cannot remember when this realization first came to me, but I must admit it has become both a comfort and a source of strength. An actor, I decided, is not merely a product of his role; he is not an actor simply because he pretends and performs for an audience in a theater. Rather, an actor is one who is in control of himself. An actor is deliberate and conscious of how his words and actions are perceived. He is utterly aware of the scene in which life has placed him at any given moment, and he is forever in thought of his role therein. Certainly, this is an idealized definition, but I believe it has served me well. I've engaged in a wide variety of roles in recent years, and by concentrating myself upon each endeavor I have been successful. My role as a student is just one of these, but there are many more. Once limited to graphic design, my work in e-commerce has increasingly placed me in the role of a salesman, often speaking directly with clients to sell our services and ideas. I have helped my family to cope with my grandfather's Alzheimer's disease, and as an older brother I have seen my siblings through their transitions to high school and college. A different performance is required for each of the scenes that accompany these roles, and to the extent that I am able to play them successfully they all feel equally natural. But by far the most foreign role I have yet had the chance to play, and therefore the most exciting, I found as an intern at the Washington D.C. bureau of Fox News. Every morning I awoke in Washington I was either thrilled that I was going in to work or disappointed that I wasn't. The news business is a turbulent one, changing every day and sometimes minute by minute, and I was excited to be there, feeding off the energy of everyone at the bureau. I would be exaggerating if I said there was never a slow moment, but even then there was an anticipation and urgency that filled the air with purpose and drive. Yes, I loved the energy at Fox, but that wasn't the best part. For me, going into the field was like being on stage. On dozens of occasions I had the opportunity to attend press conferences, stakeouts, Congressional committee meetings, and other newsworthy events ubiquitous in Washington. Sometimes I ran errands; other times I went simply for my own education, but the reason didn't matter. As far as anyone knew I was a member of the press, with my notepad, ID badge, and look of purpose. I cannot adequately communicate the thrill of those experiences except to compare it to the thrill of performing. Each situation was new and always I was on my feet. It was like improv in so many ways, only it seemed to matter. Whether I was treated seriously at the Pentagon, the White House, or on Capitol Hill depended entirely upon my presentation: not just how I was dressed, but how I carried myself, what I said, and how I said it. If I could behave easily and appropriately, I would be accepted even if I were secretly doodling on my notepad instead of taking notes. The opportunities I had to actively participate in those experiences, whether by mingling with the press corps or even asking questions of government officials, were exciting tests of my abilities to perform in situations where I felt any display of incompetence or lapse of poise would discredit me. Some might argue that the stakes were not so high; really, what did it matter if I were seen as just another Washington intern instead of a professional? I suppose it did not seriously matter, but that wasn't the point. I eagerly invented the challenge, I think, because it appealed to my notion of what makes a capable, well-equipped individual. I have endless respect for those who are able to act appropriately in any situation, no matter how foreign; certainly, this is an issue of politeness and propriety, but to me is also a hallmark of intelligence, and I aspire to it. Familiar circumstances are safe and comforting precisely because they do not challenge. Whether negotiating on the phone with small business owners to design their internet storefront, struggling to build ranch fencing among cowboys, or traveling 3000 miles from home to attend university, I have invited challenge because it provides an opportunity to test myself in new roles. Of all the enthusiastic evaluations I can give of my internship in cable TV journalism, the greatest is to say that it was an unparalleled test of my ability to perform. The time I spent in the field and at the bureau was an incomparable education in politics, the media, and not least significantly, myself. Moreover, it has helped confirm what I've grown to suspect about my character: that because of its adaptability and mutability, I may never fully know it. Because each performance in my life is determined by the tests with which I am confronted, I am led to conclude that my character is variable. Accordingly, Ive learned that I am capable of almost any challenge by adopting the strengths, attitudes, and qualities needed to succeed. This is at once a romantic, empowering, and self-inflating manifesto, I know, but for me it has a disturbing side as well. Like a chameleon that can't identify its original color, I am left puzzling over who I would be without challenges through which to define myself. As an actor, I try consciously to understand my part in every role I play, but I have great difficulty understanding my character except in relation to those roles. Ironically, the dynamism and versatility to which I aspire seems to conflict with my notion of honesty, for I cannot but wonder whether the character I've adopted for any given situation is in fact a false one. Whatever benefits I've derived from this versatility, I have also uncovered a personal philosophical dilemma. Presently, I am left with the unsatisfactory conclusion that my true color might in fact be a changeable palette, capable of shifting its hues to meet any challenge. I'm not sure whether this should be cause for pride or concern, but perhaps acknowledging it is as honest as I can be.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
The essay was a personal statement, in response to a very open-ended prompt, something to the effect of, "Tell us something about yourself not apparent from the rest of your application."
In the third drawer of a rusty filing cabinet in the Arizona Daily Wildcat offices sits a jumble of dog-eared papers and worn out notebooks. I don't look at them much anymore, but they're mine, accumulated over the course of last spring, when I was a senior writer for the Wildcat, reporting on some of the most complex stories the University of Arizona's student newspaper has ever needed to cover. Over those four months, I wrote more than 50 stories on issues like the 40 percent tuition hike UA students faced, or the administrative restructuring of the university that will result in program closures and dozens of layoffs. To report these stories, I conducted hundreds of interviews and pored over dozens of documents, many written in the language of bureaucrats, and synthesized this information into digestible bits for the Wildcat's diverse group of 50,000 readers to understand. Journalism has filled the most significant portion of my time during my undergraduate years, and as a result, I've learned valuable skills like deadline writing and information synthesis that I believe set me apart from many law school applicants. Unlike many undergraduates, who have the option of spending days or even weeks writing papers for their classes, I have been forced to write often complex news stories in hours or even minutes to meet the deadline for daily publication of the student newspaper. I left the University of Southern California, where I spent my freshman year, for Arizona, after deciding to save my money and get an education closer to home. I dove right into journalism there, applying for a job at the Daily Wildcat, a place that has been a second home for me over the past two-and-a-half years. The Wildcat was desperate for experienced editors, and hired me off the street as assistant news editor, a move that raised eyebrows among skeptical senior staff, who had never seen a Wildcat neophyte be named an editor so quickly. I guess I proved them wrong, as it took me only a year to ascend to the highest rung of the Wildcat ladder. By the fall of my second year at the UA, I was the paper's editor in chief, leading a staff of 100 people charged with the task of putting out a daily paper. I put in 50-hour weeks at the newspaper, in addition to taking a full load of courses. In the process, I managed to earn A's in all my classes, doing homework during downtime at the Wildcat, and spending Saturdays typing papers at my computer or researching assignments in the library so I could be free to focus on my important job during the week. During the year-and-a-half I spent working mostly behind a desk in my editorial positions, including as editor in chief, I had a secret ambition to work as a reporter, to descend from the top rung of the Wildcat hierarchy to the journalistic trenches. I wanted to conduct interviews, write under deadline, and explain complex issues in ways my readers could understand. So I spent last spring as a reporter, accumulating notebooks and papers in that filing cabinet drawer as I covered issues like tuition and the role of race in university admissions. I recall one day during that semester when I was late for an English class because I had been in a meeting with the university president, listening to him explain his plans for including race as an admissions criterion as the university becomes more selective in who it accepts. I spent that afternoon putting together a story explaining the president's ideas in the context of the national controversy over race and admissions. The next day, I visited the English professor whose class I had been late to, and he commented that he had noticed my name in the newspaper throughout the semester. 'You guys do good work,' he told me. 'There was a great story in today's paper about admissions policies.' He hadn't noticed my byline that day, so I had the great pleasure of pointing it out to him. 'In fact, that's why I was late to your class yesterday,' I said. 'I was with the president, doing work for this story.' Since then, I've once again taken the Wildcat's top job, the first person in at least 25 years to serve two terms as editor in chief. Working there has exposed me to real-world work situations, and I've been forced to think critically in ways that few undergraduates are. As I write this statement, it's been about a week since I visited Huntsville, Texas, where I helped design a curriculum for a master's degree in criminal justice journalism at Sam Houston State University. In one day, our group of professors, professional journalists and student newspaper editors turned a blank sheet of paper into a blueprint for a 36-unit program for mid-career journalists and criminal justice professionals looking for a more detailed understanding of their fields. It was another exercise in critical thinking that allowed me to understand the importance of being able to quickly synthesize diverse ideas and opinions. As many people do, I sometimes doubt my thinking abilities. I've made stupid mistakes in all aspects of my life, and as a journalist, my mistakes are often public. Nothing's more humbling than misspelling a word in a front-page headline. But largely because of my journalistic experiences, my undergraduate experience has been a journey of intellectual maturation, and I feel prepared for law school. Anytime I doubt myself, I can look in that rusty filing cabinet drawer.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement
I believe that the practice of law can be applied in many ways. To me, the most important of which is for the greater good. This, though an ambiguous statement, generally characterizes the way in which I perceive my life and work. As a Magis scholar at Loyola University Chicago, I was trained in the scholarship and practice of social justice, with special regard to the evolution of social teaching; the three primary tenets of which are human dignity, community and stewardship. These do not readily appear to be applicable to the study and practice of law, but the moral and ethical aspects of the law are important components of the American judicial tradition. For example, Senator Lindsey Graham stated that America has lost the moral high ground: But we're not like who want to be and who we have been. And that's the point I'm trying to make, that when you start looking at torture statutes and you look at ways around the spirit of the law, that you're losing the moral high ground. And that was the counsel from the secretary of state's office that once you start down this road that it's very hard to come back. So I do believe we have lost our way. And my challenge to you as a leader of this nation is to help us find our way without giving up our obligation and right to fight our enemy. Questions of torture were less about Iraqi citizens than about basic human dignity. These questions are increasingly important. The terminology may be different, but the fundamental principles are the same. Secular institutions like the Brookings Institute acknowledged the use of just war theory from many different perspectives including Sikh, Jew, Catholic, and Atheist in Liberty & Power: A Dialogue on Religion & U.S. Foreign Policy in an Unjust World. Further, in Jean Bethke Elshtain's recent book: Just War Against Terror there were seven discussions of human dignity (Western notions of, Tillich's defense of, Taliban's lack of respect for, as American value, etc). Scholars on the topic include Michael Walzer and Ruth Wedgewood, and the list could go on to encompass every religious, secular, and political viewpoint all discussing social thought without directly saying it. During the discussions surrounding whether to go into Iraq, there were weekly editorials raising issues in which any scholar of St. Augustine and any expert on international law would be well-versed. Everyone will condemn torture because the idea of human dignity, like community and stewardship, is innate across religious, social and ethnic lines. People have a sense of humanity and a desire to protect it. Certainly one may be inclined to preemptively eliminate perceived threats to one's self-preservation, but not without a defense and an explanation for one's actions that is judged against society's mores and international norms. It is notable that while some maintain a deep idealism for the way the world should be, I believe it is necessary to also be pragmatic in the application of such idealism. 'If men and women do not believe that it is possible to live in justice and peace, they will slip ever deeper into a fatalism that only confirms the drift of events toward greater tragedy. If, on the other hand, they only dream of justice and peace and avoid the hard and ambiguous choices that people, nations, and the human community confront, they will just as surely contribute to the triumph of historical forces beyond human control.' Therefore, it is necessary to pursue peace and justice in a realistic manner within the institutional framework. My primary interests in law are international: questions of how we define our status in the world apply aid, trade, and interact. However, my overall goals for the practice of law are far reaching. I envision practicing law for the government, an international agency, or for a non-profit entity, such as an immigration and refugee clinic, or some other type of legal aid work. Why I want to study law follows from my own passions. One motivation is pure intellectual interest. I find the law intriguing. Working in a civil litigation firm as a clerk/paralegal, doing the grunt work, I know the practice of law is not glitzy or glamorous. I spend most of my days writing letters to clients, summarizing depositions, medical records, slogging through cases and researching on Westlaw, dictating, and writing memos. I enjoy pulling cases on Westlaw, finding something on point, and discussing the intricacies of law and policy. I find it immensely challenging, stimulating, and rewarding. However, that is not my driving motivation to go to law school. Volunteering at a legal aid clinic showed me how the law is an instrument that can change peoples' lives. Having an old arrest record expunged allows reformed citizens to obtain stable employment at a wage commensurate with their experience. Working at public radio I reported on a case where lawyers from the Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund challenged the Chicago bureau of the former Immigration and Naturalization Service's illegal deportation practices. When I worked at the American Bar Association, I fought for greater legal protections throughout Latin America. I helped to establish the rule of law in Kosovo, and met with the past and present prime ministers to discuss strategies for improvement. In each of these activities I met different types of lawyers using their juris doctorates to help people locally and internationally. I do not know, nor do I believe I could or should know at this point, exactly what kind of law I wish to practice. However, I do know I desire to study and practice law to achieve social justice.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement
Imperial Sugar It was only 99 cents at Kroger: Imperial Pure Cane Sugar. At home in America's Kitchens Since 1843. Net wt 1 lb. (16 oz) 453 g. 126 Sugar Cubes. Little did I know how much this 2 x 4 < x 3 > inch cardboard box would come to symbolize. This thin, light-yellow box with slender white lines and such seemingly simple instructions, 'pull and tear at perforation,' serves as a reminder of life's lessons. As I enter my fourth and final year as coordinator of Wharton and Rice Mentorship (WARM), I will forever treasure those little encounters the most. Wharton Elementary has become my haven, my home, and a place where I have found solace during my college career. This elementary serves a predominately Hispanic population in the Fourth Ward and Montrose area of Houston, Texas. Perusing the school profile on paper, one could think twice about the prospects of success for these children: 100% are Title 1 (low-income students), 87% are on free/reduced lunch, 61% have Limited English, and 79% are considered at-risk. Yet, their attendance numbers are phenomenal, their promotion rate is high, and their hearts are so overpowering that one cannot help but stand in awe at this exemplary school and its families. Through WARM, we alternate between Wharton Elementary and Rice University campuses. One memorable afternoon from last Spring stands out in my mind. By 3:15, the mentors and mentees gathered to eat the strawberry cupcakes with vanilla frosting and sprinkles that I had baked the prior evening. Our focus for the day was twofold: to bring closure to the year and to unify the group. I initiated an activity in which participants could capitalize on their strengths and disintegrate their weaknesses. We sat in a circle with the famous cardboard box. The sugar activity was one that I had developed as a cabin leader at a summer camp for children with special needs. 'I fear that I will be this size in two years,' remarked Julian, an obese nine-year old boy who recognizes the health risks inherent in his size. Josh, a second year mentor, revealed, 'I am scared that my ambition to become a doctor is only a quest to make my parents proud.' 'I am scared that I will not accomplish my God-given mission. I fear that I will succumb to the pressures of being the 'best' or doing the 'best' and that I will lose sight of my mission in life.' That was what I said. One by one, we disclosed our greatest fears by dropping sugar cubes into the water. The Tupperware bowl became a reservoir of renounced anxiety. We each began with about five sugar cubes, then by the end they were all gone. Recognizing each concern as noteworthy, the children offered mutual support and respect. What came to surface that Friday afternoon in April was the trust and love that had been built among our team. By dropping the sugar cubes in water, we watched the very things that were troubling us shed and disintegrate. Finally, when there were just a handful of pieces left, I had everyone put in one cube together. We made a pact for each other. In unison, each individual dropped his or her final cube, making a wish for WARM - that we may embrace trust, hope, and love. This activity taught us to relinquish the strong, tough, survivor-like exteriors we tend to wear, to acknowledge our vulnerabilities, and to embrace hope in one another. The next week, we used the same bowl for water, but we each had one stone to place into the bowl. The goal was for each of us to identify one quality for which we were most proud. We went around the circle and declared our greatest asset. We acknowledged that these stones could and would never dissolve. While the stones may become smoother with time, having been weathered by water, they would always be impenetrable and withstand hardship. After each of us placed our stone, we reflected on the unique contribution each person, in living, makes to the world. With the basin of water before us, we each took one stone to keep. I instructed everyone not to ask whose stone they had received, but to treasure the fact that they could be empowered by someone else's strength. Each of us now, both figuratively and quite literally, carries one another's strengths with us. That afternoon, I held that my strength was to serve as a voice for others. Outsiders might not see anything magical in that day, but the symbolism of our simple game became my declaration of independence. I am committed to not letting the voices of those children, or of any people I care about, fade away. This is what has been the guiding force for my devotion to my senior thesis project for Women and Gender Studies. Since my sophomore year, I have been invested in addressing the childcare needs of Rice University and instigating a dialogue surrounding this issue. My current fight is for the working mothers and fathers who face challenges in their dual roles as parents and employees. Utilizing my psychology based research skills, I am surveying the campus faculty, staff, and graduate students, to ascertain the desire for and feasibility of an onsite childcare facility. My efforts have re-ignited a discussion left silent since 1994, when the Commission on Women last addressed the issue. My senior thesis will be a comprehensive, ten year revisited report and recommendation to the administration regarding childcare needs. As I believe Rice should support both its educative mission and the notion of the family, I am working as an advocate to realize this goal. Congresswoman Barbara Jordan once said, 'All my growth and development led me to believe that if you really do the right thing, and if you play by the rules, and if you've got good enough, solid judgment and common sense, that you're going to be able to do whatever you want to do with your life.' As a Barbara Jordan Scholar, I have been able to attend Rice University because, coming out of high school I was recognized as a student who exhibited the qualities that were an integral part of her character - the ability to build bridges across racial, cultural, and religious divides - and the will to enhance the campus environment by embracing the diverse traditions that are part of our society. It is an honor to uphold her traditions and ideals through both academic and personal endeavors. Entering law school, I want to espouse her beliefs and empower others. I want to continue to embody her goals of building bridges. In a quest for public service, I hope to emulate her work. Whether through WARM, the childcare project, or my active role in campus and community service projects, my goal is to listen to the voices of others. I hope to be able to fight for those people, who are often too tired, overworked, young, or troubled to be able to fight for themselves. I want to stand up for them, their lives, ambitions, and dreams. I believe in 10 year-old Eddie, who wishes someday he could live in a three-story house. I will, someday, campaign for his friend Martin, who wants to be a world leader. It is funny how one hundred and twenty six sugar cubes could come to mean so much. After we all placed our final sugar cube in the water in unison, I was overcome with emotion and gave everyone a tearful, heartfelt thank you. I was moved by the bravery of the mentors and children. I have carried the rock in my backpack ever since. I do not know whose talent and strength I carry with me - I am lucky enough to carry all of them with me in my heart. WARM has been at home in my heart since 2000.
