Re: Personal Statement Samples
Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2012 10:47 am
Pear alt.
Law School Discussion Forums
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https://www.top-law-schools.com/forums/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=4353
So much for that promise. How could a law school possibly admit someone that doesn't keep their promises?AndrewCraig wrote: “I need you to promise me something and you can’t tell anyone in the whole world.”
I nodded solemnly.
“Promise me you’ll always be a knight and that you’ll always believe in magic and dragons and evil wizards.”
i pray youre being sarcasticmrizza wrote:So much for that promise. How could a law school possibly admit someone that doesn't keep their promises?AndrewCraig wrote: “I need you to promise me something and you can’t tell anyone in the whole world.”
I nodded solemnly.
“Promise me you’ll always be a knight and that you’ll always believe in magic and dragons and evil wizards.”
Other than that, great ps
What the fuck did I just read?AndrewCraig wrote:Her rumpled rainbow socks winked at me through the window; I winked back. She smiled slyly and I waited for the castle drawbridge to lower. I was a gallant knight storming the castle walls and she a scrappy maiden awaiting rescue. Two wooden boards flopped onto the ground and I bravely stuck my toe out over the deadly moat. A small minnow stared up at me, a reminder of the dangers lurking in the deep. I collected my courage and hurried onward. Who knew what terrors lay ahead? With my cardboard sword, I fought through spider-web traps and invisible guards, I slayed a medium-sized dragon and a rather wimpy troll. I reached the stairway short a few fingers, but with high morale. I had forgotten my map, so I hoped this was the right room. I charged up the stairs and burst through the door to find her sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Persis Pennington had wild green eyes and red hair that grew like a tangled shrub from her small round head. A toothy grin lit up her face when she saw me and she motioned for me to sit down. I sheathed my sword and removed the over-sized cooking pot from my head. She gave me a serious look and said in a whisper,
“I need you to promise me something and you can’t tell anyone in the whole world.”
I nodded solemnly.
“Promise me you’ll always be a knight and that you’ll always believe in magic and dragons and evil wizards.”
I looked up into her fierce green eyes; imagination and belief lit up her features. Several strands of her fiery red hair had fallen across her face and moved a little as a breeze flew in the open tower window.
“The warlock will be here soon,” I whispered back.
“Promise me. You have to promise me.”
She lived in a world of pure imagination. In that grove of oak trees, just beyond Sander’s creek, over the tall green hedge and through the prickly thicket, anything was possible.
My rumpled rainbow socks poke out from beneath a blanket as I lay on a couch in a room far away from castles and dragons. They are worn and faded and do not wink much anymore; instead they wear a sad smile. They remember that once, many years ago a fair maiden waited for a knight who never stormed through the castle gates to save her. He had grown to old to see the castle walls and to cross the deadly moat. He packed his things into boxes and moved away. His mother cleaned out his room and threw away his sword and placed his helmet back on the shelf.
I am no longer a knight; I am not brave or dashing. Sometimes I wish I had made a promise to a fiery maiden in a cardboard castle at the top of a tower.
AndrewCraig wrote:Her rumpled rainbow socks winked at me through the window; I winked back. She smiled slyly and I waited for the castle drawbridge to lower. I was a gallant knight storming the castle walls and she a scrappy maiden awaiting rescue. Two wooden boards flopped onto the ground and I bravely stuck my toe out over the deadly moat. A small minnow stared up at me, a reminder of the dangers lurking in the deep. I collected my courage and hurried onward. Who knew what terrors lay ahead? With my cardboard sword, I fought through spider-web traps and invisible guards, I slayed a medium-sized dragon and a rather wimpy troll. I reached the stairway short a few fingers, but with high morale. I had forgotten my map, so I hoped this was the right room. I charged up the stairs and burst through the door to find her sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Persis Pennington had wild green eyes and red hair that grew like a tangled shrub from her small round head. A toothy grin lit up her face when she saw me and she motioned for me to sit down. I sheathed my sword and removed the over-sized cooking pot from my head. She gave me a serious look and said in a whisper,
“I need you to promise me something and you can’t tell anyone in the whole world.”
I nodded solemnly.
“Promise me you’ll always be a knight and that you’ll always believe in magic and dragons and evil wizards.”
I looked up into her fierce green eyes; imagination and belief lit up her features. Several strands of her fiery red hair had fallen across her face and moved a little as a breeze flew in the open tower window.
“The warlock will be here soon,” I whispered back.
“Promise me. You have to promise me.”
She lived in a world of pure imagination. In that grove of oak trees, just beyond Sander’s creek, over the tall green hedge and through the prickly thicket, anything was possible.
My rumpled rainbow socks poke out from beneath a blanket as I lay on a couch in a room far away from castles and dragons. They are worn and faded and do not wink much anymore; instead they wear a sad smile. They remember that once, many years ago a fair maiden waited for a knight who never stormed through the castle gates to save her. He had grown to old to see the castle walls and to cross the deadly moat. He packed his things into boxes and moved away. His mother cleaned out his room and threw away his sword and placed his helmet back on the shelf.
I am no longer a knight; I am not brave or dashing. Sometimes I wish I had made a promise to a fiery maiden in a cardboard castle at the top of a tower.
I haven't applied yet, and please correct me, y'all. But I've heard from many that have that you should be wary of starting your PS with a quote.misstrouble wrote:Hey guys,
I am so belated in discovering this site. I am very new to law school ideas, and I would appreciate any feedback I can get on my personal statement. Here goes...
“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” Mahatma Gandhi
My leitmotif is independence, adaptability, and curiosity. My childhood was spent travelling between Mother Russia ,Germany, Texas, Finland, and Canada. My family never had a home; I can’t remember even staying in one apartment for more than two years. We were poor.
I thought it was great.evaus wrote:Any advice or criticism would be greatly appreciated! also, I'd be happy to swap with anyone if you'd rather do it that way.
Personal Statement
I take from the poor to give to the rich.
Being young and living in New York City nearly always requires compromise: consider the actor/waiter, the poet/barista, or the comedian/tour-bus guide. And then consider me, the reverse Robin Hood.
At first I struggled with the moral implications of my work as paralegal for a bankruptcy trustee. Hundreds of times a month, I sit with my boss while he takes debtors’ testimony. For weeks afterward, I scour that testimony, pore over financial records, rummage through storage units, dog-ear a Kelley Blue Book, and keep a running dialogue with my auctioneer, all to take assets from someone already bankrupt.
Knowing I was a small part of a huge system did not ease my conscience, but after a few months I had an experience that did. My boss demanded that a debtor turn an $8,000 tax refund over to his creditors, and a week later the man’s wife died suddenly at 43. Days later, the debtor called me to give an account of the funeral expenses and plead for leniency. I conveyed this to my boss, who sat back in his chair and sighed. “The guy is getting a pass on six figures of debt,” he said, “and he owes the refund to his creditors. But I feel bad for him. What should I do?”
This was above my pay grade, but I ventured my opinion nonetheless.
That afternoon I got to call the man to offer my condolences and tell him we were closing his case. By sharing with me the decision he would have made anyway, my boss gave me a glimpse of the law’s humanity, and I began to understand bankruptcy as a means of freeing, not oppressing, those crushed by debt.
The experience reminded me of my first encounter with a lawyer. At age eleven, I sat with my little sister in a drab, threadbare lobby in our small town. On the other side of a closed door my dad, forced by his deteriorating health to give up his livelihood, met with a lawyer who helped him pro bono to apply for disability benefits. Thanks to the lawyer’s efforts my dad’s application was approved on his first submission. In the years to come my family endured plenty of financial hardship. I remember my mom buying me a winter coat several sizes too large, not knowing when she could again set aside money for a new one. At the outset, however, we were spared months of destitution by a lawyer who saw our need and volunteered to help.
I know these vignettes do not reflect the daily life of most lawyers. I have worked 100-hour weeks on mind-numbing, eye-straining discovery projects; filed hundreds of motions based on the same never-changing templates; and even trekked from the Upper East Side of Manhattan to Brooklyn on foot to assist my boss in court the day after Hurricane Sandy. Being a lawyer is rarely easy or glamorous, but two-and-a-half years at a large New York City law firm has not deterred me because the daily grind of legal work itself draws me to law school. Here is a field where I can earn an honest day’s wage for an honest day’s work, and occasionally help someone out in the process.
I enjoy working hard, having grown up on a small farm, earned a competitive scholarship to college, and worked thirty hours a week as a stockbroker to finance my studies. My parents were the first in their families to go to college, and I hope to be the first in either family to earn a graduate degree.
After the rural poverty of my childhood, having already established a life and a career in New York City, I am not content to settle. Instead I press on in hope not only of one day giving my own children a better life, but of making the choice my boss made to help a grieving widower, or that a small-town lawyer made to help my family fallen on hard times. At the bar the lofty ideals of Law, Justice, and the Common Good collide with our chaotic world, and that intersection is where I want to spend my professional life.
I've read the book 55 Successful Harvard Law School Application Essays and this PS was just as sharp, witty, and compelling as any one of those in the book. Outstanding hook - clear theme - coherent - gives specific examples - and personable. Great job - kudos!evaus wrote:Any advice or criticism would be greatly appreciated! also, I'd be happy to swap with anyone if you'd rather do it that way.
Personal Statement
I take from the poor to give to the rich.
Being young and living in New York City nearly always requires compromise: consider the actor/waiter, the poet/barista, or the comedian/tour-bus guide. And then consider me, the reverse Robin Hood.
At first I struggled with the moral implications of my work as paralegal for a bankruptcy trustee. Hundreds of times a month, I sit with my boss while he takes debtors’ testimony. For weeks afterward, I scour that testimony, pore over financial records, rummage through storage units, dog-ear a Kelley Blue Book, and keep a running dialogue with my auctioneer, all to take assets from someone already bankrupt.
Knowing I was a small part of a huge system did not ease my conscience, but after a few months I had an experience that did. My boss demanded that a debtor turn an $8,000 tax refund over to his creditors, and a week later the man’s wife died suddenly at 43. Days later, the debtor called me to give an account of the funeral expenses and plead for leniency. I conveyed this to my boss, who sat back in his chair and sighed. “The guy is getting a pass on six figures of debt,” he said, “and he owes the refund to his creditors. But I feel bad for him. What should I do?”
This was above my pay grade, but I ventured my opinion nonetheless.
That afternoon I got to call the man to offer my condolences and tell him we were closing his case. By sharing with me the decision he would have made anyway, my boss gave me a glimpse of the law’s humanity, and I began to understand bankruptcy as a means of freeing, not oppressing, those crushed by debt.
The experience reminded me of my first encounter with a lawyer. At age eleven, I sat with my little sister in a drab, threadbare lobby in our small town. On the other side of a closed door my dad, forced by his deteriorating health to give up his livelihood, met with a lawyer who helped him pro bono to apply for disability benefits. Thanks to the lawyer’s efforts my dad’s application was approved on his first submission. In the years to come my family endured plenty of financial hardship. I remember my mom buying me a winter coat several sizes too large, not knowing when she could again set aside money for a new one. At the outset, however, we were spared months of destitution by a lawyer who saw our need and volunteered to help.
I know these vignettes do not reflect the daily life of most lawyers. I have worked 100-hour weeks on mind-numbing, eye-straining discovery projects; filed hundreds of motions based on the same never-changing templates; and even trekked from the Upper East Side of Manhattan to Brooklyn on foot to assist my boss in court the day after Hurricane Sandy. Being a lawyer is rarely easy or glamorous, but two-and-a-half years at a large New York City law firm has not deterred me because the daily grind of legal work itself draws me to law school. Here is a field where I can earn an honest day’s wage for an honest day’s work, and occasionally help someone out in the process.
I enjoy working hard, having grown up on a small farm, earned a competitive scholarship to college, and worked thirty hours a week as a stockbroker to finance my studies. My parents were the first in their families to go to college, and I hope to be the first in either family to earn a graduate degree.
After the rural poverty of my childhood, having already established a life and a career in New York City, I am not content to settle. Instead I press on in hope not only of one day giving my own children a better life, but of making the choice my boss made to help a grieving widower, or that a small-town lawyer made to help my family fallen on hard times. At the bar the lofty ideals of Law, Justice, and the Common Good collide with our chaotic world, and that intersection is where I want to spend my professional life.
This is what happens when WoW becomes your job.Mr.Binks wrote:What the fuck did I just read?AndrewCraig wrote:Her rumpled rainbow socks winked at me through the window; I winked back. She smiled slyly and I waited for the castle drawbridge to lower. I was a gallant knight storming the castle walls and she a scrappy maiden awaiting rescue. Two wooden boards flopped onto the ground and I bravely stuck my toe out over the deadly moat. A small minnow stared up at me, a reminder of the dangers lurking in the deep. I collected my courage and hurried onward. Who knew what terrors lay ahead? With my cardboard sword, I fought through spider-web traps and invisible guards, I slayed a medium-sized dragon and a rather wimpy troll. I reached the stairway short a few fingers, but with high morale. I had forgotten my map, so I hoped this was the right room. I charged up the stairs and burst through the door to find her sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Persis Pennington had wild green eyes and red hair that grew like a tangled shrub from her small round head. A toothy grin lit up her face when she saw me and she motioned for me to sit down. I sheathed my sword and removed the over-sized cooking pot from my head. She gave me a serious look and said in a whisper,
“I need you to promise me something and you can’t tell anyone in the whole world.”
I nodded solemnly.
“Promise me you’ll always be a knight and that you’ll always believe in magic and dragons and evil wizards.”
I looked up into her fierce green eyes; imagination and belief lit up her features. Several strands of her fiery red hair had fallen across her face and moved a little as a breeze flew in the open tower window.
“The warlock will be here soon,” I whispered back.
“Promise me. You have to promise me.”
She lived in a world of pure imagination. In that grove of oak trees, just beyond Sander’s creek, over the tall green hedge and through the prickly thicket, anything was possible.
My rumpled rainbow socks poke out from beneath a blanket as I lay on a couch in a room far away from castles and dragons. They are worn and faded and do not wink much anymore; instead they wear a sad smile. They remember that once, many years ago a fair maiden waited for a knight who never stormed through the castle gates to save her. He had grown to old to see the castle walls and to cross the deadly moat. He packed his things into boxes and moved away. His mother cleaned out his room and threw away his sword and placed his helmet back on the shelf.
I am no longer a knight; I am not brave or dashing. Sometimes I wish I had made a promise to a fiery maiden in a cardboard castle at the top of a tower.
bosmer88 wrote:It sounds like a script for an episode of Adventure Time.
Fascinating insights.donnabert wrote:GPA 3.6
LSAT 156
Attended Seattle University School of Law
“Psychopaths with charm are criminals, psychopaths without charm are lawyers.” -me
(essay below, but first) I only applied to Seattle U, and got in. It was the worst school experience I have ever had. Although I graduated, I did it on my own. The teachers and staff are the laziest people I have ever met on earth. No wonder they went from number 20 to 102 on US News and World.
Imagine your whole grade is based on one test at the end. Imagine getting a C even though you worked your butt off. Imagine going to look at your exam and finding NOT ONE SINGLE MARKING ON THE ENTIRE THING. It has been printed out since you took it on a laptop, but you can't even tell anyone has touched it. You can't tell what you did right or wrong. Imagine contacting the instructor (I refuse to use the word professor, because really they aren't) and asking to talk to him/her about your paper so you can find out what you did wrong. Imagine they 1. ignore you altogether (Henke), 2. tell you there is no way they are meeting with you because then they have to meet with EVERYONE (DeLong), or 3. you set up a meeting and in the meeting they tell you they are not going to go over your test, but that you should some buy some $30 book instead (Getting to Maybe) and you do buy it and read it, and instead of a C on your next final, you get a C- (Ainsworth).
I started the first Criminal Justice Society at the school and was the president for two years and the school hated me for it for some reason. I started something called the Murder 101 Project so that students could work on real-life murder cases with local attorneys, and they about crapped themselves over the concept/name even though the local attorneys loved it. If an attorney wanted to give our club a donation the school would not allow it, the money had to come to the school and then they could give it to whomever they wished (themselves I'm sure).
Anyway, every lawyer I have met since graduation has been a bigger nightmare than the one before (greedy, homophobic/racist/classist, dumb, lazy, cheaters). Imagine you graduate law school and your first job out your boss (at a single lawyer criminal defense firm) wants you call a few people and them to sell 1. Their father’s watch they inherited when the father died, and 2. Their truck, so that they could pay the attorney. Things went DOWNHILL from there. Even the friends I made at law school I cannot stand to be around anymore. Even my best friend who I worked with so we could both get in (she graduated first) I can't stand (she's working for banks in bankruptcies against poor people - way to go Hilary!).
Anyway, I’m doing tech support now because my husband begged me not to law anymore because it was depressing me to the point of almost no return. I love the people I work with, which I found out is more important than what I do.
So here’s my essay, sad as it seems after this whole law debacle. I now have a saying, “Psychopaths with charm are criminals, psychopaths without charm are lawyers.”