I was born with a unilateral cleft lip and palate, this was devastating for my parents who had no idea of what was to come: years of rushing to doctor appointments, taking loans out for surgeries, having to see me being picked apart by my appearance, helping me recover from every operation, it was a burden most parents would never have to deal with. The pain of looking different was a big mountain to climb, I struggled for years with feelings of inadequacy and trying to get my physical appearance align with what was inside. Yet the NYU Langone medical center saved me. In the waiting room, I would meet many children with cleft disfigurations just like me, I was able to connect with them through the NYU medical center. It facilitated our sense of belonging, my parents were told this was the best place in the world to go for treatment. I first entered its doors as an infant, Dr. Cutting …show more content…
From then, I realized what incredible things NYU did for not only me, but everyone in New York. For this very reason, my brother was born at NYU medical center. I have had many life milestones in this hospital. That is what made me decide to apply, when I visited the university, I loved how close it was to Washington Square Park, the location is incredible, and the whole city is the campus. I am interested in the New York campus because it is one of the most global cities on earth, it is also my hometown, and as someone who intends on majoring in International Relations, it is the perfect place to be. I am open to studying abroad, as I have lived in Germany and Singapore, and would love to travel more and encourage myself to be a global citizen. With attending NYU, I would have the opportunity to complete my story of having had NYU facilitate my strength, my perseverance and now, my knowledge and
As a prospective medical student, I will be a great asset to the University Of South Carolina School Of Medicine Greenville (USCSM Greenville) by devoting all my time and life to becoming an excellent compassionate physician. I want to use my experiences and unique gifts in a productive way to add value to my community.
At a young age, my teachers and parents taught me to believe that I could do and accomplish anything that I set my mind to. I grew up thinking that I was unstoppable and that the only limit to my achievements was the sky. However, during my second year in high school, I began to realize that I was not as unstoppable as I had thought. I began to experience the consequences of my parent’s decision of bringing me to the United States illegally. Among those consequences were, not being able to apply for a job, obtain a driver’s license or take advantage of the dual enrollment program at my high school, simply because I did not possess a social security number. I remember thinking that all of my hard work was in vain and that I was not going to
Form N-400 is otherwise known as the application for US Naturalization. I have started and stopped filling out form N-400 half a dozen times in the past few years. Most recently, I used the excuse that I couldn’t read all of the dates in my passport. Thus I could not give the relevant dates for when I had left and reentered the country over the necessary time period. The other day I downloaded the form again but now I can’t find my passport.
I have always been asked the same question, whether it be at the fountain in Washington Square Park or by a stranger sitting next to me at Cafe Reggio. It starts with a friendly smile then they pop the question, “So do you go to NYU?” and it pains me to provide an answer each time. It’s my dream to be able to say yes to that question, to be able to walk past the buildings of NYU and feel a sense of belonging replace the one of the longing that has been in my heart since my father would hold my hand as we crossed streets to get to Bleeker Street Records as to not lose me in crowds of college studnets. Rather than turn to my friends and say “That’s where I’m going to go” as we pass the Waverly Building, I hope the friends I make in school and
It would be very hard to be an immigrant in the United States. I spoke to my coworker that is an immigrant from Albania and discussed how my life would be different. The first thing that would be considered would be living away from the rest of your family and missing them. We discussed how in Albania everyone knew their neighbors, and living here some people do not know their neighbors. I was told that the style of living is very different here, for example, when a person goes into a coffee shop in the United States they are usually in and out, but in Albania people actually sit down with a friend and drink your coffee. I think that would be awkward for me because I have never sat down at a coffee shop. I believe I
I am a low-income, Mexican immigrant fighting to receive a full ride into a prestigious university. I was taught to believe that education would be the only way to achieve a life in which my children would not worry about my twelve thousand dollar debt that my parents and I sweat about today. A search for greater opportunities is part of the reason why I left my beloved home and became an immigrant in a country in which a politician describes me as a mere criminal or rapist. A country where residents of Arizona protest against me, demanding my people to return to Mexico when they themselves are immigrants.
Pick up any newspaper today and look no further than the front page headlines. What you will read is a story about hundreds, if not thousands, of men, women, and children who have been scared away from their homes and stripped of basic human rights, like healthcare, security, and education. All over the world, people are reading this same story of families in Syria being uprooted by civil war, or schoolgirls being kidnapped in Nigeria-or migrants searching for freedom in a foreign land. As Americans, we tend to forget about the journey we all share together, regardless of race, gender, creed, or nationality. So when I think about where I am going, I can’t help but think about the events that have made my story part of a greater global narrative.
America, the land of the free and home of the brave. Our magnificent country is sought as a new homeland for immigrants trying to achieve the american dream. Our country has a poor system in regulating immigration. An account attesting to this is the words of an immigrant himself, Gonzalo, who came here as a child ,however, he was never legalized with paperwork and now finds himself conflicted as he states “I am scared to be deported to a place that I do not know.”This provides insight into the major immigration problems we are facing today, whether it is the overpopulation, threats of deportation, or illegal residents who have not yet gone through the legalization process. America has been known as the land of the free, and is sought as
My mother was the first person to come to America in my family. She came from Ethiopia. My grandfather wanted my mom to have more opportunity so he sent my mom when she was a freshmen in high school. My mom was 14 when she went. My mom was scared because she had no idea and her being 14 and going somewhere she doesn’t know and leaving her family was very hard for her. My mom traveled as a unaccompanied minor on a plane. My mom was in America just for her school and her parents wanted for to stay forever but visit. She went alone but her parents did eventually see her 20 years later. She had to overcome a lot of stuff dealing with immigration. She had to find a relative willing to let them be there guardian and she had to get her green card.
Although I didn’t realize back then, the environment I grew up in Korea lacked diversity. People I knew looked the same as me and spoke the same language. Thus, I faced a series of culture shocks when I first came to the U.S. Particularly, I was shocked by different aspects of diversity and how people were grouped into various racial and ethnic categories. While I didn’t stand out from others back in Korea, in the U.S., I was categorized as an Asian and I was considered as a minority.
On November 19, 2002, I sat next to my loving adoptive parents, in the Moscow airport, waiting to board a plane to the United States of America, to begin my new life as an American citizen. That was the very last thing I remember about my old life back in Russia.
I have chosen to apply to your esteemed university because of your innovative science department. My goal is to major in Biomedical Engineering, so that I can research new ways to support others. Learning and discovering ways to help people with medical challenges is my passion. I will sacrifice many years learning in college, but I can connect this to times when I decide to study late or work on activities that could help my future everyday rather than hanging out with my friends. I understand that being disciplined now will build my strong work ethic.
I came into the thorny topic of immigration almost resentfully, certainly I knew what immigration was, and understood that it was a problem but like many american citizens, I did not want to touch the topic with a ten-foot pole. Especially with our newly elected president and his recently rejected executive order, I found myself wandering further away from the topic as something I could not do anything about. But after studying the topic for the past few weeks in class, I recognize that I must no longer hide from the issue but rather stand with these people and fight for their rights - just like I would for my own fellow citizens.
"Immigration" defined as “to come to a foreign county and take up residence". To most people this is not much but to me it is a big thing. The ability to immigrate to another country is very beneficial, especially t people that might live in a third world country such as Jamaica. It gives them a chance to better themselves and the opportunity that weren't open back in their home country.
I will never forget the very first volume I took out after getting my card at the local branch of the public library, when I was seven. Its title was as unforgettable as the effect it had on me, although I have no recollection of the author's name. Ab the Cave Man transformed my notion of what a book was capable of being. Until then, my contact with reading had been the stultifying Dick and Jane stuff of the classroom -- I had no idea that reading could be fun, that a boy could be transported to another place and another time, and become so engrossed by descriptions and characters that he lost all consciousness of his surroundings, his worldly concerns and the very hour of the day.