She Never Learned The Golden Rule.
Here is another college application essay I wrote as a “sample” for Shane – based on my real-life experience:
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While riding the bus to school one morning, my friend Frances asked if I did my English homework. Ever the conscientious student I replied, “Of course!”
The homework assignment was particularly fun. We’d read Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll the day before and our assignment was to put actual words into the poem in place of Carroll’s nonsensical words. I’d chosen the perfect logical word for every instance of silliness.
So I beamed with pride when Frances asked to see my homework. She read it as we rode, and gave it back to me when we got off the bus.
Two days later, Frances and I were summoned to stay after class. Our English teacher said that our homework assignments were identical. Unlike a math paper where there’s only one set of answers, Mrs. Wilson explained that this was an unexpected discovery.
I looked at Frances, suddenly realizing that she’d copied my assignment verbatim. She was staring hard at the ground.
I turned to Mrs. Wilson. “I didn’t know she was going to copy my paper,” I stammered. “She asked to see it on the bus but I didn’t know she’d do that.”
“Frances?”
“I did my own paper,” said Frances, still studying the floor.
There was an unbearable pause as the first bell rang, alerting us that we were both going to be late for class if we didn’t leave immediately.
“I guess I have no choice,” said Mrs. Wilson. “Since I don’t know which one of you wrote the original paper, I am going to have to give you both a failing grade.”
Tears sprung to my eyes. I’d worked hard on that paper and this felt entirely unfair. But I was a quiet child, and Frances was supposed to be my friend, so I choked back the tears and nodded.
Naively, I continued to trust Frances. I was new in town and didn’t know her well, but she rode bikes with me in the summertime and she lived on a farm and I thought we’d remain close forever. I didn’t realize she’d later have sex with my boyfriend, get pregnant at 17, and live out her years in that tiny town. It’s likely that she never learned The Golden Rule, which was my internal mantra.
Instead of learning to distrust people, instead I felt pained because that incident was the low point in my academic career, when it should have been a high point. I love to write; I loved choosing each word to “fix” Jabberwocky into a strong, solid, meaningful poem. I loved doing it so much that even after The Great Homework Incident of ’78, I wrote a brand new version of Jabberwocky. This time I used my own nonsensical words, creating a third version of the classic poem with somewhat flimsier words that made different points entirely.
I just loved words. And I got a failing grade after working with words. This reminded me not only to keep my work to myself until after it was graded, but that I cherished writing every bit as much in ninth grade as I did when my fourth grade teacher first asked us to keep a weekly journal. So I hope to keep writing for as long as I possibly can.
Meanwhile, I moved away from Frances and the tiny town. But as I’ve aged, once in awhile, I’ve gone galumphing back.