Personal statement: purpose and structure

Personal Statement

Marcy, a sixth grader with large brown eyes, blonde hair, and severe behavioral problems, stared up at me as her fingers fondled the puzzle pieces. The intensity of her gaze took me aback; I imagined what brimmed inside her little brain. I had worked as a special education instructional assistant for several months before I started working with Marcy. My supervisor spent a full hour explaining Marcy's background to me along with her special needs. The girl had been a victim of physical and sexual abuse and was recently placed in a foster home. Since she was five she had acted destructively toward others and toward herself: she set fires, stole things, hit other children, and threw frequent tantrums. When I peered into her eyes, anger obscured any other thought or emotion. I wanted to badly to break through that barrier between Marcy and me so I could help her at least find some solace in her peers: she had no friends. My mind rushed through everything I had learned so far in psych classes and in my textbooks. I wanted a quick fix for this girl. Yet I knew that no number of theories was going to help Marcy, who I suspected hid a wealth of creative or academic talent behind her well-constructed facade.

A walked away from her monetarily to work with some of the other students and Marcy cried out, "Wait!" I turned back around to face her and noticed that she held a piece of paper in her hand. She wasn't exactly holding the page out for me to take so I made no motion toward her; I understood that she hated to have her space invaded so I patiently crouched a few feet before her. "Here! Take this," she instructed me, and I did gently remove the page from her now outstretched hand. It was a drawing, embellished with lively finger paints. It was a self-portrait. I could tell immediately from the way she depicted the eyes and the hair. I smiled at her, touched by her desire to give me something of her own, something that came from inside of her. The biggest shock, however, was the expression on her face: when I said, "Thank you, Marcy," she actually smiled back.

I had always known that I would pursue a career in psychology. That much was certain from the time I was nine or ten and I found one of my parent's old psych textbooks from their college days. I remember being overwhelmed by the mysteries of the human brain, a remarkably small organ that even the most deft and brilliant scientists cannot yet comprehend. I read as much as I could on psychology throughout grade school and naturally proceeded to major in psychology in college. However, it wasn't until I began working with kids with special needs that I realized my desired area of specialization in the field. As I recall, my high school counselors assisted me tremendously in narrowing my focus for the future. I owe those men and women the clarity I now possess in knowing that I, too, want to participate in the enrichment and development of kids of all ages.