Question by catherine t: Editing/Title help- Is there anything you don’t like in this? Also, what’s a good title?
This is a college application essay that is about how you developed a certain personality trait. My teacher told me to take risks, so I wrote about my obsession with cereal. Please just tear this up!!! I really want it to be the best it can!
My family loves breakfast. From the time that I was two until about second grade, one could follow the fragrance of bacon and the loud clanging of pots into the kitchen, where my father created feasts with a little help from Aunt Jemima. Buffets of sausage and eggs were displayed on the kitchen table, and the Mount Everest of all pancake stacks could be found on the counter. But the one breakfast food that was not reserved for weekends was cereal. It was the one item that made its way into our daily schedules, and today the top shelf of our pantry still serves as a home for nearly ten boxes of assorted cereals. Wake up, have a bowl; get home in the afternoon, have another. Hungry after dinner? A box of Special K Red Berries is calling your name. Every member has developed a favorite cereal that we can’t go a week without, and I became part of that addiction at a very young age.
Before the remodeling of our too small, eight room cottage during the spring semester of my sixth grade year, our kitchen lacked a pantry. Instead, we decided to store our Tom Thumb purchases on various appliances. Cans of soup resided on the washing machine, while the apples and oranges sat piled in a bowl on top of the microwave, and the cereal aisle we took home with us every week found its place on top of our white Maytag Refrigerator. In preschool, I regularly watched my assorted family members seize a piece of the cardboard rainbow created by the array of cereal, snatching the box of their choosing with ease. But when I attempted to get a hold of my own beloved Honey Nut Cheerios, I only grabbed air. As a four year old, I didn’t have the arm length of my sisters, both standing over six feet tall, and even standing on my wooden blocks didn’t elevate me to where I could reach the orange and white container. After every attempt, I climbed down from my makeshift staircase, frustrated by my inability to do something that was so effortless for everyone else. I would grudgingly ask the nearest family member for assistance getting the box, and yet another request had to be made for milk. I loathed being so reliant on other people, and when my fifth birthday rolled around, I decided that I was too old to not be in control of getting my own cereal. So, with the help of only a broomstick, I managed to knock a box down from the top of the refrigerator. And despite being told that I was too small to use the gallon carton of milk, I managed to get just enough milk into my bowl, cleaning up the spills instead of crying over them. And as insignificant as a bowl of self-poured cereal is, it marked the day I decided to do things for myself. My shoes had to be tied by me, and a week was spent in my kindergarten class learning how to create the perfect pair of bunny ears. I chose my outfits, often walking out the door in mismatched combinations and messy ponytails. As the years progressed, I decided to take on more challenges by myself. However, I often refused to ask for help in favor of figuring out things for myself. This created many challenges, and although it allowed me to discover vast amounts of information about life as well as myself, it often hindered me.
In high school, I became extremely focused on gaining success based on what I could do on my own. I placed immense pressure on myself to reach the level of my classmates academically, but I never found myself asking others for help, let alone the teacher. Instead, I relied on using Google to learn things I didn’t understand, teaching myself with the notes and study guides the internet provided. This whole method of learning didn’t exactly work out to my benefit, and I was forced to reevaluate my independence. Although my self reliance helped me in many situations, I discovered times when I needed to reach out for help. And while I still love to get my own box of Cheerios, sometimes I have to let someone else pour the milk.
Best answer:
Answer by Help!
I really like it! I was kind of confused until the last paragraph where you tied it all together. The last sentence is great 
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