Fordham

Fordham Essay Essay, Research Paper

#3 Discuss your goals for the next four years and comment on your post-college plans.

?Next stop, 66th Street and Lincoln Center, ? bellowed the cracked voice of the

conductor over the loudspeaker. Those words rang in my ear like the notes of a

familiar melody. Stepping off the number three train, I was immediately immersed in

the scents, sounds and faces of my past. All the wonderful memories of those four

years came rushing back into my mind as if they had just occurred. I was finally

returning to my birthplace, my home, my origin; my Fordham University.

When I arrived at the campus the first person I saw was my former acting

instructor, the great Larry Sacharow. Just seeing him set me awestruck with

happiness; it was in his class that my career really took off. ?Professor Sacharow,? I

shouted, over the hustle and bustle of the crowded city sidewalk. We finally caught up

to each other and exchanged blissful remarks. We spoke of all the wonderful things

which have been happening since I successfully completed his class in my sophomore

year and how I was offered a spot in Les Miserables and how the references and

contacts he gave me opened countless windows of opportunity. One of his references

course for the 12th grade. He was ecstatic! I couldn?t express to him enough how much

I enjoyed his class and all the lectures and theatre games we played. It is those little

things that I remember most.

After our joyful trip down memory lane, Professor Sacharow (who preferred me

to call him Larry which I just couldn?t do out of plain respect) led me into the lobby of the

residence hall where a mural of myself hung on the east wall. I remember the day the

university dedicated that lobby to me for my outstanding achievement. My friends and I

had led a fund rally for the school to raise money for the many programs which would

be affected by the enormous tax hike in the fall of ?99. We eventually raised over five

million dollars for the university and prevented the cutting of many of the school?s fine

programs. My fellow thespians, Susan, Richard and the rest of the Theater Acting III

class, told the President of what I had organized and how successful it had been. The

marvelous mural and dedication was a token of the university?s gratitude. I was brought

to tears. I felt that this wasn?t only the work of myself, but of everyone who had

participated. I didn?t deserve such an esteemed honor. To give credit to all of my

friends, I had each and every one of them sign their name at the bottom of the mural in

bright red oil-paint under a message which read, ?This achievement was not won by

the strength of one person, rather it was won by the mass of an unrelenting army.?

The day seemed to pass by in a nanosecond. After leaving Professor

Sacharow, I proceeded back to the subway to catch the number three back uptown to

my friends apartment. Waiting on the platform I was reminded of how all the great

things in my post-adolescent years were credited to this one place; this profound seat

of natural energy and talent where one enters with nothing and leaves like a brimming

garden of knowledge just waiting to trickle it?s seeds onto waiting barren patches of the

earth. The thought hovered in my mind for quite a while as the ring of the turn-style bell

echoed in my ear……ring……ring…….ring…………..?Joey, it?s time to wake up! The bus

will be here soon,? whispered my mother. What a wonderful dream.