Letter of Recommendation
On a freelance basis, I “ghostwrite” various letters of recommendation, and other types of miscellaneous writing for folks. Below, I’ve included a letter of recommendation I wrote for a student on behalf of a former teacher.
To Whom it May Concern:
I first met Morgan G****** when she was a quick-witted elementary school student. The day I met her, she was unapologetically sharp and good-natured, and she’s been the same every day since. I had the pleasure of being Morgan’s classroom teacher when she was in sixth grade at Centennial Elementary, and in the years since, I’ve had the privilege of watching her grow into an intelligent and outstanding young woman.
In the classroom, Morgan was a diligent and focused student. In 30 years of teaching, I can safely say that Morgan has one of the best work ethics I’ve ever come across. She was always conscientious and helpful to other students, and continually proved her dedication through the quality of her work. Since leaving Centennial Elementary and graduating to “the real world,” Morgan has applied her focus by consistently working part-time jobs (almost her entire high school career) while still taking Advanced Placement courses and maintaining involvement and leadership in extracurricular activities. She has spent extensive time volunteering in my classroom, and last summer she took a mission trip to California with her church to assess homeless shelters and provide aid.
It’s plain to see: Morgan Goodson looks good on paper. However, it isn’t until you experience her positive spirit that you can truly understand what an honor it is to know her. I teach 12-year-olds every single day. Many of them are finding out how to socialize and understand what it means to be a good person. Morgan never struggled with those concepts. She is loyal and strong, fearless and hilarious. She has always been able to enjoy and relate to her peers and adults alike. She has never been shy, always been witty – but most importantly, she has always been a kind and caring person.
Morgan is a fiercely independent individual, and there is no doubt in my mind that she is deserving of any opportunity that may come her way on her path to success.
Please feel free to contact me for any clarification or if I can provide anything further.
Sincerely,
David H******
Sixth Grade Teacher
Centennial Elementary
D******@lewistonschools.net
Law School Entrance Personal Statement
I was accepted to Juris Doctor programs at Brooklyn Law School, Marquette University, Gonzaga Law School, New York Law School, and University of Kansas. I chose to study at Brooklyn Law School before realizing my passion was in writing and not in law. Below I have pasted the Personal Statement that I sent to schools as part of my application.
I clutched my brother’s cold wrist, looking over his bare upper body, contorted in a way I’d only seen in movies. His breathing was shallow, face twisted into an unrecognizable form. “I need to go to the hospital, but don’t wake mom and dad,” he said to me.
Six years prior, I rode passenger seat as my brother drove us home from a baseball game that I had attended, a game that was only his alibi for our parents. I stared at him the whole way home, abruptly beginning a mundane story in my loudest non-startling voice every time he began to veer off the road or nod off.
My brother’s behavior was the source of tension at every family holiday, the source of tears from my mother and anger from my father. He was the source of the confusion of my grandparents and the anxiety living inside our entire family.
I was 13 years old when my brother began his downward spiral into drug addiction; I was 13 years old when I became an older sister to a 15 year old. I was 13 years old when I became an enabler, a time in my life before I knew that word existed and couldn’t have ever guessed its meaning. I was 13 years old when I learned how to efficiently lie to my parents, saving my brother from trouble in hopes he would eventually change his ways.
It wasn’t for a few years that I began to resent my brother for my self-appointed obligations, but I still didn’t stop enabling.
When I was 20 years old, my brother came to visit me in my college town to take me to lunch. After showing up an hour late, he passed out on my couch for hours. We never went to lunch, and I never invited him back. In that moment, I was finished enabling.
I watched him spiral downward in the next year, always wondering how much further down his rock bottom would be. Through his struggles, I knew I needed to fulfill the potential of two successful children for my parents.
When my brother left for Opiate and Heroin Rehabilitation the following year, I finally felt at peace.
For years, I had downplayed small successes in my life: doing well in school, leading education rallies in my hometown, graduating from high school with honors and succeeding in college.
My brother and I grew up in the same house, were raised by the same parents, and were taught the same moral lessons, although it became very clear as I recognized my own path that these were not defining factors in our lives.
No one other than my brother bought the razors to crush the pills, or rolled the dirty one dollar bills as a utensils to snort the powder. While guided by a loving family, it was no one other than myself who chose to pick up the newspaper in search of current events each morning, to go to bed early before big tests or to take a trip to the state capital to speak in front of the Senate Education Committee on Idaho Education reform.
I came to the realization that while I could try to help guide my brother, he was ultimately responsible for his own actions, and I for mine.
I spent all of high school balancing tennis practices and my position as Managing Editor on the school newspaper. I arrived at school early to complete my math homework, and I received good grades. I learned what it meant to live off of caffeine by the time I was 17.
When I started college, I was lost. I was used to living in a world where I only had to worry about parents to please and a brother to protect. I was living alone for the first time, insecure about everything, but ready to succeed. During the first year that I spent taking required classes, I realized that choosing a major and conforming to outside pressures was not necessary. I focused on meeting new people, enjoying the feeling of college classes, and sharing my experiences and life lessons with the diverse group that surrounded me.
The pressure of needing to pick up slack for others never left me. However, I learned to channel it into positive energy. In my attempts to force guidance on my unwilling brother, I learned the proper ways to get through to people of all different struggles and backgrounds, depending on who my brother was that day, who he was on any given drug, what his life was made up of at any moment.
I spent my sophomore year in college as an Academic Program Assistant, learning about first year students from every imaginable background, and helping them all realize every level of fulfillment that comes from academic success.
As a sister of an addict, I have experienced diversity in not only the acquaintances I’ve met through my brother, based on the varying situations he’s put me in (both interesting and uncomfortable), but also in the fact that I have known so many personalities in one person.
Tolerating and loving an addict has taken its toll on every aspect of my family and on every aspect of myself, but it has also taught patience and determination. It has taught me that I am only myself, and not the trials and failures of those surrounding me.
Somewhere between shaking my brother while screaming, unsure if he would wake up, and recognizing his relapse before anyone else did just by the color of his eyes, I lost the fear of failure.