Write a personal essay on a time in your life in which you felt you were treated unfairly.
#625Lab. Corrected by an experienced examiner, graded as 79/100 with feedback on how to improve below. You may also like: Leaving Cert English Complete Guide (€).
I sat down leaving my heavy arms slapping down on the table in front of me, drained. The sun beamed through the windows like a watchful eye keeping me honest. My t-shirt was drenched with sticky sweat as I groaned in discomfort. My thick all-in-one painting gear had been smeared with the cream coloured paint I was dipping and re dipping my paintbrush into. Monotony had taken over by the time “one kiss” by Calvin Harris played for what felt like the millionth time that day.(L) I wondered was I destined to paint this canteen for the rest of my life.
I was off for the summer and, like any 16 year old had an endless list of activities I just HAD to get done before I started 5th year. In all honesty(L) transition year wasn’t much of a stress on me but breaking up from school still felt like a watershed moment. Temperatures where(M) hitting the high 20’s that week and I remember Id(L) already visited (L)40 foot on Dun Laoghaire pier about three times when my dad brought the walls of my summer dreams down.(L) “I’ve organised two weeks of work for you to keep you busy,”he proudly boasted. My jaw nearly hit the floor. Keep me busy??? Was he joking ? And painting a whole canteen too , I’d never so much as completed a finger painting. The most surprising thing was that he seemed to think he’d done me a favor!!! I literally couldn’t believe it. How was I going to paint this room for a forklifters (M)company I’d never heard of ? How was I even going to get out there ? Why did my dad have to throw my plans down the drain ? It felt like my summer was over.
I composed myself over the weekend but was nevertheless stuck to the bed that Monday morning. My overnight oats starred at me looking particularly unappetizing. I had asked my dad to get me work trousers I could paint in in(L) but I should’ve expected it when he showed up with a blue dungaree-type painting all-in-one. To add insult to injury(L) I was forced to wear a set of ghastly unfashionable hiking boots. My dad walked me into the dusty warehouse and introduced me to the boss and to the rest of the workers. He was wearing one of his sharp suits with a navy tie juxtaposing my much more workmanlike attire. When I spoke to some of the men working there I realized that I was even further out of my comfort zone that I’d first thought. Not only did I have no experience in manual labor but I also didn’t have a thick north Dublin accent . This hasn’t counted against me before in my life but it did here . I have a feeling my dad showing up in his tailored suit didn’t help the situation also. Either way I could tell by their faces that I’d been judged as a kid who wouldn’t know a hard days(L) work if it came up and hit him in the face. There was really only one thing I could do. Prove them wrong.
The next day I made sure my dad didn’t drop me to the door instead letting me walk up the industrial estate road myself. The First(L) thing I had to do was to tape everything. Tape the edges of the roof , the skirting boards , the radiators and he(M) sockets . Not only did I have to prove that I could work hard, I had to prove that I could do a good job. I ripped the lid of the fresh paint revealing a light but deep cream color and set about working. There was a novelty to it at first. I found it a bit mad that I was doing this by myself during the summer break. Each day I brought my own food, pasta and chicken. Each day (L)the other workers rather disingenuously offered to give me a lift to the shop but I declined. I was a man on a mission and still felt a bit intimidated by them if I’m being honest. I got the bus home everyday , exhausted but battle hardened. I’d tell my parents of the disgustingly unhygienic toilets and the nostril stinging smell of a concoction of oils they where (M)working on. It was not ideal to say the least but it wasn’t going to stop up(M) I’d finished that room. By Friday(L) the room was looking pretty good in my humble opinion. Time to call the boss and see what he thought. His answer was as complimentary as it was demoralizing: “Yep that looks great, now get onto the second coat.” I can only liken the emotion I felt in that moment as to when a substitute teacher enters the room for a free class only to read out a long list of work to be carried out in our teachers (L)absence.
I was full of the energy youth is stereotypically meant to have by the next Monday and was getting this coat done in half the time. By Thursday(L) I had only a small chunk of the wall to finish. Then, disaster. I lent back to look at the piece of wall I had just completed and tipped the paint bucket. Frantically I tried to clear it up knowing full well I’d be in deep trouble if it was discovered. I was like a man trying to light a cigarette with a damp match, the paint simply wasn’t budging. I was almost done and I’d made this mess for myself. I decided to let it set and pray I could scrape it off. As I sat down , my t-shirt drenched , with the sun shining through the window I wondered was I destined to paint to canteen for the rest of my life. It took me three hours but eventually I’d scraped the paint off the floor adequately. I called John(L) the boss in and with him came the other 10(L) workers to inspect my handiwork. “Don’t know about the color John but I think we have ourselves a little Michelangelo.” I was beaming with pride and I couldn’t hide it. I wanted to Invite the whole world into that room to let them admire my two weeks of painting and repainting. I was chuffed.
I got dropped to the bus by one of the employees named Mark for the last time and when he said good job(l) I knew I had proven their unfair judgement wrong. As I waited for the bus to come a group of boys my age stride up along side me in the latest Nike Air Max sniggering and sneering at the state of my paint smeared outfit. I let out a sly grin to myself , I was getting used to people unfairly judging me.
Good sense of description of events. More reflection and sense of personality needs to be shining through. Issues with punctuation throughout especially comma use.
30-P-25
30-C-23
30-L-22
10-M-9
79