Essay/Term paper: Discuss your goals for the next four years and comment on your post-college plans

Essay, term paper, research paper:  Narrative Essays

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 led me back to my high school
where I am now teaching a college theatre preparatory 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.