The author of this diversity statement was admitted to Northwestern Law with a significant merit scholarship despite a below-median LSAT score.
Although my dad tried hard to be a provider, he was so fractured from his time as a field medic in Vietnam that he couldn’t hold a job. When I was very young, he moved my family to a remote area of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where we carved out an existence that was reminiscent of a frontier lifestyle. I milked goats, cut and stacked and split and hauled an endless supply of firewood to feed the voracious appetite of our old barrel stove, slaughtered and dressed wild and domestic animals, gardened, took sponge baths, washed laundry by hand, made soap and candles, and frequently walked the six round-trip miles to the nearest town. Because I would wear the same battered and stained clothes many days in a row, and because I was raised a Mormon, I was frequently the subject of vicious and demeaning taunts and bullying.
My childhood experiences helped foster within me a strong work ethic and a commitment to help those who struggle. I and my wife (who exceeds me in both work ethic and compassion) have opened our home to those who need it for the entire twenty-one years of our marriage. We have housed and fed displaced teenagers, recovering addicts, and even a homeless stranger. We have reunited and adopted three estranged siblings. We have offered employment opportunities to good people who made bad decisions. We purchased and donated a trailer to a former employee who has been incapacitated by schizophrenia. We even built a pad on our land for him to park the trailer.
Although I have many motivations for going to law school, one of them is simply this: I hope to use my degree to help people in more profound ways than I could otherwise.
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