Sample 1 | Sample 2 | Sample 3 | Sample 4| Sample 5
Student Example - Character Sketch # 1
Appearances Are Deceiving
Picture your school’s busiest hallway. Now, picture an eighteen-year-old girl racing towards you at top speed frantically yelling out your name. She instantly slides to a stop in front of you and so casually asks, "So …what’s up?" and slowly strolls away. This insanely energetic girl has the down-to-earth name L.and is one of my best friends.
Now imagine this event happening to you at least once a week, never when you are expecting it; yes, I’m the victim every time. Her mousy brown tomboyish hair is always crawling out in a different direction. She always seems like a mischievous elf with bright eyes and a perfect smile – a contagious perfect smile that gives me the feeling that she is up to something; something that will undeniably bring us both to trouble. L. is the kind of person that gets these crazy and fun ideas, like going trick-or-treating in the middle of May, or deciding that we should play our guitars on the sidewalk and see if we make any money. She has this bounce in her walk, and she tells hilarious stories that never fail to make anyone laugh.
At first sight and first friendship, it would seem impossible to believe this girl could be anything but hilariously funny, incredibly loving, smart, and someone you could trust to the grave. It’s hard to believe that so many negative feelings are building in her and that she keeps them locked away. It’s hard to believe that her make-up-free, slightly tanned face, that has always appeared natural and true, is just as much of a mask of thickly layered make-up. Appearances are deceiving. It takes years to gain her trust and she desperately fears disapproval; she has been let down by so many people in her life.
She feels uncomfortable telling me about her family life . . . It crushes me that she feels uncomfortable telling me her father . . . got married . . . and she still hasn’t told me. I recently came upon this information when I stopped by her house. L. wasn’t home, but a strange woman answered the door, so I asked who she was. Imagine my surprise and embarrassment, and hers, when she had to tell me that she was L. 's step-mom. I realized at that moment that I’ve never really communicated with her on a personal level. This "Girl Interrupted" truly fears people feeling pity, or anything negative towards her. She needs to put on that tough-girl appearance and crazy attitude to appear strong and "together" like others.
She let me look through the pictures in her wallet last year. A packet of cocaine parachuted to the floor. Cocaine–my best friend was taking cocaine, and no one knew about it. She gave no one the chance to help her or convince her to stop it. At this point, she was sniffing it three times a week. This terrifies me to tears, and whenever I try to talk to her about it, or even bring the topic up, her face loses all emotion and her eyes lose their sparkle. I know that she is frantically trying to concoct another topic to switch the conversation to. It’s as if her face is drawn on a chalkboard and someone has just erased the happy impression drawn there, and all that is left is the blurred and emotionless shadow from where it lay. She does so many things that eat away at her mind. She refuses to let any girl touch her unless it is one of those rare touching, special moments. If you do chance to dare to give her a hug, it’s best to run like hell because she’ll be right behind you to knock you down.
Indeed, this one-of-a-kind girl, L. ,has got what seems to be the perfect life going for her. She has one of the most crazy and outgoing personalities that would make anyone jealous. However, if you dig just beyond the surface, you will find a whole different story. All of her problems throughout life have seemed to just lump into one gigantic problem, which has sent her to cocaine for the solution. I know that the barrier she has between herself and others will never be let down for help, so I hope everyday that she will find it in herself to forgive what needs to be forgiven and solve whatever problems need solutions. It is this that leads me to truly believe that appearances are deceiving. - Tracy
Sample Student Essay # 2 - Character Sketch
Grandpa
His slight bent knees and hunched back made it inconvenient for Grandpa to walk correctly. He walked at such a slow pace. He wore corded slippers that were too big for him. I remember being in the front room and hearing the clippity-clop of his slippers as he walked from the kitchen to the front room. Grandpa’s slippers were always too big for his big feet.
Likewise, his belt had to hold up his sagging pants that were too big for him. Grandpa had a tremendously big wardrobe; however, I never saw him wearing anything but his old khaki trousers that were too big and a white T-shirt. He wore the same things until they were so worn out that they couldn’t be worn anymore. . . .
Grandpa lived by what he preached. He always said that we, the grandchildren, should read and write every day. He himself kept shaky handwritten day-to-day notes of his activities and his yellow stained fingers, the majority of the time, were clenched onto a newspaper. When I visited him, he wanted us to read to him a story book or the Bible. He sat on his favorite reclining chair, which had been already molded to the shape of his body. Then, I sat on his lap and lay my back against his protruding belly. He had his black-rimmed reading glasses on his large nose, all set to help me. His bushy white eyebrows rose, his eyes glistened, and his ears attentively listened.
Waste was one word Grandpa never knew the meaning of. There were times when I couldn’t finish a meal, so he pushed his empty plate to the side and asked me to pass mine over. With his greasy face full of food, and jaws working hard to finish his last bite, he started to clear my plate until it was also spotless. Or, Grandpa wrapped the food up to snack on it later that night. He never liked it when good food was thrown to waste. He would have rather stuffed himself full than to see food thrown out.
He was the same with junkyard clutter as he was with food. What everybody in our family called junk, is what Grandpa claimed to be his treasures. I visited him on the weekends and had a field day. He lived in a house that held two flats and an attic. The three floors were jammed with huge bags full of rubber bands, empty plastic bags, old clothes, old cologne, old books, hangers, and old telephones. All the treasures he saved over the years for later use accumulated to three floors of clutter.
Grandpa was not concerned with what people thought of his treasures or his poor job of sewing on the gluteous-maximus seamline. He loved his family and that is all he cared about. He tried to teach the important values of life. To this day, I unconsciously stuff myself to finish the food on my plate. - Christine
Sample Student Essay # 3 – Character Sketch
An Old Friend
I opened the door to the garage and immediately fixed my eyes on what was parked in the third stall. The reflection of the light above shone off the white paint and seemed to be directed only at my eyes, as if to say, "I’m glad you’re home, it’s been a lonely summer without you." I smiled, and gave a nod of agreement. A crisp autumn breeze blew, giving me a nudge in the right direction.
I walked quickly past the two other vehicles parked in the garage, barely noticing their existence. As I came around the back of my car, I noticed a blanket of dust covering it as it slept for three months. Filling my lungs to capacity with air that tasted like a mixture of motor oil and cleaning solvents, I thought of how this blanket would soon be lifted by the elements. As I exhaled, a small cloud of dust arose from the roof. The sandman was sent off to another location.
The handle of the door gave me a friendly handshake as I lifted it up and pulled open the gateway to adventure. I looked to the passenger seat. An eerie sense of anticipation overcame me as the scent of Drakkar opened the door to many memories once taken for granted. The seat sat empty, except for the store-bought satchel filled with "imposter" fragrance. The dark blue interior made me recall why fresh air had not entered through the windows, and why they were closed, for so long. The relationship between car and driver doesn’t matter to a Company Commander, no matter how close.
I lowered myself into the driver seat, which was molded to fit the contours of my familiar body. The warm cloth seat gave me a welcoming hug as I carefully shut the door. I was now sealed in my carefully preserved passage to freedom. A sigh of relief seemed to be uttered as I turned the handle which opened the window, allowing a breath of fresh air to enter.
Mind and body were separated as the index finger of my right hand pushed the round button on the visor above my head. A sentimental feeling rushed over me, while my hands and feet were anxious to begin the journey to making new memories. In my right hand I held the key. The key fit in the ignition like a spoon entering a starving man’s mouth. My left foot was pressed to the floor, holding back the tension from the clutch as my hand turned the key. The sweet hum of the engine filled the once quiet country garage. As I smiled in the rear view mirror, my busy hand moved the shifter lever to the R position. My left and right feet moved in perfect unison, like a couple dances together at their fiftieth wedding anniversary. As we exited the driveway, they were doing the waltz of freedom. – Dede
Sample Student Paper # 4 – Character Sketch
Excitement filled the room as the troops assembled for the weekly pilgrimage. A ten- mile journey lay between our Great Grandmother’s arms and us. Great Grandma was always so excited to see us children; she acted like she could not hug us quick enough or hard enough. "Come here my little Mushkas!" she would say. Great Grandma’s face is burned into my memory. At times I can smell her sweet, soft skin, hear her warm melodic
voice, and still feel her tender love. At ninety-nine years of age, she was an intricate part of our family.
Her daughters–my grandmother Eleanor and my great aunt Leona–took turns watching Great Grandma, making sure she didn’t get into too much trouble. After all, this was the woman who taught me how to throw horse apples at the kids who lived next door. It was funny until they ran away crying. Great Grandma exploded with laughter as she screamed "RUN, RUN."
Great Grandma was also an expert when it came to telling the temperature. She came from the old school where it was proper to wear many layers of underclothing. The neighbors were able to tell the temperature by counting how many pieces of underclothing were hung on the bushes and trees around the yard. This always bothered my grandmother Eleanor. "Mom-ma, you mustn’t leave your underwear hanging around outside. What will the neighbors think?" Great Grandma would reply by saying, "They will think that I wear a lot of underwear and it is very hot out today!"
Great Grandma would always receive bottles of blackberry brandy for her circulation along with boxes of chocolates as gifts from the many members of her family on holidays. Great Grandma knew how to find the best chocolates in a box of mixed chocolates. "Naa, naa, like this," she would say as she poked holes in the bottom of the chocolates with her fingernail. "Mom-ma, the chocolates are no good after you put holes in them. No one will want to eat them." Great Grandmother would laugh and say, "Well, I guess they didn't really want them very bad now did they?"
My Great Grandma taught me it was okay to stretch my boundaries and to set my own course in life. She also taught me to never accept "it can not be done" as an answer. The worst part of visiting Great Grandma was leaving and having to wait a whole week before returning to her arms.
The following week was upon us, and we were in the middle of the weekly ritual, preparing for our pilgrimage, when the phone rang. "Mom, the phone's for you," yelled my youngest brother, Gary. My mother's smile slid off her face as she handed the phone to my oldest sister. "Here, take this," she said as she sank into the big overstuffed chair in the living room. Mom just sat there and held her head in her hands. No more laughter embraced the room. What was I to do? My mother was beside herself with anguish. What was it that had stolen the vivacious smile from her face? For the next few days, very little was spoken, and there was a very solemn air at our home. My mother and her family met several times that week. Still not a tear. Unsteadily, silence just filled our house. Neighbors stopped in with a baked dish along with a kind word. We dressed ourselves and left for the funeral home. A steady stream of people worked their way to the casket where she lay. No one spoke, no one cried. We just needed to know why, why her?
Just like thunder breaking a silent sky, so was the storm that entered the back of the room. It was Great Grandma. She wailed, heart breaking with pain. Her words will be with me always. "My baby! Why God? Why not me? Not my baby! Not my baby!" At that point I could feel my tears release. I hated to see my Great Grandma in such pain. It's hard to picture your grandma as someone's baby, along with having to watch a ninety-nine year- old mother lose her child. Why did God take her so soon? I still needed more time to feel her love and soak in her knowledge of life.
Great Grandma lost her lust for life and her rosy-cheek smile that day. This event changed all of our lives forever. A short time later, Great Grandma was placed in a nursing home, where they drugged her up and made her stay sitting in a wheelchair all day. She complained often about how dumb the "kids" were who lived at the home along with her, and how they could not hold a conversation because they were so confused. I never did see Great Grandma's smile again with her rosy cheeks, which drew down to her sun-filled smile. This was now just a memory; Great Grandma had this great desire to die. Great Grandma left us a short time later. Deep down, I felt she had left us the day that my Grandma Eleanor died. – Carrie
Student Example - Character Sketch # 5
My friend Liz is a true best friend. She always supports me in everything I want to do. When I wanted to go up North, she said she thought it would be a great experience and that it would help me develop my sense of adventure.
Liz is not only a great supporter. She also trusts me to give her my honest opinion and to say what I feel. When she was upset with her sister one time, she asked what I thought about it and I said she should wait and then she would find out the real reason why her sister was mad at her. And it happened that way. She knew she could trust me.
Liz can be a barrel of fun when she is in the mood. I really like when she does silly things. One night, we rented three movies and watched all three while we ate popcorn, cheese and crackers, and a whole box of chocolates. We gabbed about everything and even imagined what it would be like to live like some of the characters in the movies.
Since my best friend is now living over 500 miles away, I miss all the laughter she brought to my life and the times I could ask her opinion on things that troubled me. But I can still hear the sound of her voice and ask her opinion on the telephone!
Borrowed from:
http://cw.mariancollege.edu/jburns/Comp05/descriptionstudent_example.htm