Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement
In sixth grade, I took second place in the intermediate piano division at the Lake Geneva Musical Competition in Illinois. Amidst the happy chatter of the winners, my mom and I were silent. On the drive home, I recall saying to her, 'Wo shu le. I lost.' My mom nodded her head, knowing I was disappointed. 'Ma ma,' I promised her solemnly, 'from now on, I'll always win first place.' With success in mind, a conversation that occurred after I immigrated to the United States at age six replayed. During a serious talk with my father, he told me that to succeed as immigrants, we couldn't just be as good as Americans, we had to prove ourselves to be better. With my father's words in mind, I kept my promise to my mother; from that year on, I always won in my age division, beating many expert middle-schoolers and high schoolers alike. My drive to triumph over obstacles was evident, even while I was young. Upon immigrating to the United States, I attacked my biggest obstacle: language. In elementary school, I recall being laughed at for washing my hands in the drinking fountain, being scolded by my teacher for copying a classmate's journal entry because I couldn't understand the assignment, and being called 'chinky-eyes' by a little boy. One day in particular, soon after I came to America, my music teacher said to me, 'Nan, would you please close the door?' Stunned, I didn't know how to react. What was she saying? My mind quickly went over all the English words I knew in my head, but I didn't understand those words. 'Nan, can you close the classroom door?' she said again, slower this time, but with a clear hint of frustration in her voice. I stayed seated. 'Okay, Ben, would you close the door, please?' The boy next to me stood up and pushed the door closed, while I silently wished that I could suddenly grow wings and fly back to China. Walking home from school that day, I promised myself to work hard and learn those and other English words by heart. I would scrawl out English letters on pieces of scrap paper; listen to cartoon characters on TV and try to understand their jokes; and match the pictures to the phrases in Spot Can Run. Through my experience with language, I learned not to give up and not to feel sorry for myself, but instead to work harder. As a result, I was accepted to my school's accelerated English and math programs in fourth grade, where I studied with native English speakers. When the same boy tried to tease me during recess one afternoon, I responded, 'Excuse me! Is your brain malfunctioning?' Stunned by my progress in language, and because he didn't understand the word 'malfunctioning,' he turned and ran off. Since elementary school, I have continued to progress in academics while also exploring activities that connect with my heritage, such as the Asian Culture Club. But one of my greatest satisfactions came in third grade, during a day in music class when the hallway was particularly noisy. I raised my hand and, with a crisp and confident voice, asked the teacher, 'Ms. Van Dike, would you like me to close the door?'
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Minor essay: Typical question of "What is your best achievement?"
I feel that my most notable academic achievements have been those involving my interest in government and politics. Though I have decided that I will not pursue this interest in a career, I still have a true interest in government and will hopefully find a place for it in my college years. But what made all of these achievements possible was my first experience in government. This was my decision to run for Junior Class President, which I find my most significant academic accomplishment. Before my sophomore year, I had never been involved in student government, nor did many classmates know me by name outside of my circle of friends, but I was interested in politics, ready to meet new people, and let fate take me somewhere new. So I filled out the officer application, walked around the student center every lunch for about a month handing out 'Vote Melanie' pins, and taping up pretty glittered posters of propaganda in the hallways. I was ecstatic when I won the election! In addition to the victory, the actual experience of being president made me happier in my school. I met so many people, made a lot of helpful connections, and even made some good friends. It was an amazing experience that has opened many doors of success and happiness for me in my high school career.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Minor essay: Typical question such as "what activity is most meaningful to you?"
My most meaningful commitment has always been my job at Lilies and Lace, a designer lingerie and swimwear boutique. My job as buyer and assistant manager is the foundation for much of my independence and impetus of what I want to study in college and pursue in my career. I have learned a lot and had fun, whether my task is looking at a customer and guessing correctly her bra size (yes, it is humorous) or ordering new merchandise through catalogs and fashion shows. I simply love it.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Open ended question for the common application.
'Start with an eye-catching first line,' advice suggested by my eager English teacher a few days ago. My mom is just as eager, buying the book '100 Successful College Application Essays.' She was trying to aid me in my David and Goliath struggle for a college acceptance, but I found the book to be more amusing than helpful. The advice section of the book left me not only paralyzed with anxiety from all the do's and don'ts but, also, rolling on the floor from laughter. The advice was unrelenting. 'Less is more,' but the more of your personality that you incorporate the better. If you have experienced a tragic event, then write about it, but don't burden the reader with too heavy a load. If nothing thrilling or unique has happened to you, then write about something ordinary, but make sure it's done in a creative, witty, well-written, entertaining and, if possible, mind-blowingly funny way. Demonstrate your superb writing abilities, the book urges, but try not to look like you're trying too hard. Be concise but descriptive, self-assured but not cocky, but, at all costs, 'make sure your essay stands out in a crowd.' Don't give the hard sell but, then, also, don't sell yourself short. 'Pick something you feel strongly about, and just be yourself' my mom commented, as she handed me the book. Alas! The ever present dictum, 'be yourself,' as long as you are not pretentious or boring. Shakespeare always says it best: 'Above all, to thine own self be true.' Of course, there is irony in this statement, the speaker being Polonius, who I'm sure would be making millions today writing guidebooks on how to get into college and, therefore, succeed in life. Can a complex personality really be communicated simply through an essay neatly typed in Times New Roman, size twelve font? Theoretically, the essay is a great tool for students to express their personality that does not come through in the other parts of the application. Practically, however, because students are usually so overcome with paranoia and self-doubt, they just wind up writing the same boring and unrepresentative essay. Either it is the 'I learned how diverse the world is in my trip to (insert country here)' essay or the 'I won the state championship in (insert sport here) because of my unyielding dedication.' Most of the time, the essays do not reveal too much, because students are afraid and write what they think admissions officers want to hear. Though the book states with statistical assurance that there are some 'college studies in which 3% of the essays helped the applicant, 2% hurt the applicant, and 95%, while perfectly respectable, had no effect whatsoever on the admissions decision.' I did not find this particularly comforting; the essay still seems to loom long after the address and extracurricular forms are filled out. I would be curious to read Bill Clinton's essay. Would he have resorted to merely listing his accomplishments, reinforcing his application - a major no-no? Would Bill Gates have come off as a nerd or annoyingly ambitious? As I sit here, slaving over my uninviting computer screen, I wonder if I'm making a mistake and maybe I am offending a sensitive admission officer. But sir or madam, I am not suggesting a total revolution in the college admission process. Just because a few phone lines are down, AT&T does not change its whole management structure. They merely fix the damaged phone lines. I am only suggesting that, maybe, there need to be a few minor changes. I will avoid my protest of the unfairness of the SAT's and I'm saving that for the Fordham University application. An interview may be a good alternative to the essay, albeit it can be judged just as subjectively, but the student would have more time to convey her personality. I don't claim to have the answers, but I'm bringing on the questions. In some respects, I'm putting forth one aspect of my personality: my questioning of authority and accepted ways of doing things. This is my chance to take a stand, step outside the box, a rare opportunity when the all-too-small square of my high school world is the size of an Abercrombie and Fitch gift box. Here's my chance to protest to Admissions Officers everywhere (or, at least, to the schools I am applying to and willing to pay $100,000 to go to)! Come to think of it, now that my essay is done, the book may have actually served a purpose.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Describe the Future?
Tossing, turning, sleep has completely escaped me. I sit up and stare at the clock and see that its 5 am. Giving up on sleep, I make my way out of bed and towards the bathroom. I wash my face and look at myself in the mirror and I think to myself, 'Have I achieved what I set out to accomplish eight years ago?' In college, I set out on a quest that would lead me to my ultimate goal: becoming a doctor. The next eight years that followed were the most memorable and most grueling times of my life. Undergraduate life was a very emotional time for me. I knew what I had to do if I wanted to even have a prayer of getting into medical school. I studied long and hard, making sure I would keep my GPA high, but at the same time tried to involve myself outside of the classroom and with the community. Getting great grades and MCAT scores wasn't going to be enough. I would have to be involved, not because I had too, but rather because I enjoyed these things that served as escapes from organic chemistry and biochemistry. I was able to gain clinical experience by volunteering in a hospital and working in a research lab year round. However, my real strength lies in the fact I was able participate and enjoy various other activities completely unrelated to medicine. My love for sports motivated me to write for the school newspaper, and I have loved journalism ever since; I have been writing freelance for various newspapers since that day. I also grew to love politics and government in college. I was always one to read the newspapers, but actually being able to think and debate was a new experience that I quickly took a hold onto, running for student government, becoming a leader, and gaining life skills that I would use in the future. Furthermore, I became a better person religiously through my involvement with religious student organizations and volunteering my time back to the community. Through organizations like Habitat for Humanity, Alternative Spring Break, and countless others I was able to give back to others who were less fortunate than me. My love of space and the stars motivated me to take some classes on astronomy and in due time I plan on applying to the astronaut corps as a mission specialist to fulfill a childhood dream. College opened up so many new horizons for me that I didn't even realize existed. There were so many times in college I thought about quitting, but I kept persevering, working twice as hard, all for the same goal. When I got that medical school acceptance letter in the mail, I was ecstatic, yet even more focused at the same time. I could not take it easy because the road only grew more treacherous. In college, I became more of a whole person. I had memorable experiences, met people who become life long friends, and prepared myself for the next challenge that lay ahead, medical school. I thought organic chemistry was hard. Medical School blew any notion of hard that I ever had out of the water. Having to bear through cutting open a cadaver for the first time in gross anatomy took its toll. Many nights of thinking about whom that person was and what their story was frightened me and made me question what rationale behind bearing this. Studying brutally long hours, well into the night every day, and then using the weekends to catch up on everything that I couldn't possibly cram into a six hour weekday study session. The clinical rounds, the USMLE's, the large workload, I knew full well what I had gotten into, and somehow found solace in the fact that once medical school was over, I would be able to use my talents to help others and make a difference in their lives. That day finally came, graduation, I finally received my white coat, the fruit of all my labor. Yet somehow, this was only a beginning, not an end, I still have to use the talents that I have received and apply them into the real world. No amount of medical education can prepare me for what I am going to face this morning. When I first step into the hospital as a full fledged resident for the first time, it will be a new beginning. I will see things I have never seen before, feel things I have never felt before, but at the end of the day I can finally say 'I have arrived.' I have reached the destination, but its all about the journey. As I make my way back to my unmade bed, I think to myself with a smile in face, I've accomplished everything I've wanted and even more.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement
As I entered the nursing home, the smell of medicine and illness choked me. Just a minute ago I was outside feeling the warm sun against my skin and hearing the familiar sounds of the ocean waves. Now I found myself in a cold corridor, surrounded by white walls, and the only audible sounds were muffled conversations as I passed each room. I was warned before arriving at the nursing home that my grandfather looked different, that he had his leg amputated and that he had lost much weight. I was also warned that his Alzheimer's had gotten so bad that he was barely able to recognize the people that he saw on a daily basis. I was told not to feel hurt if he didn't remember who I was. My grandfather lay in his traditional button down shirt with his eyes tightly closed. I looked away when I noticed the tubes inserted into his arm. I was shocked to see that my grandfather's once tanned skin was now pallid and dry. My aunt who has seen him everyday in this same position gave him a little shove and told him that my mother and I were there to see him. As a child, my trips to Puerto Rico were marvelous. My grandmother had 11 children, so I found myself surrounded by aunts, uncles and cousins all day. Our vacations are filled with endless days on the beach, barbecues, shopping trips and lots and lots of sightseeing. My grandfather was always forgetful, and when I was younger I really enjoyed this part about him. I would walk to the local bodega and on my way there my grandfather would ask me if I had enough money to get candy. I always responded yes, however I knew that he would give me an extra 50 cents or even a dollar to get bonus treats. On the way back he would stop me again and say he was sorry for not seeing me on the way there and would give me an extra quarter or 50 cents for my next trip. Sometimes hed even get me a small bag of candy after dinner and excuse himself for not being able to buy me sweets throughout the entire day. This continued day after day until I had accumulated massive amounts of candy in my suitcase. My grandfather had diabetes, but my grandmother had a sweet tooth and I always made sure to share these goodies with her. My candy supply became so massive that I would always have to give everything away before coming back home. When my grandfather awoke, his bright blue eyes comforted me and reminded me that he was still the same person I remembered. We spoke with him for a while about how he was feeling and the weather. He asked 'Who are you?' when he saw my mother and aunt. They reminded him but only several minutes later, he would ask the same question. He didn't seem to notice me in the room until I said 'What about me?' I didn't expect him to remember, I only wised that perhaps something would spark his mind. He looked at me with those deep eyes and said 'Nenie,' his nickname for me when I was younger. It had been years since I heard that word and it gave me great joy that he had remembered who I was. My grandfather went on to tell me how beautiful I had grown and that he had high expectations for me in the future. He reminded me that I will face tremendous challenges in my years ahead, and repeated over and over again that school was the foundation of all my successes to come. He reminded me that with determination and a good heart, anything can be achieved. This speech was no different than the ones he had always given me before; however, I had a feeling that it would be the last. As I assured him that I was doing well in school and was determined to continue studying, he seemed to get stronger. Our talk was cut short an announcement reminding us that visiting hours were coming to an end, and that we may be able to return tomorrow. As we walked out of his room, he told me that he will always watch over me and that he loved me very much. He still could not understand who these two women were next to me, and why they insisted that they knew him. My grandfather passed away only two months after this visit. I am extremely grateful that I was able to share these moments with him before he passed away. In school and at work, I am constantly reminded of him when someone performs a generous act, and I tell myself that is exactly what my grandfather would have done. I believe that he lives inside me and guides me everyday. My grandfather has always inspired me to help others. His loving nature and big heart are remembered by all who knew him. As I deliberate about my plans to study medicine and go into the field of biomedical engineering, my grandfather's words constantly run through my mind. My grandfather's moving speeches will forever be inscribed in my heart and his desire to help others is a trait that I will carry inside of me forever.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Name one thing (and only one) that expresses who you are.
As clichi as it may be for a girl to love the color pink - there is no color that better expresses who I am. Pink is the only color that suits all of my moods. Pastel pink is the color of my aura when I feel calm and relaxed. When I am excited, hot pink is my defining color. Some shades of pink are closer to the red spectrum, which create a mood of power and anger. The shades of pink that are lighter and more associated with white seem angelic and peaceful. There are shades of pink which are closer to the color blue, which create a purple hue; I would associate these shades with passion and romance. I have been through many stages with the color pink alone. As a baby, I had no choice whether or not to embrace this color. It was just chosen for me. As I grew a little bit older, I loathed the color pink thinking it was just for babies. I searched for colors which would be more accepting to the middle school crowd. Silver and deep blues were the colors of my middle school years; however they never fully captured my real personality. A blue shirt with jeans and sneakers just didn't appeal to me like a pink shirt with jeans and sneakers. I just loved the contrast. In high school the color pink once again became my identity. My dress for the annual military ball was hot pink which accented my desire for a fun and exciting afternoon. My winter jacket is a soft pink shade which nicely highlights the snow outside. Without noticing, I will pick up a pink scarf in the store over a red one, I will use a pink binder in school and carry pink pencils unintentionally. The color pink has grown to be a part of my personality that I absolutely love.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement
'Hey! wassup?' -'Not much, u?' 'Haha same, just doing hmwk' -'yea me too' Welcome to the world I have looked forward to everyday since the beginning of my adolescent days. I seem to find myself anxious to sign on with the rest of the world and get caught up in the web of online personalities. I watch my fingertips swiftly caress the smooth keys with a clickity-clack that soon becomes music to my ears. My parents can't help call it an obsession, but I've befriended the little yellow running man. AOL Instant Messenger has become a key to unlocking a whole new side to who I am. My parents have generously granted me the title of a promising student and an ambitious daught, but what about simply being a confused teenager looking for others in the same boat? 'dude I wish it were Friday, I wanna go out' -'I know, same here' In our world of messaging, we create the rules. The mundane phrase of 'whatever' can answer all sorts of questions from 'what should I have for lunch?' to 'what is the meaning of life?' Simplicity at its finest; things dont always have to be so complicated in our fabricated, or rather, online world. I remember my good friend and I always having a blast talking online, often mocking how pathetic it is, then pointing out how we are such hypocrites. One day though, she broke out of the conventional conversational style. 'do you ever get that gut feeling where you know something's wrong??' I thought it to be a trivial matter and apathetically replied, -'yea sometimes, but it goes away. Hope you feel better soon babe!' and gradually brought everything back into the prospective of the nonchalant Instant Messenger world. I shudder as I realize how I instinctually talked my way out of her facing her problem, dismissing her IM of possessing any serious implications. However, I'm forced to remind myself it's just more convenient this way; we all just want to be okay, or at least pretend we are. Escaping problems in reality is not possible; thus, the online world becomes our haven. Recently though, I've begun to realize the difference between who I am and what I IM. Though now I'll never really know whether my friend's problem was serious or not, it's a consequence of instant messaging I've come to accept. It's becoming even harder to decipher one another as we disguise ourselves behind bubbly screen names. We've all become personas of someone we want be. IM seems to have created mass confusion in distinguishing peoples' true identity and simultaneously decreased the self-confidence of many users. It seems as though people willfully reveal secrets in the world of 2' by 4' windows, but hesitate when they come back to reality. I fear the ignorance of being unable to distinguish reality from facades. I hope to steer away from this technologically advancing world, go back to conversations over Starbucks hot chocolate, to sign off from fantasy, and check into reality. It's becoming far too easy to slip between who you are and who you want to be. The gap between 'I am' and 'IM' is gradually decreasing, and it's becoming harder each day to distinguish the difference. I'm afraid. The ability to transform one's own image has now been placed in the hands of 11 year-olds. People will continuously strive to perfect an aspect of themselves, and technology has now provided them an outlet to do so. As for me though, I want to be liked for who I am, not who I am pretending to be. So the next time I am online, I will be real. Deception and confusion are two states of mind the world can do without. 'I am certain.' X.Y. has logged off. Session concluded at 3:14 PM.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Tell us about who you are. Personal Statement
EARLY ACTION Essay One. Korean-Spanish, that was how my American friends identified me. Unlike Korean, my birth identity, or Spanish, my cultural identity, I did not know what to make of my new identification. Korean-Spanish reflected my past and it seemed that this new identification was my only possible one in America. Somehow my American friends were fascinated by a 16-year-old Korean boy who came from Spain and spoke four languages fluently. Maybe Korean-Spanish was how I really identified myself. Or maybe I had already guessed that my new friends would hyphenate my identification, just like African-American, or Japanese-American. (Pardon me if I am wrong, but to me, it seems as though most of the American identifications include hyphens.) In America, everyone seemed categorized and hyphenated. I read a number of passages in the Critical Reading sections of the SAT I that began by citing articles or books written by different hyphen-identified people. One introductory paragraph said: 'This passage is from a book written by a Chinese-American woman about Chinese-American women writers.' Another stated: 'This passage is from a book by an African-American woman who is a law professor.' I was confused: 'So, is the author of the book African or American?' Hyphenation of identities was perplexing and ambiguous to me. Why cant everyone with an American passport be just American? America has always been an eclectic society where much diversity in ethnicity and race existed. In that sense, America is more than just a country; it is a smaller representation of the world. However, Spain and Korea have always been, and still are, countries mostly populated by people of single ethnicities. Spain and Korea both want to maintain the country among their people and limit opportunities for foreigners. They have to change. I was blessed to be able to live in three different countries, on two different continents. My intercontinental life has given me the ability to perceive the world from a different point of view. Before I realized, the American culture found its place in me and naturally became part of me. I no longer am just Korean-Spanish, but Korean-Spanish-American. As I assimilated the diverse cultures each continent represented, my international experiences helped me to understand that underneath, people were very much the same regardless of their ethnic backgrounds. Maybe that was why I felt that learning many languages English, Spanish, and French was essential. I believe that foreign people and cultures can only be truly understood through their own languages. Yet, I hold onto my native language, Korean, for I know how important my roots are. Ironically, even though the world is being globalized, ethnicity, race and religion still cause friction among people. I hope, with my international experience, I can help make the world change into one in which ethnicity and race are of little consequence. I am convinced that through understanding, tolerance, and acceptance, we can make a difference in this world. It is time to begin a journey towards the shaping of a truly globalized world, where I hope to act as an unbreakable bond among different countries.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
What invention had the greatest impact in your life?
If somebody were to ask me, 'What invention had the greatest impact in your life?' I would not hesitate to say 'jigsaw puzzles.' The jigsaw puzzles had the biggest impact on my life. Since the age of four I became the creator of many things; from Mickey Mouse to Guggenheim Museum of Bilbao, Spain. As I matured, the number of pieces needed for creation increased. When I was five, the number of pieces were already exceeding one hundred. While I was struggling with a thousand identical pre-created puzzle pieces, I learned many things, more than just the names of my creations. The puzzles taught me perseverance. Jigsaw puzzles require much concentration and persistence. Beginning with the edges of the puzzle, piece by piece, I created my own Mona Lisa and Bayr Alphen of Germany. I endeavored until the last piece was in its right place for one misplaced piece could ruin the entire creation. When it seemed that I had come to a dead end, I endured until I found the piece that would lead me to the correct path again. I thank jigsaw puzzles for teaching me endurance. The puzzles also gave me motivation and inspiration. As the number of pieces in a puzzle grew, I felt more and more inspired to conquer them. As I created many works of art, I gained confidence, not only in the field of jigsaw puzzles, but also in other activities. I came to believe that there was a solution to every problem and did not hesitate to find an answer when struck by a difficult question. The jigsaw puzzles, in many ways, shaped me into who I am today. I am now creating the most difficult and sophisticated jigsaw puzzle ever, the puzzle of my life. I am molding my own life and building my own shape. I am just about to place another piece in my puzzle of life, applying to the college where I will be spending the next four years of my life. I look forward to finding many interesting pieces I could place in my puzzle of life during the next four years. I would like to think that the yet-to-be completed puzzle will become a whole, made up of the colors and shapes of my heritage, my efforts, my accomplishments and my dreams.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
What is the most significant academic honors you have received?
While I was in Spain, I applied for the Spanish perfection course at "La Escola Oficial d'idiomas" during ninth grade summer vacation. The course offered at "La Escola Oficial d'idiomas," a national language school, requires even the native Spanish speakers to take a qualifying exam. I was qualified and was accepted. The course began at nine o'clock in the morning and ended at half past one in the afternoon, Monday through Friday. At the end of the course, students had to take and pass a rigorous exam in order to graduate and receive a diploma. Fortunately, I passed the exam and graduated from the Spanish perfection course at 'La Escola Oficial d'idiomas' with the prestigious diploma and certificate.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
What was your most meaningful activity?
When I was in Spain I volunteered to teach Korean and English to underprivileged Korean-Spanish children every Sunday at church. It was a small church with about 30 children who could not speak, write or read any Korean or English. Spanish-Korean children, as a result of an absence of Korean language education, had forgotten their native language, maybe even their roots. Their parents, who were too busy to learn Spanish, couldn't even ask the children about their school lives. Thus, I offered to stay two hours after the service to teach these children both Korean and English. I communicated with them in Spanish and encouraged them to learn Korean and English. When I began teaching them, I was surprised at their eagerness, their thirst for knowledge. They wished to learn their native language and were proud to display their knowledge in front of their parents. I helped them to find their own identity, to absorb their own language. I read Korean books about Korean myths to the children. The first time I read a story for them, I had to read each page two or three times until they fully understood. But after a year they could, though very slowly, read Korean and English books by themselves. It was gratifying to see that I could be a bridge between people of different cultural backgrounds through my language skills. It was pleasing to see that my language skills were not used to only express my thoughts, but those of others too. Even though they still talked in Spanish with their peers, they tried to talk to their parents in Korean. It was an experience that I will never forget.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Please describe a person of great influence in your life and explain how the person influenced you.
A person of great influence She was immobile. She stood up. She took a step. She runs. She, the definition of perseverance and triumph. It was in March 1999 when I first met her. I had newly moved to Castelldefels, a suburban seaside town fifteen kilometres away from Barcelona. It was a nice house where you could see the Mediterranean Sea and the beach once you opened the windows in the living room. About a week later, I went out to the beach at six oclock in the morning to jog on the beach before school. Smelling the freshness of the morning breeze, I began jogging towards the southern end of 'La Playafels'. I saw a distant figure ahead of me. As I got closer to the figure, I realised that the figure I had seen was a middle-aged woman trying to force herself stand up from the wheelchair. As I approached her, she stopped and stared at my legs. I stopped. I said 'Buenos dmas!' and asked if I could be of any help. No reply, just the stare. So I continued my routine and when I looked back, I saw her still endeavouring to stand up. I pitied her for trying to achieve what seemed impossible but at the same time, admired her courage to reach what seemed unreachable. Every morning she tried to stand up, to be free. Our continuous 6 o'clock rendezvous at the southern end of 'La Playafels' was repetitious and unchanging. She, trying to lift herself up from the wheelchair and I, stopping to greet her. Every night I prayed. I prayed for a miracle. Every morning I put my trainers on, wishing that there was a change in the way we met; that it was the day she bore fruits of her efforts and faith. It was on a Tuesday in October. I silently went out. The sun was just about to rise. I began running as usual and could see her at a distance. First, it seemed that she was with someone because there was a figure behind her wheelchair. But as I approached her, I realised that the figure I had seen was actually her, standing up against her wheelchair. Her emaciated legs were trembling. She took a step forward and sighed. She let her hands release the handles of the wheelchair and took another step. She could not balance well and fell. I quickly went over to her and lifted her. She looked at me. She smiled. She had done it. Her legs gradually gained the strength she needed to walk. By the end of February 2000, she was able to jog lightly. As Henry Ford said, 'Whether you think you can or think you can't, you are right.' Her perseverance and her strong will brought her the glory she had always dreamed of. She was triumphant in the battle against herself. She was right in thinking that one day she could, as everybody around her did, stand up and freely move around on the beach early in the morning. Once she stood up and ran, there was nothing that could stop her. From my house I could see her running on the beach, through bright sunshine, through rain, and through fog. Sometimes we ran side by side towards the southern end of 'La Playafels,' in silence. In March of that miraculous year, my family and I decided to move to Pedralbes, where my school was located. Castelldefels was a beautiful town to live in but it was difficult to commute to school and work everyday. Though I knew I was going to miss her, I was happy to leave the town after seeing her achieve her goal. The morning I was going to leave Castelldefels, I went out to the beach at six oclock. As I walked to the place where I had first met her, I could see her running. She was coming towards me and once she recognised me, she waved. I said 'Buenos Dmas' as usual and she pointed the southern end of 'La Playafels,' meaning, 'let's run.' I told her that I could not run because I was leaving the town and that I admired her. I told her that I would never forget her, and that I learned much from her. Whether she understood that or not, she began to run towards the southern end of 'La Playafels' alone. She did not look back nor waved at me. This is what I believe: with perseverance, courage, and faith, there is nothing a human cannot do. She was the curer of my weak mentality, mentor of my life. When I first met her, I had felt sorry for her 'vain' efforts to walk, but as I saw her undaunted will, I came to firmly believe that one day she would be able to run just like me. If God gave people something special that other organisms did not receive, it is the ability to make impossible things feasible. I never met her since then, and a year after, I came to the States. I cannot physically run with her but she will always be in me, running with me, motivating me, eradicating my fears, freeing me from all the wheelchairs in my life.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Please explain why you have chosen to apply to this school.
I was lucky to live on two different continents, in three countries. As a
result, I gained an international experience and learned to quickly assimilate
the cultures different people represented. The cultural diversity that exists at
Duke is what attracts me to Duke. I believe that I could perform well, both in
academics and extracurricular activities, by joining the huge pool of diversity
at Duke.
Also, during my 11th grade February break, I visited Duke University and stayed
on the campus for four days with a close friend of mine who was currently a
senior majoring in English. During my stay, I visited many places to get to know
Duke thoroughly; I read books on campus, I dined with Duke University students,
and I attended many classes. While doing so, I felt a strong affection towards
Duke: I imagined myself living on the campus, studying and interacting with
different people. I met many friends of my host and they helped me gather
extremely appealing facts about Duke. I hope I could become a successful member
of the Duke student body.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
If you were given ten dollars, where and how would you spend it?
Before I realized, I was on a white, feeble horse walking by a man on a mule. I was wearing a heavy armor with a lance in my hand. We were riding towards the horizon of endless fields where there were many windmills turning slowly. I asked the man next to me, 'excuse me sir, where are we now?' The man said, 'We are still in La Mancha, don Quixote, but I am getting a little hungry now. Would you like a potato too mi amo?' A potato? La Mancha? Why is he calling me don Quixote? The man gave me a potato and kept on calling me either don Quixote or 'mi amo,' meaning 'my master' in Spanish. I must be in a play, acting as don Quixote, I told myself and decided to act well. A while later we saw a massive windmill in front of us. I remembered that I was supposed to destroy this windmill, thinking that it is a giant trying to hinder my path. So I lifted the heavy lance up and courageously charged against it. 'Princess Dulciane, this is for you!' I screamed and pierced the windmill. The result was that I got utterly destroyed and was defeated by the 'giant.' When I woke up, I was lying on a bed made of straw. The armor, fortunately, was taken off from me. I stood up and looked outside the window, where clouds of smoke were rising. I saw my father dressed up as a priest, my mother as a maid, and my sister as don Quixote's niece. They were, as planned, burning most of my books or giving them out to others. While they were busy doing that, I had to sneak out, wear that heavy armor again, get on my horse and go to Sancho Panza to depart again for the unfinished adventure. The priest, the maid and Quixote's niece was going to deliberately ignore me while I snuck out. But no, they began ruining the whole play by obstructing my path, and hiding my armor and lance. What were they doing? They laid me down on the straw bed again and my sister, Quixotes niece guarded me. I was lost. I did not know what to do next. I was not prepared to act impromptu. So I stayed there and waited, pretending I was asleep. Well& I really did fall into a deep sleep. I opened my eyes. Quixote's niece was gone! I looked at the clock across the room. It was four o'clock in the afternoon. I must have slept a bit too long. It was time to leave again. I looked around the room to see if the armor was there. The room had changed since the last time I looked around. In the place of piles of hay, there was a computer. In the place of farm tools, there was a DVD player. In disbelief I got up from what was no longer a straw bed, but a comfortable bed. As I got up something fell on my feet. It was a book. I picked it up and looked at it: Don Quixote de Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, $10.00.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Please describe a book you have read in the past and explain how it influenced you.
'La Isla Soqada is all about an adventure I would have wanted to live' - says Fernando Martmnez Gil, the author of La Isla Soqada (The Dreamed Island). In fact, that is what everybody who reads the book would think. I received La Isla Soqada as a gift from one of my friends in Spain when I was leaving Spain to come to the United States. This book addressed a meaningful question in me because at first I could not decide whether I agree to the author's criticism about certain people's lives. The book is about the adventures Juan, the protagonist, has during his journey to find a nonexistent island (or rather, an island in his dreams) that he believes it to be 'the Heaven of the Earth.' Gil praises the courage and eagerness of Juan, who embarks on a journey full of unknown and obscurity. Gil commends Juan's zealous pursuit of his dreams but at the same time, criticizes Juan for disregarding the reality and living in his dreams. While reading this in the airplane heading to the United States, I applied Juans journey to mine. When I was nine I embarked on a dreamlike journey to Europe without any knowledge about how Europe would be like. After eight years of life in Spain, I decided that Spain was not the destination of my dreams and left for the United States. It seems that Gil would reprimand my traveling to so many different places in pursuit of my dreams. I, however, hesitated to agree to Gil. I could not decide whether Gil's criticism was a valid one of the lives of people with dreams. Gil seemed to censure their lives for impracticality but I have always believed that going on an adventure to seek one's dreams was worth a try. There was so much to learn, so much to experience during the pursuit of the dreams. I know that my departing from South Korea to go to Europe was not a futile choice for I learned so much in Europe, even the things I could not have in Korea. I came to the United States for the same reason: to learn more. In the end, after arguing about Gil's criticism with myself, I was convinced that the people with dreams do not live a vain life in pursuit. They accomplish their dreams while pursuing them. La Isla Soqada is a book that anybody with dreams should read because it is never too late to embark on a journey of dreams.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
What was your biggest challenge in life and what did you learn from it?
A Day in the Life 'Go to the door! All right, are you ready to jump?' 'Sir, yes, SIR!' 'Speak up! Are you sure?' Psychologists say that of all heights, people most fear falling from 11.3 meters above the ground - about the height of a four-story building. The Korean army exploits this fact in its 11.3-meter tall Mak training towers, reasoning that if a soldier can conquer his or her fear of jumping from that height, he or she can jump from any. That my own memories of the Mak tower persist so intensely stands in stark contrast to my recollections of the other trials of life in the 701 Regiment of the Special Assault Commando Unit. Despite its foreboding moniker, the 701 Regiment was less a training ground for elite special forces than it was an army-operated camp for over-stimulated adolescent boys. This is not to say 'military life' was devoid of challenges - indeed, survival in the 701 Regiment involved precisely the kind of tribulations I as a twelve-year-old boy was ill prepared to contend with. The food was tasteless and underdone, and access to television and junk food was strictly prohibited. The instructors kept us under constant surveillance, filling our days with drills and exercises. Today, I feel gratitude for the discipline the instructors labored to instill in us, and a bemused nostalgia for the twelve-year-old boy whose most profound grief arose from losing two Saturdays' worth of soccer with his friends. But the emotions stirred by these recollections remain dulled, muted by the hazy expanse of time. Not so with the Mak tower. Early the morning of our second day, we assembled at the base of the tall mountain overlooking the camp, our first exercise of the day. The ascent was steep and our only relief was the cooling breeze blowing down from the summit. Twenty minutes into the hike, we came to a rocky plateau dug into the side of the mountain where the instructors ordered us to halt. There, we saw a half-dozen soldiers poised on top of a tall wooden tower. A cry rang out from the tower, and without a moment's deliberation, the men leapt from their perches, restrained from certain death by only four impossibly-thin ropes attached to a cable. I was terrified. Our instructors turned to their silent regiment. 'No one has to do it. If you don't want to do it, you can leave.' Several of my fellows immediately fell out of the group and headed back to camp. My fear, bolstered by reason, urged me to go with them, but a peculiar resolve compelled me to stay. Even now, I struggle to account for this alien resolve that carried me up the four flights of wooden stairs and steadied my hands as I fastened the safety gear around me. I do not think it was bravery, for I was very much afraid, and had I perceived a choice in the matter, I may not have been able to do it. Rather, I think it was a sense of purpose that guided me. Five years have passed since the afternoon I stood atop the Mak tower, but to this day I can feel the echoes of the adrenaline that coursed through my veins as I stepped to the edge of the precipice, and the mere recall of the ground 11.3 meters and some unfathomable distance below still shoots an icy jangliness through my shoulders and into the back of my skull. The wind blew fiercely as I readied myself, drowning out the barking of the drill instructor, pressing me back into the security of the tower's bulwarks. A ripple of indecision rolled through me and then in an instant, was gone, carried away in the slipstream. With my eyes wide and fixed on the horizon, I pushed off. The beginnings of change for me occurred that afternoon on the mountain. Though my friends watching from below would later insist that I passed only through open air, moments after I leapt, I felt myself crossing a threshold. Hurtling toward the earth, strapped into a confining safety vest, I tasted a kind of freedom previously unknown to me, the freedom of a world unbounded by ones fears. The process of disentangling myself from them has been gradual. Five years later, I am still all too often distanced from life by a wall of my anxieties. But the freedom I came to know just a little that afternoon provided me a glimpse of the riches that lie behind it.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
General personal statement, no topic
Reach As I cross the green, I pause to take one last glance over my shoulder at the castle, trying to capture an image that will last me a lifetime. Months ago, as I daydreamed at home in Taiwan, the desire found its way into my head: I wanted to kiss the Blarney Stone. As an Asian American, I do not have any drop of Irish blood in me. The strange urge, though, grew stronger, and by August, I have managed to fly, walk, ride, run, and tumble my way to Blarney Castle in Ireland. That was the summer after grade ten; and actually, I aspired then to do more than just kiss the Blarney Stone. I wanted to set foot in the Vatican, behold the Leaning Tower of Pisa, visit the little Irish town called Tralee, reunite with Irish friends I had met a year earlier, marvel at the magnificent Book of Kells, and venture up the snowy mountains of Switzerland. In order to do so many different things, I needed great control over my itinerary, so I decided to make the trip alone: total freedom. As I was only fifteen years old, making my own trip would be a challenge. I would have to plan my route, book youth hostels, compare airfares, pack for the long trek, and fly alone to Europe. When I finally touched down at my destination, I would have to find my own way to the hostel on foot and public transport: a reasonable budget would permit no taxi rides. Then, for about five weeks, I would be on my own. My family and friends would be back home, thousands of miles away. My parents had complete confidence in me, but I wondered, as I hugged them goodbye, if their confidence was misplaced. Before I knew it, though, I was checking in at the hostelI had made it to Rome. I soon met other travelers who shared my interests and discovered that I could easily make friends if I felt lonely. I learned to be independent, to be a street-smart backpacker, and to get along with strangers. First in Italy and then in Ireland and Switzerland, I surprised myself by being able to roam and discover on my own with only a trusty cell phone as a lifeline. I found museums to visit, streets to shop, ancient ruins to explore, and national parks to hike. Afterwards, I always managed to arrive back at Pisa Centrale Station for my next train, Bus Iireann Killarney Station for my next bus, or Zurich Flughafen for my flight home. I realized each of the dreams I had had in Taiwan and new ones that came to me in Europe, like biking through Killarney National Park. The park boasts many breathtaking sights ranging from waterfalls to castles and from gardens to lakes. Exploring the park, I biked over 24 miles in one day. After hours upon hours of cycling, I was exhausted; the stunning beauty of the terrain ahead, however, kept me moving. I remember parking my rented bicycle on the shore of a vast, serene lake and sitting at the waters edge. There was not another human in sightin any given direction, I could see only the emerald of grass and leaves, the amber of branches and earth, and the sapphire of water and sky. The idyllic beauty of my surroundings was overwhelming. However, what I enjoyed that summer, more than the scenery and the landmarks, was the independence and the adventure. For the first time in my life, I was completely on my own, free to go where I wanted, when I wanted, free to follow my itinerary or change it on a whimfree to decide. I discovered that when we chase our dreams, we are on our own, but if we want something intensely enough, we will find a way to reach out for it. I accomplished much that summerI have fifteen rolls of film and a new, confident outlook to prove it. Those five weeks were the most amazing ones of my life.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Describe an activity or extracurricular involvement and its importance to you.
InterAct Memories 'Do you know why I come here every day?' asked the woman, ecstatically, poised over the donation receipt she was about to complete. 'Its because of people like you! You've made my day. You could be watching a baseball game, but here you are, raising money for UNICEF!' I thought guiltily of the Mets ticket in my back pocket. The game was to begin in less than two hours. I wasn't really the boy this UNICEF volunteer thought I was. But I was trying. I did enjoy working in the community. There is something about leading a blind toddler down a long corridor or trying to explain Mother's Day to an orphan'a feeling at once cold and warm - that makes me remember, This is why I stay in InterAct, why I have chosen InterAct. In the ninth grade, my first InterAct Club (international action service club) activity was a senior citizens' health convention co-sponsored by InterAct's parent Rotary Club. I helped a dentist give free checkups and teach dental hygiene. I enjoyed the experience, and I have been in InterAct ever since. While staffing InterAct's do-it-yourself greeting card booth at a charity fair, I faced the matter of explaining Mother's Day to an orphan. I was amazed and impressed by the boy's grinning acceptance of the facts of his lifehis candor and smile showed no trace of grief or resentment. I vowed to remember his resilience and keep my mouth shut the next time I felt like complaining about how difficult my own life was. Later, while volunteering at the Lux Mundi Center for the Mentally Impaired, I had the chance to take a Center toddler, who was blind but enjoyed walking, on walks around the complex. This experience served to reinforce my earlier vow. Some of my time at Lux Mundi, where I volunteer monthly with other InterAct members, is spent performing duties like cutting old clothes into washrags, but my favorite part of each visit is caring for the residents. I particularly enjoy working with the children because I feel that they need the most support and that I can make the greatest difference in reaching out to them. While helping out at the Lux Mundi Center is the InterAct activity I enjoy most, I have worked on other InterAct projects as well, such as the Student Beat Concert we held last year. We raised US$650, which we divided between UNICEF and our club's International Crisis Fund, a project I initiated. When disasters occur, groups scramble to fundraise, but victims often need immediate relief. Saving money continuously in advance ensures that we will have cash readily available. We drew from the Fund for the first time this September, when we donated our savings (then $400) to the Red Cross to assist in the aftermath of the World Trade Center attacks. At the end of my junior year in high school, I faced a tough choice. I could choose to run for InterAct President or to run for re-election as Student Council President; I knew better than to attempt to juggle two presidencies along with my senior-year workload. As Council President, I had enjoyed organizing dances and other activities as well as effecting improvements around school like the installation of more storm drains and a student-accessible photocopier for the Bilingual Department. However, I ultimately realized that students at my school do not need dances and photocopies quite so much as children at the Lux Mundi Center need food and care. I found my work in InterAct more meaningful because it allowed me to meet more people and make a greater difference in their lives, so I chose InterActa decision I have never regretted.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement - Background
Nothing about my family or myself has ever been typical. I was never raised in a similar fashion to my classmates; everything from my appearance to ideals always seemed to deviate from the norm. The first thing all the other kids noticed when I started school was my unusual countenance. In the dead of winter, I still radiated an olive glow. Often classmates persisted in asking where I was from. After telling them my mother was German and Irish and that my father was Burmese, the only reply was a blank stare. I felt like I needed an atlas to explain my heritage. I tried to be understanding; the average second grader cannot easily visualize a map of Southeast Asia. Hence, my claim to fame was that I was the kid from the country that no one had ever heard of. Of course, my background did not just make me a playground novelty. Eighteen years ago, it began to mold my fresh, impressionable brain into the thought-provoking mass that it is today. As a multi-racial person, I feel as if I can identify with almost anyone and feel comfortable in any social circle. I can relate with both whites and minorities, particularly Asians. In high school, I feel proud to be known by my fellow students as one of only two Burmese students in the school (including my brother), and an expert on anything Asian. My grandparents' lives were heavily steeped in education; my grandmother was a college professor in Burma and my grandfather was the Minister of Education before the coup d'itat. According to my mom, no one on her side of the family has ever been good at math, so my love of calculus can seemingly be attributed to my Burmese genes. While education has always been an important and influential part of both sides of my family, my motivations are more personal than just the unique formation of my DNA. I ponder why I truly stay up so late studying after a soccer game or spend time checking over exams. After much reflection, I decided that I want to be able to make a difference in the world. My education, I believe, will enable me to realize my most profound aspirations. Admittedly, I can't say my quest is to cure cancer, or something as concrete and tangible. But this is what, I feel, separates me from the pack. I do not want to be President or make millions on Wall Street. I can do the little things, which slowly but surely affect the world. Not everyone can become an international leader; people still need others to do the less glamorous work. I don't envision myself being written about in history books, but i want to reform the world, step by step, day by day. I dream about combining my penchant for math with preserving the raw, natural beauty of the outdoors. I dream about raising a loving family. I dream the dream of my father and grandmother and the millions suffering under its military dictatorship: the democratization of Burma. When all is said and done, I will have done something, helped somewhere. Maybe I was there when Burma became independent or stuck up for the environment. I can't say, yet. But, in the end, the world will be just a little better place for having me grace it. This I promise.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement
My grandfather spent his childhood studying the Torah in secret, lost an eye
fighting in a battle where both sides were wrong, and spent his adult life
dreading a knock at the door from a member of the KGB. While the other children
at the nursing home were listening to life stories with bored expressions and
vacant smiles, I was being taught the meaning of courage from a noble man wasting
away from prostate cancer. I have blocked out the painful memories of a
late-night phone call and the hospital bed that my grandfather never left.
Instead, my memories center around how he always gave me chocolates from a
never-ending supply and sat me on his knee to tell me about a world I would never
fully understand.
Religious persecution in the USSR never stopped my devout grandfather from
sneaking out at the age of five to study Torah; at his age I was learning
hopscotch and how to ice-skate. My mother fondly recounts a childhood spent
listening to Jewish songs on the radio and knowing that each knock on the door
could be police officers sent to take her parents to jail. My worst transgression
against the law consisted of shoplifting a pack of gum when I was six. Our worlds
were so different that I am amazed we shared anything as ordinary as a family
bond.
I grew up firm in the belief that I had the right to read and listen to anything
I pleased. Everything my grandfather told me seemed so alien that I doubted it at
first, the way a small child doubts that the detergent under the sink is really
harmful if swallowed. It was not until I was older and read about the subject
that I truly fathomed the circumstances in which my grandfather lived.
All my life I have been striving not to disappoint his memory. I do not feel
that I have succeeded yet, but I hope that someday I will. He was an amazing man
and I must repay the debt that I owe him for teaching me the right way to live,
by the strength of my convictions and no one else's. Right now I can only offer a
small token in remembrance; I put a lighted menorah in the window every Hanukkah,
partly because it looks good there and partly because I can. As I watch the
flames dance to the inaudible beat of the world, I imagine my grandfather in the
room with me, sharing in the beauty of the flicker of the fire on the windowpane.
In Judaism, a flame represents the eternal spirit and the accomplishment of a
holy mission by setting an example. Whenever I light the menorah, I think of my
grandfather and everything he taught me through his illustrious example. He may
not have had a peaceful life, but at least he will be honored with the
immortality I grant him by retaining his lessons and passing them onto the
grandchildren that I shall have someday.
