Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Describe the environment in which you grew up and how it has shaped your personal goals.
Describe the environment in which you grew up and how it has shaped your personal goals. One of my earliest memories is of me and my brother standing tiptoe on a big wooden box decorated with humongous pink butterfly stickers, peeking over the window sill. Behind the window, my mom did some mysterious hand waving before moving onto the next patient: a newborn infant, one of the twenty or so in the room. When she was done, she came out of the nursery and we trailed her to the patient hallway. She would tell us to stay where we were, and then she'd go into one of the rooms. I did what I was told and waited, but my brother insisted on exploring the unfamiliar hallways. This was all fine and dandy, until he found himself an open elevator. He waddled inside the way little kids do and soon disappeared behind its doors. There were a few frantic moments when my mom discovered that she had one child with her instead of two. I watched curiously and somewhat amused as the adults scrambled around trying to find him, only to have him turn up two floors down. There was never any negative stigma attached to the hospital for me. With such visits intertwined into my childhood, I saw it as a place where my mom worked, rather than one filled with sickness or death. This also applied to the doctor's office. In kindergarten when I came down with chicken pox, I spent those seven miserable days lying on a mattress on the floor of my mom's office, and she would check up on me in between patients. When it came time to for my monthly orthodontist appointment, she would drop me off on her way to work. After I was done, I would cross the street to her office, curling up in the little space under her desk and reading for the few hours before we went home. As I grew older, I came to realize that my mom's job was not too bad. It kept us fed, clothed, and sheltered for sixteen years, while she still managed to come to Mother's Day Tea or my The Wizard of Oz performance. When I reached senior year of high school and started my college applications, I began to seriously consider what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Initially I had ruled out medicine. My parents had continually pushed me towards it, citing security and lifestyle as reasons why I should go into the field, but I rebelled against the idea. I considered this a bad reason to choose a career. However, then I recalled my inquiries over the years into the medical terms my parents have used while discussing recent health issues, or my interest in their latest cases. My curiosity must have stemmed from an inherent interest, and perhaps this is exactly what I need to be content in medicine. However, I still had a few doubts in the back of my mind, so I asked my mom why she chose to become a doctor. She told me, 'The best part of being a doctor is helping people.' I snorted in disbelief. I was too cynical to accept this outright. However, then I began to see some things that I hadn't noticed before. The next weekend when I went out with my parents for lunch, a little girl wandered over to our table to offer a timid hello to 'Dr. Huang.' My mom's patients are everywhere, never unhappy to see her and never hesitating to greet her. On holidays like Christmas and Easter, they bring gifts or fruit baskets out of appreciation for her help. My mom really does make a difference in the lives of these people. I can make a difference in their lives. Robert Frost once wrote, 'And that has made all the difference.'
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Relationships play a big role in shaping a student's life. Describe one of your relationships that has influenced who you have become. Personal Statement
When my cousin and I were young, we were very close friends - so close, we seemed like brothers. Even though he was four years older than me and lived hundreds of miles away, during our visits at Grandpa's house Evan and I were inseparable. The atmosphere at Grandpa's house was always relaxing, loving, and carefree. Our favorite activity was performing puppet shows for the family to show off our crude but humorous staging and voicing skills. We prepared all afternoon for an evening show; however the fun did not so much lie in the show itself as it did in the preparations for the show. We picked out the best stuffed animals from Grandpa's vast collection and made props for them to use in the show. It was a chance for me to artistically express myself without having to worry about the quality of the final product. The time I spent with my cousin Evan was very special because he seemed like a big brother to me. He made me feel wanted, valued, and appreciated. He was a real friend, always there to play with me and enjoy carefree, happy times together. He showed me what having a fun, easy-going, and understanding big brother could be like. A few years later, when I became a big brother, I realized how difficult being a good brother can be. Initially, I was mad that I had to share my parents' and everyone else's attention with my little brother, David. However, over time, I learned how to overcome my anger at David and was eventually able to change my attitude into one that would allow David to see in me what I saw in Evan. I tried to be kind and loving, tried to help him whenever needed, teach him from my experiences, and make him feel important. Thirteen years later, I feel the relationship has been mutually beneficial, providing each of us with a close friend and family member to confide in and spend time with. David has learned a lot from me and I have learned a lot from him. My relationships with Evan and David have taught me how to be considerate, kind, caring, thoughtful, fair, and patient. These relationships have helped to shape my lifelong goal of becoming the best person I can be. I want to bring kindness into a world filled with hatred. For me, achieving this goal starts at home by being the best brother possible.
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Essay Question:
Personal Statement
My personal battle against knee injuries was my first major encounter with the field of biomedical engineering. I constantly questioned my doctors about everything from how the MRI worked to the mode of action of drugs I was given. I also discovered that one could be a physician and still be involved in the areas of engineering and biological research. The interest I developed in the field of bioengineering has continued to grow since then, but it was not until I took neurobiology at Harvard University summer school that my plan to pursue a degree in medicine was confirmed. I not only learned the basics of the nervous system, but also the practical applications of this knowledge and how scientists are using the nervous system's extraordinary power to solve medical mysteries and fight disease. The most interesting aspect of the course was the section about neurotransmitters and how modification of the release, absorption, and re-uptake of neurotransmitters can produce such widespread and drastic results in the body. The opportunity to immerse myself in solving problems found in the complex world of the nervous system by utilizing engineering and design techniques would be ideal for me. Problems associated with the knee joint still interest me as well and I would love to have the opportunity to facilitate improvements in the treatment of those who have had to endure the pain of knee injuries. A career as a physician along with training in bioengineering would give me the opportunity to help others to overcome painful injuries and return to an active life.
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Essay Question:
Extra Adversity
I learned a lot in tenth grade but the most important lessons were not taught in my classes. The knowledge I gained was an understanding of my ability to overcome the challenges found in life. My classes were interesting and challenging and I looked forward to a great year of academics and sports now that I had recovered from two knee operations. Unfortunately, my life took a sudden and distressing turn when financial problems struck our family. My father lost his job due to the bankruptcy of his employer. My parents warned me that we might need to move to another state where my father could find work. It was difficult to concentrate on school when I was worried about moving and future college tuition. I worried about my father who was concerned about providing for us. He felt depressed over the loss of his job. This was only the second time that I had seen my father cry; the first was when my older brother drowned. As the oldest surviving child, I gladly took the responsibility for helping to care for my disabled younger sister and my asthmatic younger brother as their medical conditions required the presence of a responsible party. As the emotional burden I carried took its toll, I thought about my parents and their resiliency even after the death of their first child. They persevered despite their pain. They did not neglect their other children. I realized that it was my responsibility to overcome my distress and get back on track with school. I knew that I was strong enough to take back control of my life. With a positive attitude and a conviction that I could succeed, I found that my grades began to rise. My time management skills improved as I sought to study, play sports, help my family as much as possible and continue to volunteer in the community. I even found that my positive attitude and belief that I would succeed helped my father renew his faith in his own ability. This translated into a more optimistic approach to his job search. The adverse circumstances I experienced may have threatened to ruin my dreams, but I did not allow them to take control permanently. Despite the stress of my family situation, I learned to take responsibility for my own success and I mastered the art of multitasking and effective time management. My lessons were well learned. This past summer I was told by one of my university professors that I demonstrated an obvious capacity for organization, self-management, and discipline. My junior year grades also reflected my resolve to overcome my distress and succeed academically. It is my hope that the future will be relatively uneventful for my family so that I may focus my energies on my academics. Even if that is not the case, I am confident that I can overcome any obstacles that I encounter. I am a stronger person now and the lessons I have learned will guide me through the events that I may encounter in the future.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Please describe which of these activities (extracurricular and personal activities or work experience) has had the most meaning for you, and why.
Of all my activities, playing in Whitman's music ensembles and directing the technical components of Whitman's student-run television news program, Whitman Shorts, have had the most meaning for me. I have learned a tremendous amount about myself and the world from these activities. As a percussionist in the Symphonic Band, Symphonic Orchestra, and Jazz Ensemble, I have traveled every spring to perform in competitive national music festivals in Chicago, Montreal, and Orlando. The hundreds of hours of practice and rehearsal necessary to prepare for these competitions taught me to be patient and to constantly look towards my goal of helping the ensemble achieve musical perfection. My most memorable festival performance was my timpani solo during the climax of Robert Jager's Third Suite in Orlando, Florida. I played it flawlessly and my conductor's face radiated pride. As a member of the Whitman Shorts staff, I regularly debate important news issues with my colleagues. This has taught me to constantly analyze and evaluate situations with an open mind. A controversial report that criticized the Whitman student government and spurred tension in the student body taught me good journalistic ethics as well as my rights as a student reporter and a U.S. citizen. The ideas that I debate with the faculty sponsor about freedom of speech, politics, and life in general will serve as a constant reminder to question myself and my world. These two activities have helped me grow and mature, giving great meaning to my life.
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Essay Question:
This was an open-ended adaptation of the personal statement that allowed flexibility and creativity.
Page 263 of my 300 Page Autobiography ...and that is why, to this day, I keep the Preparation H and toothpaste in separate drawers. Six o' clock. This was it. I fumbled around with my shoelaces. My movements were slow and deliberate. I grabbed Mr. Hodge's acoustic guitar and an extra shirt, anticipating uncontrollable perspiration, and jumped into the Buick. My baseball game had been a disaster, a clear reflection of my nervous preoccupation. I probably would have struck out all four times, if I hadn't been hit square on the hip in my last at bat My thoughts, or should I say nightmares, of the last several weeks had not been on baseball, on school, on the state of the union. My thoughts were on nailing Creedence Clearwater's Proud Mary in front of a packed house and living in rock and roll immortality for the rest of my high school career. The stubborn steering wheel on the Buick was even harder to control my sweaty, shaky hands. I remember looking down and laughing uneasily to myself at the bulbous knobs on my mom's goofy looking tape deck. Who buys a tape deck in the 21st century? Where was Janna? It was 6:45, and I could not find my Janis Joplin-esque vocalist anywhere. After a frantic probing of the auditorium, I found her in the back of the lobby coming out of the bathroom. Her eyes lit up and then, painfully, she hugged me. Bits and pieces of a story involving a garden rake, a flat tire, and an impatient tow-truck driver gushed from her mouth as tears streaked down her face. Her day had been as apprehensive and gut-wrenching as mine. Somehow, that was strangely reassuring. We waited. It's funny how time seems to warp when you're the second to last act in a 30-act talent show. We sat in the makeshift "backstage" of the chorus room and heard the muffled sounds of the Irish "Riverdance," the scatological comedy routine, the Pearl Jam cover songs. In an effort to limber up, I attempted to touch my toes. My pants, apparently dissatisfied with my decision to loosen my tense muscles, split down the inseam. Luckily, Janna had a safety pin in her handbag (I had always wondered what was in there) and she resourcefully patched me up. Seeking solitude I went into the men's room before we went on. I looked into the eyes that stared back at me in the mirror. They were scared; they were nervous. I was a bedroom guitarist, not a "jukebox hero," as my beloved Foreigner's words foretold three decades before. I leaned over the sink and prayed. It wasn't a prayer of repentance; I didn't pray for an incredible performance. I just prayed that I wouldn't mess up in front of my friends, my parents, and my Willie Nelson-look-alike guitar teacher, Wayne. Indeed, I changed my shirt. I could feel my heart beating wickedly in my chest, an ever-intensifying battle drum that had reached a dangerously hyper crescendo. And then, right after the third sophomore rendition of "Genie In a Bottle," our names were called. Reality, rather surreality, set in. The curtain went up and Hodge's guitar and I floated thoughtlessly onto the stage and into our stool. Janna followed with her microphone. Without hesitation I began with my opening solo. As the lights dimmed and music filled the air, I remember gaining confidence. That is, until the lights came back on, and yells from the crowd indicated that my amplifier was not working. Confidence turned to dread as the sound crew rushed to the scene to diagnose the technical snag. I said another silent prayer in an awkward span so long it seemed that I could have read the entire gospel. By the time the amp was back online, my throat was drier than my calculus teacher's humor. I strummed away again, more timidly this time, and the lights dimmed once more. All the devotion and effort I had put into this night was numbed out of my mind. I was drugged by fear. The remaining memories of my moment in the spotlight remain blurry and dreamlike. The thing I most remember is hearing treble. Incredible treble. A frequency so high pitched I would later wonder whether my dog could have recognized the song. I barely remember (luckily) getting caught in the curtain in my panicked exodus from the stage after the performance. I barely remember sitting in a storage closet on stage during the last act. I barely remember the sea of faces in the lobby after the show, giving artificial congratulations. I barely remember getting in the Buick and half-realizing that the prognathous tape deck had been stolen because I had left the doors open. Who steals a tape deck in the 21st century? When I got home, I asked my father for the naked truth. "Dad," I asked "how was it?" "Well," he began, "sometimes painful experiences teach us lessons and build character." I went to bed that night with a shattered ego, an irregular heartbeat, and character coming out my& ...
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
If you could have dinner with any living person, who would it be and why?
Dinner with anyone? Anyone at all? Wow- talk about an open-ended question. Actually, given the hypothetical profundity of the topic, I was surprised at how quickly my mind's eye focused on one individual: Bill Waterson. Bill Waterson is the creator and author of Calvin and Hobbes. That's right, the comic strip with the spikey-haired loudmouth kid and the talking tiger. Yes, I know how ridiculous and pedantic my choice may sound, but hear me out. Waterson's impact on my childhood cannot be understated. First, some of my favorite memories are associated with Calvin and Hobbes. For example, I always took a Calvin and Hobbes book with me on car rides to Gramma and Poppy's house in Massachusetts, still my favorite place in the world. On school nights, my older sister and I liked to bring the books under the covers in my parents' bed and giggle like the careless little kids that we were. And every Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember, I have read Calvin and Hobbes before nodding off, drunk with pleasure in the euphoria of the moment. On the beach with family, during indoor recess on rainy elementary school days, even in the bathroom, Waterson's Calvin and Hobbes was a staple in a childhood I remember as increasingly magnificent. Just as importantly, Calvin and Hobbes instilled in me a wit and a vocabulary I had no right to possess at such a young age. Waterson is as much a philosopher as a comedian, as much a professor as a cartoonist, as much a thought provoking linguistic as an illustrator. I credit Waterson with my zeal for writing, my appreciation of satire, and a wit sharp enough to slice through the complexities of my daily Georgetown existence. I've even assimilated Calvin's ethos into my own: 'I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.' (He also just-so-happens to articulate my dogmatic conviction that 'television validates existence'). And so, I humbly request dinner with Bill Waterson. Nothing fancy; maybe just some Chinese take-out or one of those Southwest chicken salads at Applebee's. Just a small token for shaping the course of my youth and instilling in me a sense of humor.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
