Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement: Topic of your choice.
The heat was overwhelming. Sweat trickled down my forehead in steady, eye-stinging beads. I bent over to grab another bundle of rice seedlings, and suddenly the world went out in a white hot flash. Strong arms caught me before I hit the mud. I dimly recognized my aunt's sunburned face, caught between a worried frown and a sympathetic smile. 'Sun stroke,' she whispered, 'to the shade with you.' Surging with undisguised relief, I half-crawled, half-stumbled into the refuge beneath a tree, and plucked off the conical straw hat that had failed to shield me from the assault of the July sun. I must have been quite a sight to behold to the knowing eye: a city girl sitting on the edge of a paddy field in northern Vietnam, up to the knees in drying mud, suffering from sunstroke on the first day of the planting season. Leaning against the cool surface of the tree bark, I tried in vain to avoid thinking about the reasons that had brought me there in the first place. My experiment with manual labor was supposed to keep at bay the reality that I was, in a sense, running away. It didn't work. I found my mind being inexorably drawn back to my cool, mud-free house in Hanoi. In Hanoi, reminded my frustratingly one-track brain, there were also SATs, the advent of the final year of high school, and, looming darkly on the horizon, the US college application process. At this thought, the ringing in my head was replaced by sharp stabs of guilt as I searched myself for the source of my weakness. For years, I had painstakingly sketched out my post-school education plan with unceasing enthusiasm, but now when it came to the actual plunge, why did college intimidate me so? I had always considered myself flexible, open to changes, and reasonably sure of myself whenever there were challenges to overcome. I had not been, for instance, paralyzed by the language and culture barriers that faced me when, at twelve years old, I had suddenly been whisked away to New York City. When English finally became a part of me, it was exhilarating but not surprising. Then before I knew it, I was back in my native Vietnam, and floundering for breath in the stifling, exam-frenzied classroom of the country's best-known 'and most competitive- public high school. Somehow, I had found a way to cope with that as well. Big changes -cultural and otherwise - were not, therefore, a wholly new territory. Why then? Possibly, it was because college would be like nothing I had faced. Even in New York, I had had my family by my side. Plus, high school was an environment whose challenges I knew well. In college, I would no longer be slogging through the same rote exams in pursuit of trivial grades. I would, for the first time in my life, be studying for myself, in preparation for what would come next - real life. I would not be able to blame the challenges I would undoubtedly confront in the future on circumstances beyond my control, for studying abroad had been entirely my choice. There was the crux of my problem: fear of taking risks. Applying to college had given me the first whiff of life as an adult, and I could not be certain I was entirely ready for that leap. I was rudely shaken out of contemplation by the shrill trilling of cicadas in my ears, and the dull thuds of heavy hooves. Caught off-guard, I gazed in horror at the grinning face of my cousin, who perched atop a huge water buffalo, his family's cud-chewing tractor. The animal bellowed loudly at the same time my cousin spoke: 'Want a ride?' The first time I had been offered a buffalo ride, I had been four, and visiting this place, my father's ancestral home, for the first time. Unlike my country-born father, I had been out of my depth and had refused with tears. Maybe this time - Maybe not. I declined the offer quickly while the animal shook its fearsome horns in my direction, and seethed at my cousin's patronizing chuckle as his mammoth steed lumbered away. Picking at the flakes of mud on my calf, I pondered the different life circumstances that had bound me to books and modern appliances, and ordained my cousin the King of the Water Buffalo. Yet come September this country-savvy boy was going to attend the National Economics University in Hanoi. His parents were breaking their backs in the fields some ten paces to my left, and he was going to college in a city he hardly knew. My father had done the same, leaving the land his forbearers had tilled for a dozen generations, and gone to university. He had taken a risk, and had changed his life for the better. As I looked around at the fields of red earth slowly growing green, I realized that my father and cousin were not the only ones changing. On the horizon, factories were springing up in former paddy fields. Tractors would soon be replacing the frightening water buffalo as the farmer's best friend. Vietnam was awakening after years of sleep under the conservative rule of its communist government, and was now realizing that the world had nearly left her behind. My country now sped to catch up, and was making good progress. A new wave was rising, a change that began within every Vietnamese, and it hinted of a bright future. I wanted to be part of that wave. If my cousin could leave his family and the life he had always known to pursue an education, then so could I. Somewhere beyond the borders of my country, there was a college waiting for me, promising a new start, knowledge, and most of all, change. My anxiety lingered, but was not so pungent and debilitating as before; I was finally beginning to see a way through. College, much like riding a buffalo, was an unknown, and the only way to dispel the doubt was to meet it headfirst. I would embark upon this new journey equipped with all the understanding and experience that had helped me in earlier adventures, as well as a wish for more. Tomorrow, I thought, I am going back to Hanoi. My Hanoi, ancient and elegant, bred a race of deep and quietly graceful people with a conservative streak. But even we Hanoians are willing to change in order to bring our country up-to-speed with the world. Sitting on the dyke beside my aunt's paddy field, I felt eager to confront the challenges that lay before me. There was, however, one thing I had to do first. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my cousin untying his buffalo, finishing for the day. He barely noticed me approaching, and jumped at my next words: 'So, how about that ride?'
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.
