Keep ask- ing yourself why until you have analyzed the situation as fully as possible. This demonstrates that she can explain complex ideas in clear and concise terms, a great strength for ivy league essays re- searcher. I always thought that I had it the worst out of all my ivy league essays mem- bers because I was never allowed to get anything lower than what my brother or a cousin had gotten in a class. The best essays marinate. It is quite a dramatic jump from the small scene in the book, They Cage the Animals at Night, and the decision to provide animals for therapy. A couple of years later, my mother decided that it would be prudent to take music lessons, as she probably realized that academics were just not my forte. To persuade girls to get fit in a healthy manner, I devoured psychology and sports science books, and reminded them that if they wanted to have a better body, there is no replacement for time or effort, ivy league essays.
Don't miss out on the best high school & college admissions resources!
Great ivy league essays highlight qualities that make the applicant exceptional. College admissions can often feel like a faceless process shrouded in mystery. The decision-making processes of hyper-selective Ivy League schools can seem especially opaque to applicants. But as you may have heard, the Common App Essay and supplemental college application essays offer the opportunity for students to showcase some of the harder-to-summarize, qualitative aspects of their application. These essays are a chance for students to give admissions officers a sense of their personality, interests that fall outside the scope of their resume, or moments that have been personally important to them.
But when approaching the personal statement and supplemental ivy league essays for hyper-selective schools, parents and students often wonder what Ivy League schools might be looking for. Is it all about replicating that Costco essay? The answer is no. This article dives into the qualities of successful Ivy League essays, and offers step-by-step guidance to help your child to produce such work. The first place to begin in answering this question is identifying what makes Ivy League applications and expectations qualitatively different from the rest. But, broadly, we observe that the most selective colleges ask for students to demonstrate passion, leadership, initiative, ivy league essays, intellectual vitality, and memorability.
Admissions—especially at Ivy League schools—is a complex, multi-faceted, and ever-changing process, and what might make one essay successful in any given year might not apply to essays in future years. Every year, supplemental prompts change a little bit. Between all of these questions ivy league essays the Personal Statement, your child will likely be able to find many routes into showing off their best qualities. use these prompts as starting points. Note: Cornell University is excluded from this list because their prompts vary by program. In addition to the essay you have written for the Common Application, please write an essay of about words no more than words and no fewer than words.
Using one of the themes below as a starting point, write about a person, event, or experience that helped you define one of your values or in some way changed how you approach the world. Please do not repeat, in full or in part, the essay you wrote for the Common Application. Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way. And ivy league essays as we can recognize the value in those things and make them part of our lives, our lives are meaningful. Using a favorite quotation from an essay or book you have read in the last three years as a starting point, ivy league essays, tell us about an event or experience that helped you define one of your values or changed how you approach the world.
Please write the quotation, title and author at the beginning of your essay, ivy league essays. You may wish to include an additional essay if you feel that the college application forms do not provide sufficient opportunity to convey important information about yourself or your accomplishments. You may write on ivy league essays topic of your choice, or you may choose from one of the following topics:, ivy league essays. Travel, living, or working experiences in your own or other communities. What you would want your future college roommate to know about you. An intellectual experience course, project, book, discussion, paper, poetry, ivy league essays, or research topic in engineering, mathematics, science or other modes of inquiry that has meant the most to you.
A list of books you have read during the past twelve months. The mission of Harvard College is to educate our students to be citizens and citizen-leaders for society. What would you do to contribute to the lives of your classmates in advancing this mission? Each year a substantial number of students admitted to Harvard defer their admission for one year or take time off during ivy league essays. If you decided in the future to choose either option, what would you like to do? Harvard has long recognized the importance of student body diversity of all kinds. We welcome you to write about distinctive aspects of your background, personal development or the intellectual interests you might bring to your Harvard classmates.
List a few words or phrases that describe your ideal college community. List ivy league essays titles of the required readings from courses during the school year or summer that you enjoyed most in the past year. List the titles of the books you read for pleasure that you enjoyed most in the past year. List the titles of the print, electronic publications and websites you read regularly. List the titles of the films, concerts, shows, exhibits, lectures and other entertainments you enjoyed most in the past year. Please tell us what you value most about Ivy league essays and why. We know you lead a busy life, full of activities, ivy league essays, many of which are required of you. Tell us about something you do simply for the pleasure of it.
Although you may not yet know what you want to major in, which department or program at MIT appeals to you and why? At MIT, we bring people together to better the lives of others. Describe one way in which you have contributed to your community, whether in your family, the classroom, your neighborhood, etc. Describe the world you come from; for example, your family, clubs, school, community, city, or town. How has that world shaped your dreams and aspirations? How did you manage the situation? Choose one of the six extended essay options and upload a one- or two- page response.
Inthe city of Melbourne, Australia created a ''tree-mail'' service, in which all of the trees in the city received an email address so that residents could report any tree-related issues. As an unexpected result, people began to email their favorite trees sweet and occasionally humorous letters. Imagine this has been expanded to any object tree or otherwise in the world, and share with us the letter you'd send to your favorite. Inspired by Hannah Lu, Ivy league essays of You're on a voyage in the thirteenth century, sailing across the tempestuous seas. What if, suddenly, you fell off the edge of the Earth?
Inspired by Chandani Latey, AB' The word floccinaucinihilipilification is the act or habit of describing or regarding something as unimportant or of having no value. It originated in the midth century from the Latin words ''floccu,'' ''naucum,'' ''nihilum,'' and ''pilus'' - all words meaning ''of little use. Inspired by Ben Zhang, Class of Lost your keys? Noisy roommate? Feel the need to shatter windows for some reason? Create your own spell, charm, jinx, or other means for magical mayhem. How is it enacted? Is there an incantation?
Does it involve a potion or other magical object? If so, what's in it or what is it? What does it do? Inspired by Emma Sorkin, Class of Now the catch… your ivy league essays, for the rest of your life, will always be the first thing anyone you meet for the first time will see. Show us your page. If your piece is largely or exclusively visual, please make sure to share a creator's accompanying statement of at least words, which we will happily allow to be on its own, separate page, ivy league essays. Inspired by Amandeep Singh Ahluwalia, ivy league essays, Class of In the spirit of adventurous inquiry, pose your own question or choose one of our past prompts. Be original, creative, thought provoking. Draw on your best qualities as a writer, thinker, visionary, social critic, sage, citizen of the world, or future citizen of the University of Chicago; take a little risk, and have fun.
You can find our past prompts here, ivy league essays. How does the University of Chicago, as you know it now, satisfy your desire for a particular kind of learning, ivy league essays, community, and future? Please address with some specificity your own wishes and how they relate to UChicago. What is it about Yale that has led you to apply? Please respond in no more than characters ivy league essays 35 wordsto each of the following questions:. What person, past or present, ivy league essays, would you invite to speak? What question would you ask? You are teaching a Yale course, ivy league essays.
What is it called? Most first-year Yale students live in suites of four to six people, ivy league essays. What do you hope to add to your suitemates' experience? What do you hope they will add to yours? Please choose two of the following topics and respond to each in words or fewer. Think about an idea or topic that has been intellectually exciting for you. Why are you drawn to it? Reflect on your engagement with a community to which you belong. How do you feel you have contributed to this community? Yale students, faculty, and alumni engage issues of local, national, and international importance. Discuss an issue that is significant to you and how your college experience might help you address it.
What is the most significant challenge that society faces today? How did you spend your last two summers? What historical moment or event do you wish you could have witnessed?
descriptive food essay
I wanted to become part of this culture! It took me a couple of school dances to realize that my perception of America was a whopping thirty years off. As one of my peers put it, I had the music taste of an old man. Instead of modern America, I was living in the time of Afros, bell-bottoms, and disco-skating rinks. Since then, I always walk past Pitchfork with my heart aching from a failed, anachronistic assimilation, until one day, I saw my engineering teacher, Mr. Wardrop emerge from the shop. We chatted about my situation and he invited me to a session in his lab, where a group of oldies, young and old, gathered together for some quality lunchtime music. They rambled about their family fishing trips, about their experiences through the Cold War, and their Christmas traditions.
Although half a century apart, people in this group bonded over the memories that these songs carry. I soon realized that the American thing about these songs, which were mostly made by British artists, were the American memories they created. This group encouraged me to really live this country, to drive up and down I, to learn the pronunciation of obscure Massachusetts town names, to knock on doors and get to know my community. This group, which is now the Music Appreciation Society, crafted my American memory that usually takes decades and generations to foster.
I guess I did assimilate after all. Personal Statement 7. Accepted into: Dartmouth, Brown. Growing up, I took no interest in Barbie dolls. Soccer was my first step to fight such stereotypes. As I enthusiastically started a discussion about the game with the boys in my class the next day, however, I received no more than their taunts. As I finally earned my place on the school soccer field, I became the only girl warming up in a group of boys before a match. No one could help but stare at the only flapping ponytail on the field! After conquering more physical arenas, I started to extend my exploration to another male-dominated field—competitive gaming. Yet prejudice emerged almost instantly: seeing my feminine avatar, other male players, in the worst-case scenarios, would immediately quit the game before it even started; when teaming with me, they would either be patronizing or blame me for every loss.
Infuriated by their unfair stereotyping, I changed my username to a gender-neutral one. And as I tactically triumphed over my enemies, scoring aces and penta-kills and eventually leading my team to victory, I would then reveal my identity as a girl. Seeing their astonishment, I gained an unprecedented sense of accomplishment. Yet, my supposed invincibility in both physical and intellectual domains was soon faced with an insurmountable challenge — cooking. As someone who despised all feminine traits for years, my hands were tied in the kitchen. The chiffon cake that was supposed to puff high and fluffy turned out as thin and solid like pancake; the sugar in the sweet and sour ribs became carbonized instead of caramelized.
Hearing of my woes, my friends advised me to simply give up. Is femininity something I should break away from? Is embodying masculinity the only way of proving myself? I itched for an answer, and mastering cooking seemed to be my very first step. Consuming dozens of charred chiffon cake and scraping dozens of burnt woks, I painstakingly endeavored to develop my culinary talents. When I finally brought the fluffiest chiffon cake to my friends, I once again received the expected look of shock — yet this time, I aimed not at proving them wrong, but at proving myself capable of putting on any identity I desired. Every Saturday, I would start with a drenching yet fulfilling soccer practice; in the afternoons, I would devote myself to playing DotA with my friends; around dusk, I would remove the marinated beef from the refrigerator to prepare a big dinner for the family.
Now, I have found an answer for my rebellion: to go beyond the troubling two-dimensional definition of an individual and to embrace the undeniable fluidness of identity. Personal Statement 8. Accepted into: Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Columbia, UPenn, Cornell, Brown. Two years earlier, I had subscribed to the commonly-held notion that flies were disgusting and harmful pests. After all, they hang around garbage, are dirty and smelly, and spread dangerous bacteria. One day, my father brought home a hundred flies in a glass container.
Although I wanted nothing to do with them at the time, this event marked the beginning of my unlikely passion for insects. I learned from my dad that the larvae of flies, called maggots, will feed on decomposing organic material, which they transform into organic fertilizer and animal protein. Intrigued by this concept, I decided to do an experiment to validate the environmental effects of the loathsome creatures. Under my father's careful tutelage, I placed a waterlogged sponge in a small container, making sure that the sponge occupied nearly all of its volume.
This way, I knew, the flies would be able to perch on the sponge to drink without drowning. I created a cube-shaped metal framework using thin wires, fashioning it so that it optimized visibility without allowing the flies to escape. Meanwhile, my father made an egg-gathering container containing crusts of wheat and ammonia. With our experimental set-up ready to go, we added the flies, half male and half female, and prepared to track the outcome. For two weeks, I patiently observed the processes unfolding. For the first three days, the flies buzzed around their enclosure, seemingly without purpose, and nothing of note seemed to happen. By the fourth and fifth days, however, large amounts of eggs appeared in the egg-gathering container. These were tiny, white, and spherical, their clusters forming strange runes and sigils.
Three days later, the eggs morphed into wiggly maggots whose reek was intense. Struggling to overcome my nausea, I collected the maggots and scattered them over the food scraps, covering them with a transparent container to ensure that they did not escape. Imperceptibly but inexorably, something was changing. When I removed the containers two days later, some of the maggots had become reddish, ellipsoid pupae. Most amazingly, the foul smell had disappeared from the container, implying that the maggots had in fact transformed the decaying organic material into more palatable elements! Having experienced my first major entomological excitement, I was inspired to share the bug that I had caught, so to speak.
I reported on my experiment at school and was encouraged to find that my peers were more interested in it than I had expected. Out of continued curiosity, I founded the Biodegradables Environmental Science Club, as part of which I repeated my initial experiment several times both to instruct new members and to collect data on different variables. When I look at newborn maggots now, I feel not revulsion, but rather interest and wonder. Most gratifyingly, I have seen other club members experience the same shift in attitude as we put science into action together. Much to my surprise, I have been changed from a girl who screamed at any kind of bug into a budding entomologist who finds insects captivating and beautiful.
Though they might at first glance appear to be the lowliest of this world's creatures, flies and maggots have much to teach us about life: That the value of raw material can rarely be assessed at first sight or smell! Personal Statement 9. Accepted into: Cornell, Columbia, UPenn. History has always been my greatest interest, yet through my years of learning I have come to understand that teaching history is anything but an easy job. My years of suspicion were confirmed in the first class of my history tutorship. With students resting their chins on one hand like a half-hung telephone and staring at me with blank, unfocused eyes, I knew I had to figure out some way to grab their attention. I returned home that evening with the best intentions, yet after I opened up my fifth blank Microsoft file in a state of pure frustration, my concentration and confidence faded.
I was like a waif lost in the crowd until I noticed a thick, familiar album that whisked me into a remembrance of the days my father and I used to spend pouring through its crisp pages. When I was a child, instead of fairy tales, my father would tell me stories about the antique porcelains in the album. I obtained an unexplainable pleasure from sitting on his knees and unraveling the intricate veils from those charming porcelains, the intense aroma of which indicated their historical nature. Holding a reading glass and a dictionary of seal characters, I would stand on the table for hours trying to understand the depictions on the jars until I was convinced it was impossible. Frustrated, I would relent and ask my father, who patiently illuminated whatever mysteries I came across.
Inspired by his brilliance, I started my journey of learning Chinese calligraphy in hopes of one day being able to appreciate the porcelains like my father did. Spurred by these sweet memories, I stood up and headed towards the shelf. My eyes strayed to a section that had been my favorite as a child, one containing fragments from a porcelain vase that I had accidentally broken long ago. Although shattered, every piece represents a moment of the Stone Story with its vivid painting. Throughout childhood, I tried many times but failed to glue these pieces together, yet always found it exhilarating and thought-provoking to rearrange the broken segments and build my own Stone Story in different ways.
That was it! I rushed back to my computer and without hesitation abandoned the clichéd presentation format that only showcased my personal interpretation of historical events. I began typing up my plan for centering the course around storytelling. This way, everyone could present their opinions and imaginations by telling stories just as I did for myself based on the vase debris. My new plan for the tutorial class proved itself effective almost instantaneously. Students were filled with passion when they presented their own understandings of history. Everyone found their respective niche and together, we weaved an intricate and fascinating picture of African American history with our diverse conceptions. History is like a broken vase. Personal Statement Accepted into: Yale, Cornell, Columbia, UPenn, Dartmouth, Brown.
What I most remember about my arrival in California is the ubiquity of the color yellow. It was mid-autumn, and golden leaves piled on the side of the road, crackling when I jumped on them. I remember holding a plump fruit under the sun, admiring how it glistened in the yellow light. The first English song that I completely understood was Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree. The song told the story of a man returning home from prison, hoping with all his heart that his wife still loved him; the yellow ribbon symbolized her positive answer. Yellow was the color of hope, anticipation, and enjoyment.
Two years later, I returned to China, and my world was red. Every day I wore a red scarf, the item all my peers were wearing to symbolize the country; the outer casing of scholarship medals were bright red, and they had a fuzzy texture. In Chinese celebrations, crimson lanterns hanged on doorknobs, each with a candle glowing inside, lighting the streets with warm rays. During Chinese New Year, I received red envelopes containing lucky money from my parents and elder relatives that carried their best wishes to me. Red was the color of prosperity, happiness, and tradition. Every color had its own characteristic and emotion that linked to my memory in some way. At that point in my life, I was satisfied using different shades of the same color in my paintings.
As time went on, I started to feel that my painting lacked authenticity. My emotions are not sheer blue or complete green with straight lines surrounding them. No one color dominates me; my emotions are the result of a mixture of colors—all of equal importance—that synthesize, connect with, and interact with each other. Realizing this, I embarked on my search for a new way of painting that resembles the way my emotions are formed. I found the answer in watercolor. When my paintbrush touches the paper, the color diffuses on the page, another tint of a different color touches the first color, and a connection is formed. The colors seep into each other slowly and then stop, almost like water seeping into soil. When the colors dry, an irregular edge forms between them; this random, spontaneous natural interfusion is what makes watercolor breathtaking.
The colors take on a life of their own. Watercolor is now more than a reflection of my emotions—it has inspired me to become a person who can effectively interact with those around me. In the end, life is about interacting with others, as humans are by definition social beings. Connections are vital to building relationships; in a society, different roles are of equal importance, and we need different elements to form a community. Just like how watercolor depicts emotions, the roles in our communities are not defined in straight, rigid lines.
Rather, through interactions and communication, people can flux between roles and groups, creating a fluid society. Thanks to watercolor, the way I interact with others will enable me to lead a more colorful life. Accepted into: Yale, Cornell, UPenn, Dartmouth. My sixth birthday dinner was illuminated by a magical dish—baked orange-spotted grouper. Beneath that nose-tickling scent of cooked garlic and the refreshing herb sauce was a tantalizing sweetness. Crisp shredded ginger and spring onion contrasted with the slightly seared, golden fish skin. I could not wait to grab my first slice, even dismissing the Chinese tradition that I should serve my parents first. The dish soon vanished before our eyes, yet the flavor lingered in my mind and has become one of my most cherished childhood memories.
The memory of that flavor continued to tantalize me as I grew up. Every year on my birthday, my father would take me to that same seafood restaurant. Every time I browsed through the menu, I noticed that the price of the orange-spotted grouper increased while the prices of most other fishes, once as costly as the grouper, decreased. I asked the owner why the groupers were so expensive. Apologetically, he replied that because groupers can only survive in a very specific environment, they are much more difficult to raise than other types of fish. This experience aroused my curiosity—why were groupers so difficult to raise? I researched until I learned about concepts of DNA polymeraseandgel electrophoresis, which concerns the dissection of DNA and DNA analysis.
I began to speculate that a virus might be the culprit. If we could extract the DNA of the virus, we might be able to solve the problem. To verify my hypothesis and gain hands-on experience of analyzing DNA so that I could take a concrete step in the direction of solving this mystery, I applied for an internship at the South China Sea Institute of Oceanology, where research on viruses killing orange-spotted groupers are conducted and where vaccines are created. Working as a research assistant and under the guidance of my colleagues, not only did I learn to use equipment that had previously only existed for me in a textbook, but I also gained an appreciation for the importance of observation and intrepidity in a young scientist. Daily, I repeated monotonous experimental procedures to find the unknown virus.
Most of the time, we ended up getting nothing. Every day, the pungent odor of buffers and agarose solution strongly contrasted with the lovely image of the grouper dish in my mind, infusing the lab with a pleasant, imaginary aroma. Like the path to revolution, the path to deliciousness is arduous. Still, with a firm belief that I would find the key to increasing the population of farmed groupers, I kept trying. One day, the results finally captured my attention. The bands were bizarrely long and had a slightly different hue than I was used to.
I immediately compared it with all the others. Believing that this DNA segment belonged to the virus, I immediately informed my colleagues. We redesigned the DNA primers, confirmed the difference, and found out the unknown virus SGIV. The lab is now designing vaccine for groupers based on the virus, and I feel honored to continue this research to help more people enjoy the delicacy of orange-spotted groupers. From this experience, I have come to understand that all science is not necessarily as metaphysical or complicated as string theory. Science can also be as down-to-earth as designing detergent or figuring out a vaccine so that more people can afford to enjoy a delicious meal.
Our vaccine is now used by some fish farms, and we have already heard promising results. Some farmers even sent us groupers as a token of gratitude. Accepted into: Yale, Columbia, Cornell, UPenn, Dartmouth. Law enforcement officers are the first fence to impose public justice; meanwhile, this common notion holds them to higher standards and closer scrutiny in the justice system. The unique nature of the job can easily incite tension and often puts police officers under the spotlight. Instead, the justice system is based on compromises and the essence that people should be treated equally.
Unable to determine the rationale behind this disparity, I was perplexed and irked. At first, my opinion seemed to be on the opposite side of campaigns against police brutality. To have a real impact, I needed larger platform. A white background with just a few grammatically incorrect sentences, the website was barren and boring. How much impact could one website actually have? How much time would I need to put into this project? A series of questions flooded my mind, and I lifted my finger from the mouse. At the same time, I reflected on my initial motives for wanting to become involved. With a crisp click, my email was on its way. I also created an online petition and worked with other volunteers to gather signatures for the judge. Before the sentencing date, over 20, people had signed our petition.
A definitive justice is hard to find, but fairness is always a resort. Accepted into: Cornell, Columbia, Dartmouth, UPenn. Enter Ava. Tall, thin, clad in black, eyes hardened by a mask of charcoal eyeliner. She struts nonchalantly in her combat boots, looking so incongruous and dangerous in the school. Appearances can be deceiving. I first met Ava at an art exhibition in Oregon. It surprised me that a girl so punk-rock could love still life paintings. Since then, we became friends and she would tell me her stories. She told me of her travels to Germany alone when she was just fifteen, how she devotes herself to gender inequality and LBGTQ issues, and how she swears to stop the demolition of old houses in Kyoto.
I realized that I had been stuck in my comfort zone for a while, and I did not want to leave it. For example, on the morning of my first Thanksgiving in the US, I was treated a bowl of white rice, without any side dishes or even a glass of water. I missed my buddies, not people who just treated me as a bookish Asian girl. I doubted my decision to have left behind the country I knew, to enter a nation where cultures collide. Even the host family assumed that I, a Japanese girl, would prefer rice over pizza. Slowly, I started to empathize and see situations from other perspectives. Due to my fascination with Spanish culture, I attended a camp in Barcelona last summer, which was the most unforgettable experience. We went to Casa Batillo, La Pedrera, La Sagrada Familia, and finally reached Park Guell twelve hours later.
We decided to measure the city with our feet. Using a map as guide, we walked five miles. Rather than talking, we looked and experienced with our hearts. I discovered a different me. I would never imagine walking five miles to explore a city with only a map, or traveling alone in Spain. I forgot my non-professional Spanish and the fact that I was a total stranger to the city. I even forgot my resistance to approach strangers. When I asked a passing elegant old lady for directions, when I danced to the music with buskers on the square, I was inexplicably satisfied.
Our comfort zones represent safety and ease. Stepping outside the boundaries of comfort, a much more glamorous and expansive world awaits. I hope that through the upcoming years, I can discover the art world of major international cities, further expanding my mind and heart. As Ava and this trip to Barcelona taught me, everybody is welcome by world, and I am no exception. Accepted into: Dartmouth, Cornell, Brown. It was a cloudy spring day with mosquitoes in the moist air, yet I was thrilled. For the first time in my life, I was going to plant a tree. Dad and Grandpa shoveled a hole in our front yard. I gently lifted the sapling and placed it into the dirt and filled up the hole.
Mom stabled the sapling with a few poles. Grandma watered it. For years, it grew in our yard, nurtured by sunlight and tropical rains, producing a kind of tart, juicy fruit named wampee. Twice a year when I pick the wampee, I am reminded of those in my family who planted the tree with me. My grandparents anchored the roots of my life. Grandpa was enlisted in the army for five years and later worked as an engineer in the ship manufacturing industry. Yet, he never lost his passion for literature and calligraphy. He taught me how to recite classical poetry, tucking me into bed with stories and parables. In contrast, Grandma spent her adolescence moving across the country with her family. Away from her hometown, she became independent and persevered in the face of challenges: bearing the hot weather and spicy cuisine, practicing burdensome physical tasks, and fitting into a new community.
As the roots of my family tree, Grandpa and Grandma gathered experience from hardship, absorbed the marrow of life, and eventually passed them on to my parents and me. My parents are the supportive trunk of the family tree. Inheriting the trait of persistence from my grandparents, they founded an International Trade Corporation that exports household appliances. For the past ten years, they have achieved recognition in the local industry and made millions of dollars in annual trade volume. My parents were hands-on entrepreneurs: they worked long hours, negotiated deals with factories, trained new employees, and built relationships with clients.
Though I did not witness the beginning of their entrepreneurship, I have seen the stack of contracts in their bedroom and heard their voices on the phone as the dinner on the table grew cold. Growing up under the sufficient moisture and fertile soil my family provides, I am increasingly aware of my responsibilities in the family business. I noticed that the United States, which has been importing most fans made in China, would be a potential market for expansion. Moreover, since electrical fans are a seasonal product, I recommended my parents to export heaters to countries like the U. as well, since in such way the firm would run more evenly and profitably during the full business year.
I learned to write proposals, contribute ideas, and assist my parents. This summer, I went back to visit the wampee tree. The rising sun kindled the sky, and where we planted the sapling stood a leafy tree laden with fruits. Looking back, I have come to see how my family has shaped my identity from childhood to adulthood, just like the sapling that has transformed into a tree. The roots went deep, like my grandparents who nurtured my mind fundamentally; the trunk was erected steadily, like my parents spreading nutrition into my every veins. My grandparents have taught me the importance of traditional values, both cultural and personal. My parents have nurtured and protected me while allowing opportunities for me to develop multiple interests and widen my horizon.
Their support enables me, the leaves, to reach the light and the air. Now, I will be replanted across the Pacific, where I hope to be nourished by the soil of my future college and blossom into someone my family would be proud of. Accepted into: Yale, Cornell, Dartmouth, UPenn. A group of kids playing rope-less tug-of-war. It's not a great shot, but it pictured the fifteen-year-old me trying to immortalize a moment. The girls interlock their hands, some wrap their arms around those before them, some clutch to others' shirts. My hands feel the friction b etween their hands and the nylon.
My scapula aches as the girls lean back. Innocent laughter echoes around me. The rope-less tug-of-war might seem dull to us, but their faces sparkled with glee. From this point onward, every year these kids, who had never seen a camera before, patiently await my envelope full of photos: photos of them chasing hogs, photos of them planting potatoes, photos of them doodling on ragged walls, photos of them waving goodbye. A girl clings fast to the window frame, the glass separating two worlds. Hope glides in those gazing eyes, penetrates the blurred glass, and incites tears.
She hopes to break through that glass, to tear down that rusty iron frame, to crack open the restraints set by destitution, to finally emerge into our world. Indeed, we dwell in opposite worlds. We have high technology and sports equipment for entertainment; we travel thousands of miles to the Caribbean, to the Alps. Everything we take for granted is mere fantasy to them. Her eyes planted seeds deep in my heart. These seeds prompt me to sow their dreams in other hearts. These seeds prompt me to fundraise, to study architecture, to one day build them better schoolhouses with clear windows that do not separate, but join, our worlds.
A monochromatic background draws attention to the heart-rending shoes. The torn clothes, dangling threads, and cracked rubber document the hours the kids walk to school. The dim and coarse concrete illustrates their lackluster background: childhood. We all must tread up and down countless muddy knolls through our trail of growth. They only have the roughly paved dirt road wriggling into the village. They have thorns and lurking vipers. They have loot—woodchips, dirt, rocks, lichen—that their shoes collected, proof of their experience and strength. We pray that they will walk out of the dirt road, out of the dark shadow, and pave a wider, smoother, brighter future. Glancing through these old photos, I found myself treading through my own muddy trail of growth. Desire, wonder, and desperation were vividly conveyed through texture, lines, and colors.
My photos morphed into powerful and touching storytellers who narrate my emotions and those of the otherwise ignored. Through these years, I gushed with pride at seeing the kids grow, a series of my photos reposted , times, and over 30, volunteers sign up to teach at Liangshan. The camera—the responsibility—has grown heavier on my shoulders. Accepted into: Oxford , Columbia, Cornell, UPenn, Brown. Stuffing myself with mouthfuls of food was the best way to avoid the following awkward silence. Hastily wiping away the soup dripping down my chin, I mumbled under the gaze of countless of relatives, their eyes brimming with anticipation. Having spent the first six years of my life in Chongqing and the next eleven in Canton, I have learned both dialects and grown used to the flavors of both cities.
My family is a peculiar composition featuring two different tastes: my Chongqingnese mom, hot-tempered, addicted to chilies; my Cantonese stepdad, even-tempered, fond of every flavor but spicy. The two cities have been so intertwined in my memories that I can hardly tell which one I belong to. Yet this is not the case for my parents: their rooted cultural backgrounds have endowed them with distinctive accents, different tastes for food, and unique temperaments. After bringing the pot home, I stewed a spicy Chongqing broth in one half and a thin Cantonese stock in the other. The two coexisted peacefully in one pot, one hot and dense, the other mild and light.
My family resembles this yin-yang pot, with my Chongqing mom and Cantonese stepdad living together in harmony, yet maintaining unique attitudes towards life. My mum and stepdad have grown to love this pot. Gorging myself with food from both halves while my parents choose their preferred soups, I suddenly find the answer to the where-I-belong-to question. Experiencing the values of both cities, I am the copper slice in a hotpot. I belong to neither half, yet I have direct experiences from both, enriched with the p rofound system of the two values. It is my existence that allows the two broths to coexist peacefully. I have helped each broth preserve its unique flavor while breaking down cultural barriers so that they have become more tolerant of each other.
Bombarded by a constant ebb and flow of flavors from both sides, my copper slice absorbs both tastes. Being the copper slice in the middle, I am free to delve into whichever culture suits me most the moment. I have a multiple-entry visa between these two distinct worlds, and I plan taking advantage of it. My relatives shrugged, obviously not content with my strange, vague answer. But I like being the cooper slice between the Chongqing and Canton broths. With my experience of living in China and studying under an American system, I wish I can better the understandings between different cultures, facilitating everyone to coexist harmoniously in the Yale-NUS campus and working towards a better future. Accepted into: Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Columbia, UPenn.
Rather, we are all products of a larger societal context and upbringing. The world I come from — m y family, my community, and my school — h as shaped me into the girl I am today, presenting me with experiences and opportunities which have allowed me to unearth my passions. My parents introduced me to animation when they took me to watch Finding Nemo. I loved the movie so much that I begged my parents for the DVD, which I have seen at least thirty times. This charming film left a deep impression on me, both visually and emotionally. T he advanced computer graphics presented the sea in such a unique way that each frame was resplendent with b eauty.
The more animated films my parents took me to, the more my love and fascination for CGI animation grew. Movies such as Kung Fu Panda and Up taught me invaluable life lessons, such as the power of faith and the importance of family, respectively. Through animation, my family built a castle of love, imagination, and wonderment. These movies continuously shape my dream: to be an animator, employing advanced computer technology to create art which will hopefully spread optimism and happiness to viewers. My school allowed me to share my passion for violin with others.
Standing onstage before the chamber ensemble, I took a deep breath and raised the instrument to my shoulder. The movement advanced from the joyful chirp of birds to the languorous flow of a fountain to the climax- the tempestuous storm. The storm calmed and the piece ended with a slow vibrato. Thunderous applause brought me back to the real world. I beamed with pride, honored that my classmates and teachers had delighted in my performance. My community has instilled in me a sense of belonging. Since , I volunteered at a primary school. During my last class, I decided to teach paper-cutting, as art is usually not emphasized in the curricula of smaller schools.
I patiently watched an eight-year-old, Min, clumsily cut along the pre-sketched lines on a triangular piece of folded paper. After twenty minutes, she unfolded her work, exhilaration spreading across her face. Whoa, how beautiful! Through actively volunteering in the community, I created a strong bond with the local school and its students. Consciously and unconsciously, my world has provided me with opportunities and unforgettable experiences which have given rise to my potentials. I hope that when I enter a new world, university, I will discover more fields of interest. Be it a programmer or an animator, an artist or a professor, I know that my world will support me in becoming who I want to be.
Accepted into: Dartmouth, Cornell, Columbia, UPenn. However, growing up, my mother practiced a draconian child-rearing method, which caused me doubt her love for me. You see, my father left my family when I was just two years old. As I found no comfort in my mother, I had no one to share my day-to-day events with. If things at school went poorly, such as a bad grade on an exam, my mother would rap me over the knuckles or make me stand in a corner. If I pushed it and answered back, she would send me to bed without dinner. Rather than simply making an imaginary friend, like most children my age and lacking maternal comfort would do, I found solace in the only outlet I could: the arts.
When I was five, my mom enrolled me in drawing lessons. Sheets of sketch paper overflowed with elements from my overactive imagination- detailed, wordless stories. As I grew older, the process of creating helped me develop a habit of doing things earnestly and persistently. After school, I would escape to my room and draw for hours. When I am lost in the world of art, images in my mind materialize as sketches on a page. The feeling of satisfaction when I realize that my pencil or brush has accurately recorded my inspirations is inexplicable and incomparable.
When I am in the art world, a world in which creativity is King, anything is possible. A couple of years later, my mother decided that it would be prudent to take music lessons, as she probably realized that academics were just not my forte. I chose the violin, which provides a totally different aesthetic experience than drawing. With the organic dynamics of tempo and notes come either fervent movement or peaceful tranquility. I learned to interject my full emotions into the familiar notes, sprinkling each piece with my personality. As an artist and a violinist, creative aesthetics are as essential as air. Expressing myself through art allows me to share what I deem visually or aesthetically pleasurable with others in the hopes they that will derive joy from my works as well.
Having such a creative outlet of self-expression saved me from an otherwise emotionless existence. No matter what my mood or thoughts, there were multiple ways of conveying them either through my sketching pencils or through that hollow wooden instrument. The arts became the means by which I grew on my adolescent process of self-discovery. By the time I decided to set off to high school in the United States, I was much more self-aware and developed than before. My artistic skills had empowered me with confidence to handle daily tasks on my own as well as hope for the future. However, the day of my flight, I received jarring news: my mother confessed that she had been suffering from cancer for the past XX years. However, she did not want to burden me with the stress and sorrow that comes with such a dreaded disease, so she kept quiet.
She admitted that her strict ways of raising me were to guarantee that I would be able to take care of myself and earn my own living in the likely case that she did not survive much longer. Upon hearing this news, tears started to uncontrollably flow from my eyes. I forgave my mother for having been so strict and thanked her for the seemingly little ways that she demonstrated her love—spending precious money that could have been used on her treatments to keep me in art and music classes—that in reality, made the world of difference in determining my fate. Despite not having been the warmest of mothers, in her own way, my mother helped me grow my wings to fly toward a better future, one in which she may not be a part of.
And that, I will never take for granted. The black water, filled with a mélange of industrial raw materials but showing no signs of life, aroused in me a sense of unease. The gray grass, covered in colorful, organic garbage but no flowers, disturbed me. It wasn't until a weekend last spring, when I finally returned to my native village, a small town near Jiangsu, that I had my impression of Chinese rural communities profoundly overturned. The scenery wasn't tidy or beautiful like it was in my memories of times past. I had taken the plunge and secured my very first part time job.
I was flipping burgers, and I was excited. I was accustomed to academia, to the sports field, to the stage, but this was an entirely fresh paradigm. Anuj, the staff trainer and joyously friendly employee tasked with the rather unfortunate challenge of having to teach me hamburgerological cuisine greeted me with a firm handshake. This guy meant business. The familiar fast-food funk wafted through the tiny store like cologne in an airport duty-free store — overpowering, faintly nauseous and all-encompassing. The filing cabinets in my mind usually reserved for physics formulas, economics jargon and debating cases were tipped out and crammed with permutations and combinations of burgers — Otropo, Chicken Wrappa, Bondi. Exceptions to French conjugations were momentarily replaced with extra topping combos.
The till became my new graphical calculator. With surgeon-like precision Anuj modelled how to wrap a burger in four swift motions — place burger in the dead centre, pull wrap from left to right, then right to left, then roll the corners. He gestured towards his demonstration model and motioned for me to take to the stage. It was show time! Unfortunately, my burger ended up looking like the after-effects of Hurricane Katrina. Anuj patted me on the back, said ʻyouʼll learn fastʼ — and smirked. Suddenly the barricades were overrun and an influx of jandal-wearing, sun-glass toting beach-goers charged into the store.
The orders came flying faster than budget cuts at a Tea Party convention. I heard the petrifying three words ʻchicken tenderloin comboʼ. This was it, the Everest of my culinary career. It involved delving into the bossʼs prized stock of ʻsucculent tenderloinsʼ as he had described, ʻthe highest quality meat we sell, expensive to buy and delicate to cook, we canʼt afford any mistakesʼ. I was handling meaty gold. As the first tenderloin slapped onto the grill with a satisfying sizzle, I could imagine the bossʼs scorching eyes scrutinizing my every action from behind the prying lens of the staff security camera. Sun-glass toter number two, the tenderloin culprit, then muttered ʻExcuse me! Sorry mate, my fault, I meant the chicken nuggets. Anuj saw my face, contorted in anguish, and took to the rescue with business-like efficiency.
He rolled his eyeballs. In one graceful movement he scooped the tenderloins and flicked them into the cooler with one hand, and in perfect synchrony, removed the emergency chicken nuggets with the other. His eyes glistened with intensity. With consummate mastery his arms flicked from grill to cooker to table to bread to wrap. In less than ninety seconds, the order was complete. The bossʼs eyeballs returned to their sockets. The day was saved. I worship the Anujs of this world. Certain jobs may look simple but that simplicity masks years of expertise. My skills in the rococo art of burger flipping paled into insignificance beside the master.
I learnt more than burger flipping that day. I learnt humility, respect and the value of a good chicken tenderloin. The essay displays humility. Even though the author is a very gifted academic, he shows that he's not above flipping burgers. His time watching and learning from Anuj demonstrates the candidate is eager to learn and marvels at expertise in any field. The new burger-flipping environment challenged the writer , which shows that he's not afraid to push himself out of his comfort zone. The juxtaposition between the mundane life of fast food work and the overall tone, which includes jokes and melodrama, demonstrates the author's insight and unique perspective.
The essay effortlessly shows the kind of person the author is and what he's likely to contribute to college life. Colleges respond to your ingenuity and self-awareness, not to your vast knowledge bank or a spiel of how impressive your were during high school. Year after year, Crimson helps students gain admission into all 8 Ivy League universities. Students who work with us are up to four times more likely to get an Ivy offer than the general applicant. Find out more about our Admissions Support Program. LET'S TALK. The Admission Essay That Got it's Writer into 5 Ivy League's 19 MAR Arguably the most difficult part of the US college application process is the admissions essay, or personal statement.
It's also the most exciting part, because it's your chance to show admissions officers your personality. General Tips For Writing an Admissions Essay The common application personal statement is a word essay that you will submit to all US colleges to which you apply. Unfortunately, there's no "formula" for this essay. Understand The Prompt Before you even begin to think about writing, you need to analyse the essay "prompt". Pick the prompt that appeals most to you and start writing! Loosen Up: Get That Flow Happening Yes, your college application is serious business, but it's not the time to play it safe. Remember: you need to stand out, not blend in. Follow a prompt - like this one from the common application: Describe a topic, idea, or concept you find so engaging that it makes you lose all track of time.
Let this idea or topic pour out of you. Be Honest If you want your academic essay to be more than just another piece of paper in the sea of applications, then differentiate yourself with honesty. You need to do the same. Writing about personal, formative experiences are key to a successful essay. Craft a Strong Opening College admissions officers read through literally thousands of essays each admissions round. When it comes to standing out, first impressions count! Start off with a bang. Demand attention. Give them no other option but to continue reading and grant you admission. Each sentence should build on the last and compel the reader onward. Good writing is done line by line. Proofread and Then Proofread Again and Again This tip goes without saying: you must proofread your essay Not James Joyce, nor Cormac McCarthy, nor Aravind Adiga, nor Sylvia Plath, nor Marlon James, nor Hilary Mantel, nor Hunter S.
You are no exception no offence. It immediately signals you have poor attention to detail. Always get a second pair of eyes someone else to have a look at your admissions essay. Whatever you do, never submit without reviewing! Share One Clear Insight The more narrow your focus, the more concise and effective your essay will be. Share the one thing that you learned. Try to share one profound message, not ten lacklustre statements. Now, For The Admissions Essay That Worked Guess what? I've started the process for you. Then I've added some analysis at the end for good measure.
While you're reading this essay, think about the following: The way the author expresses who he is His perspective on life How he demonstrated his value and what he can add to campus lifestyle The use of humour, colour, tone, and metaphor. The prompt: The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. The essay: The Surgeon The apron drooped to my knees. I grimaced, pirouetted and pleaded with the security camera. Analysis The essay displays humility. Final Thoughts As we can see in the example essay, you must be brave and honest. In order to differentiate your university essay, you must take risks.
The personal statement is your time to shine, so shine bright and show your true colours! Want help gaining admission to top Universities? Crimson Students are up to 4x more likely to gain admission to top universities through our holistic personalised programs Find out more. Our Services Admissions Support. Crimson Internship Program. Get your Essay Reviewed. Crimson Collegiate Services. About Us Our Mission. What is Crimson. Our University Admissions Strategists.
No comments:
Post a Comment