"Who Am I?"
--by Michael Cho
I wish I could write about the Michael Cho who stars in my Walter Mitty-like fantasies. If only my personal statement could consist of my name followed by such terms as Olympic athlete, master chef, boy genius, universal best friend, and Prince
Charming to every hopeful woman. These claims would be, at worst, outright lies, or
at best, gross hyperbole. My dreams, however, take their place alongside my memories, experiences, and genes in the palette that constitutes who I am.
Who am I? I am a product of my reality and my imagination. I am innately depraved, yet I am made perfect. I plan my day with the knowledge that "Everything is meaningless" (Ecclesiastes 1:2), but I must "make the most of every opportunity"
(Colossians 4:5). I search for simple answers, but find only complex questions.
Once, on my way to a wrestling tourname
whether living in an abode which rotated near the speed of light would result in my being younger (utilizing the Theory of Relativity) and stronger (utilizing the
properties of adaptation along with the definition of centripetal and gravitational
force) that I failed to realize that I had left my wrestling shoes in my locker. My mother says that my decision to wrestle is indicative of the fact I don't think.
Through working in a nursing home, the most important lesson I've learned is that I have many lessons yet to learn. Thus the most valuable knowledge I possess
reminds me how little knowledge I have.
Often times people make the mistake of assuming that mutually exclusive qualities bear no relationship to one another. Not so! These dichotomies continuously redefine each other. In some cases one is totally dependent on the other's existence. What is faith without doubt? Without one, the other does not exit. When juxtaposed,
opposites create a dialectic utterly more profound and beautiful than its parts. Walt Whitman embraces this syncretism by stating, "Do I contradict myself? Very well
then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)." My qualities, though
contradictory, define who I am.
Although I can't make fantastic claims about myself, I must still acknowledge and
cherish the dreams that I have. Admittedly, it is tragic when one is so absorbed in
fantasy that he loses touch with reality. But it is equally tragic when one is so
absorbed in reality that ho loses the ability to dream. When a healthy amount of
reality and fantasy are synthesized, the synergy is such that something beautiful
will undoubtedly result. ANALYSIS
This applicant addresses the proverbial question of "Who Am I?" In doing so, he expresses, both implicitly and explicitly, his hobbies, extracurricular activities, and
outlook on life. The writer not only reveals his participation in wrestling, work at a
nursing home, and knowledge of Quantum Mchanics, but he also exposes the reader
to many aspects of his personality and inner thoughts on life. His questioning of the meaning of life and evaluation of his own identity reveal an inquisitive side to his personality.
Overall, this essay is well written and easy to read. The introduction is strong in that the applicant levels with admission officer by admitting he does not consider himself
to be a spectacular individual, giving the impression that what follows is written
honestly. Another storng point of the essay is that it reveals many of the activities in which the writer is involved. This serves to give the admissions officer a more personalized picture of the
very well used and demonstrate the strong intellect of the writer.
While the essay does provide some insight into the philosophical thoughts of the applicant, in many ways it is too theoretical. The writer could improve the essay by
specifically listing the dreams or goals he cherishes or perhaps by writing in more
detail about one of the many experiences he mentions in the statement. The flow of
the essay is also hindered in a number of ways. First, the word choice seems slightly
unnatural – almost as if the applicant relied on a thesaurus when writing the essay; as a result, the tone seems to be a bit contrived. Second, while the overall theme of self-identification is maintained throughout the essay, the individual paragraphs
jump from one topic to the next in a disjointed fashion. For example, it is interesting
to know that the applicant worked at a nursing home, but mentioning such does not
seem to fit with the overall progression of the essay. It is important that the personal
statement convey to the admissions officer a sense of who you are and what you are
like in person, but it is not necessary to cram every extracurricular activity or accomplishment into the essay; there are other sections of the application for listing such things.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Warm Hearts and a Cold Gun
"Warm Hearts and a Cold Gun"
--by James A. Colbert
If a six-foot-tall man slinging a semi-automatic rifle had approached me in
Greenfield, I probably would have screamed for help. However, being in a foreign
land, unable even to speak the native tongue, my options of recourse were
significantly limited. The looming creature, dressed mostly in black, with short, dark hair, proceeded to grasp my right hand. As a smile furtively crept across his face, he
mouthed, "Time to get on the bus."
"What?" I nervously spurted at the cold weapon before me.
"I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself," he said. "I'm Ofir, your counselor."
Completely unnerved, I hurried onto the bus to be sure the gun remained at his side. "Did you know one of our leaders is a guy with a gun?" I asked a girl from Philadelphia, sitting beside me.
"What did you expect? This is Israel, not New England."
At the end of my junior year I decided to go to Israel to escape from the stimulating
but confining atmosphere of Deerfield Academy. I yearned for a new environment
where I could meet students unlike the ones I knew, where I could explore a foreign
culture, and where I could learn more about my religion. The brochure from the
Nesiya Institute had mentioned a "creative journey" featuring hikes in the desert, workshops with prominent Israeli artists, dialogues between Arabs and Jews, and
discussions on Israeli culture and Judaism, but nowhere had it mentioned
counselors with rifles. I suddenly wondered if I had made the right decision.
Weeks later, sitting outside the Bayit Va'gan Youth hostel as the sun began to sink in the Israeli sky, I smiled with reassurance. As I looked up from writing in my journal, a group of misty clouds converged to form an opaque mass. But the inexorable sun demonstrated her tenacity. One by one, golden arrows pierced the celestial canopy to illuminate the lush, green valley between Yad Vashem and the hills of western Jerusalem. I could feel holiness in those rays of golden light that radiated from the
sun like spokes of a heavenly wheel.
That moment was one of the most spiritual of my life. The natural grandeur of the sight seemed to bring together the most meaningful experiences of my five weeks in Israel: watching the sunrise over the Red Sea, wading chest-deep through a
stream in the Golan Heights, looking up at the myriad stars in the desert sky, exploring a cave in Negev, and climbing the limestone precipice of Masada. These natural temples far surpassed any limestone sanctuary built by man.
Shifting my gaze downwards, I noticed Ofir standing beside me with his eyes fixed on the sacred valley. At age twenty-five, his head was already balding, but the expression on his face, with his eyes stretched wide and his jaws parted, reminded
me of a child starting with delight at a fish in an aquarium. For over a minute neither
of us spoke. That poignant silence said more than a thousand words could ever
express.
Being an empirical person, I need confirmation, to prove to myself that I
understood.
Finally, I said to Ofir, "This is holiness." His weapon bounced as he swiveled to look me in the eye. As he nodded in affirmation, a beam of light transcended his pupils to produce a telling spark of corroboration.
Emerson said in "Nature," "The sun illuminates only the eye of man, but shines into the eye and heart of the child." I carried an L. L. Bean backpack, and Ofir carried an Uzi, but that afternoon as the sun warmed our hearts, we were both children.
ANALYSIS
The topic of this essay works well because it conveys the author's personal growth
from an experience unique to most American students. His declaration of his
decision to leave the atmosphere of his boarding school to travel abroad establishes him as a student willing to broaden his horizons and venture to the unknown. The
initial comparison of Israel to his hometown is thoughtfully phrased and expresses
his honest feelings.
The author is extremely concise in this essay, describing everything that is
necessary and leaving out unnecessary details. His personal voice is evident. Rather than give plain descriptions of the places he visited, the author recalls his personal
reaction to seeing such places, therefore allowing the reader to get to know the writer's own perspective.
The dialogue in this essay is also succinct, but complete. The author integrates other
voices in his essay because those voices are part of his experience abroad. Finally,
the closing quote from Emerson's "Nature" is well used and ties together with the
poignant imagery of the contrasting L. L. Bean backpack and Uzi, leaving the reader
with a vision of what the writer experienced.
--by James A. Colbert
If a six-foot-tall man slinging a semi-automatic rifle had approached me in
Greenfield, I probably would have screamed for help. However, being in a foreign
land, unable even to speak the native tongue, my options of recourse were
significantly limited. The looming creature, dressed mostly in black, with short, dark hair, proceeded to grasp my right hand. As a smile furtively crept across his face, he
mouthed, "Time to get on the bus."
"What?" I nervously spurted at the cold weapon before me.
"I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself," he said. "I'm Ofir, your counselor."
Completely unnerved, I hurried onto the bus to be sure the gun remained at his side. "Did you know one of our leaders is a guy with a gun?" I asked a girl from Philadelphia, sitting beside me.
"What did you expect? This is Israel, not New England."
At the end of my junior year I decided to go to Israel to escape from the stimulating
but confining atmosphere of Deerfield Academy. I yearned for a new environment
where I could meet students unlike the ones I knew, where I could explore a foreign
culture, and where I could learn more about my religion. The brochure from the
Nesiya Institute had mentioned a "creative journey" featuring hikes in the desert, workshops with prominent Israeli artists, dialogues between Arabs and Jews, and
discussions on Israeli culture and Judaism, but nowhere had it mentioned
counselors with rifles. I suddenly wondered if I had made the right decision.
Weeks later, sitting outside the Bayit Va'gan Youth hostel as the sun began to sink in the Israeli sky, I smiled with reassurance. As I looked up from writing in my journal, a group of misty clouds converged to form an opaque mass. But the inexorable sun demonstrated her tenacity. One by one, golden arrows pierced the celestial canopy to illuminate the lush, green valley between Yad Vashem and the hills of western Jerusalem. I could feel holiness in those rays of golden light that radiated from the
sun like spokes of a heavenly wheel.
That moment was one of the most spiritual of my life. The natural grandeur of the sight seemed to bring together the most meaningful experiences of my five weeks in Israel: watching the sunrise over the Red Sea, wading chest-deep through a
stream in the Golan Heights, looking up at the myriad stars in the desert sky, exploring a cave in Negev, and climbing the limestone precipice of Masada. These natural temples far surpassed any limestone sanctuary built by man.
Shifting my gaze downwards, I noticed Ofir standing beside me with his eyes fixed on the sacred valley. At age twenty-five, his head was already balding, but the expression on his face, with his eyes stretched wide and his jaws parted, reminded
me of a child starting with delight at a fish in an aquarium. For over a minute neither
of us spoke. That poignant silence said more than a thousand words could ever
express.
Being an empirical person, I need confirmation, to prove to myself that I
understood.
Finally, I said to Ofir, "This is holiness." His weapon bounced as he swiveled to look me in the eye. As he nodded in affirmation, a beam of light transcended his pupils to produce a telling spark of corroboration.
Emerson said in "Nature," "The sun illuminates only the eye of man, but shines into the eye and heart of the child." I carried an L. L. Bean backpack, and Ofir carried an Uzi, but that afternoon as the sun warmed our hearts, we were both children.
ANALYSIS
The topic of this essay works well because it conveys the author's personal growth
from an experience unique to most American students. His declaration of his
decision to leave the atmosphere of his boarding school to travel abroad establishes him as a student willing to broaden his horizons and venture to the unknown. The
initial comparison of Israel to his hometown is thoughtfully phrased and expresses
his honest feelings.
The author is extremely concise in this essay, describing everything that is
necessary and leaving out unnecessary details. His personal voice is evident. Rather than give plain descriptions of the places he visited, the author recalls his personal
reaction to seeing such places, therefore allowing the reader to get to know the writer's own perspective.
The dialogue in this essay is also succinct, but complete. The author integrates other
voices in his essay because those voices are part of his experience abroad. Finally,
the closing quote from Emerson's "Nature" is well used and ties together with the
poignant imagery of the contrasting L. L. Bean backpack and Uzi, leaving the reader
with a vision of what the writer experienced.
To Soar, Free
"To Soar, Free"
--by Vanessa G. Henke
A cold, blustery winter storm swept my grandparents and I into the warmth of my aunt's living room, where she was hosting her traditional Christmas Eve party. My hat and cape were taken from me, revealing the Victorian party dress, which had been designed and painstakingly tailored just for me. The music lifted me, and chills surged through my body. I was enthralled, ecstatic with the power of the orchestra.
My excitement mounted as I realized that, for a few brief moments, the audience at
the opening night of The Nutcracker at New York City's Lincoln Center was focusing on my performance. At nine years old, this was my long-awaited debut. Any vestige
of uncertainty about my performance had dissipated. I was transformed from a shy
young girl into a confident performer.
Over the years, as my technique improved and I spent increasing amounts of time
each week practicing and performing, I learned to value the discipline required of a
professional. Without so many hours dedicated to practice, I would never have been
able to execute powerful leaps across the stage in performance. In class, or on stage,
the music would pulse through every fiber of my being, my body resonating to every
note of the score. I discovered that discipline and dedication gave me the confidence
necessary for me to refine my technique and style, and to fulfill my potential and
dream – to dance like another instrument in the orchestra.
This past summer, I taught ballet and choreographed dance at Buck's Rock Camp for
the Creative and Performing Arts. There, I discovered that fulfillment can come not only from soaring across the stage, but by communicating what I have learned to
others. I emulated the good techniques of my best teachers, so that my students could find pleasure in dance. For my more advanced students, I offered
well-deserved praise and helped them to refine their skills. For students with less
experience, I tried to foster self-confidence and create an environment in which
they could learn, ask questions and make mistakes without feeling ashamed. The
rewards for my efforts were the students' improved self-confidence and skills.
The discipline I learned during my five years with the New York City Ballet helped me
understand that with freedom comes responsibility. When I performed at Lincoln
Center, I danced across the stage, free, because of the hours of preparation and thoughtful consideration I put into planning classes and rehearsals, inspiring students to be their best. I now have a greater appreciation for the value of my
experiences as a performer, I am a more fulfilled person and I feel confident and
enthusiastic about future endeavors. I will continue to soar, free.
ANALYSIS
In her essay, the author of "To Soar, Free" demonstrates an understanding that if an essay about a "significant experience or achievement" is to be successful, it must
distinguish itself from a pack of surely similar essay topics. Although the author's chosen topic is not all that different than writing about playing sports or performing
other types of art, this essay stands out. The author gracefully highlights the
personal importance of performing and teaching ballet, using her progression in the
art to reflect her personal and physical growth. Beginning with a childhood memory
about her first ballet performance, the author begins to paint a picture for the reader
of just how dance has influenced her life. From there, the reader gets a sense of the increasing significance of this activity, to the point where he or she learns that this
love for ballet has inspired the author to instruct others in her art form. In her final paragraph, the essayist closes with general conclusions about the lessons she learned through dance.
By beginning her passage with an anecdote about her first major ballet performance, the author distances her piece from a more straightforward "what-dancing-means-to-me" essay. Instead of spelling out the reasoning behind her love of ballet, the author encourages the reader to continue reading. Not until the end of the fourth sentence does he or she know what exactly has been causing
the chills and excitement that the author illustrates so well in the opening sentences. With a setting firmly established, the author is then free to proceed with her
narrative. The reader observes the author's love of dance grew more intense as she
got older and became more serious about this activity. Moreover, in the third
paragraph, the author introduces an interesting twist to the essay, as she chronicles
her experiences on the other side of dance, as a ballet teacher at a summer camp. This complication works well at illuminating the way in which the author learns to see that ballet can offer more fulfillment than just that from the thrill of performance.
Although this essay is effective at highlighting the many ways in which ballet has affected the author's life, it lacks flow and does not efficiently link its varied points and ideas. The connection between the second and third paragraphs is especially abrupt. This spot is an ideal juncture to suggest the many ways in which dance –
aside from its direct performance and practice – has influenced her life. Especially in essays about significant personal experiences or achievements, it is extremely
important to make effective use of transitional phrases and words to connect the individual points with the overall theme. Be that as it may, after compiling a solid essay with unique perspectives and dimensions, the author subtracts from her piece
by offering clichéd conclusions in the final paragraph that are easy to incorporate
into any essay of this form. The challenge is to identify and highlight conclusions
unique to the situation.
--by Vanessa G. Henke
A cold, blustery winter storm swept my grandparents and I into the warmth of my aunt's living room, where she was hosting her traditional Christmas Eve party. My hat and cape were taken from me, revealing the Victorian party dress, which had been designed and painstakingly tailored just for me. The music lifted me, and chills surged through my body. I was enthralled, ecstatic with the power of the orchestra.
My excitement mounted as I realized that, for a few brief moments, the audience at
the opening night of The Nutcracker at New York City's Lincoln Center was focusing on my performance. At nine years old, this was my long-awaited debut. Any vestige
of uncertainty about my performance had dissipated. I was transformed from a shy
young girl into a confident performer.
Over the years, as my technique improved and I spent increasing amounts of time
each week practicing and performing, I learned to value the discipline required of a
professional. Without so many hours dedicated to practice, I would never have been
able to execute powerful leaps across the stage in performance. In class, or on stage,
the music would pulse through every fiber of my being, my body resonating to every
note of the score. I discovered that discipline and dedication gave me the confidence
necessary for me to refine my technique and style, and to fulfill my potential and
dream – to dance like another instrument in the orchestra.
This past summer, I taught ballet and choreographed dance at Buck's Rock Camp for
the Creative and Performing Arts. There, I discovered that fulfillment can come not only from soaring across the stage, but by communicating what I have learned to
others. I emulated the good techniques of my best teachers, so that my students could find pleasure in dance. For my more advanced students, I offered
well-deserved praise and helped them to refine their skills. For students with less
experience, I tried to foster self-confidence and create an environment in which
they could learn, ask questions and make mistakes without feeling ashamed. The
rewards for my efforts were the students' improved self-confidence and skills.
The discipline I learned during my five years with the New York City Ballet helped me
understand that with freedom comes responsibility. When I performed at Lincoln
Center, I danced across the stage, free, because of the hours of preparation and thoughtful consideration I put into planning classes and rehearsals, inspiring students to be their best. I now have a greater appreciation for the value of my
experiences as a performer, I am a more fulfilled person and I feel confident and
enthusiastic about future endeavors. I will continue to soar, free.
ANALYSIS
In her essay, the author of "To Soar, Free" demonstrates an understanding that if an essay about a "significant experience or achievement" is to be successful, it must
distinguish itself from a pack of surely similar essay topics. Although the author's chosen topic is not all that different than writing about playing sports or performing
other types of art, this essay stands out. The author gracefully highlights the
personal importance of performing and teaching ballet, using her progression in the
art to reflect her personal and physical growth. Beginning with a childhood memory
about her first ballet performance, the author begins to paint a picture for the reader
of just how dance has influenced her life. From there, the reader gets a sense of the increasing significance of this activity, to the point where he or she learns that this
love for ballet has inspired the author to instruct others in her art form. In her final paragraph, the essayist closes with general conclusions about the lessons she learned through dance.
By beginning her passage with an anecdote about her first major ballet performance, the author distances her piece from a more straightforward "what-dancing-means-to-me" essay. Instead of spelling out the reasoning behind her love of ballet, the author encourages the reader to continue reading. Not until the end of the fourth sentence does he or she know what exactly has been causing
the chills and excitement that the author illustrates so well in the opening sentences. With a setting firmly established, the author is then free to proceed with her
narrative. The reader observes the author's love of dance grew more intense as she
got older and became more serious about this activity. Moreover, in the third
paragraph, the author introduces an interesting twist to the essay, as she chronicles
her experiences on the other side of dance, as a ballet teacher at a summer camp. This complication works well at illuminating the way in which the author learns to see that ballet can offer more fulfillment than just that from the thrill of performance.
Although this essay is effective at highlighting the many ways in which ballet has affected the author's life, it lacks flow and does not efficiently link its varied points and ideas. The connection between the second and third paragraphs is especially abrupt. This spot is an ideal juncture to suggest the many ways in which dance –
aside from its direct performance and practice – has influenced her life. Especially in essays about significant personal experiences or achievements, it is extremely
important to make effective use of transitional phrases and words to connect the individual points with the overall theme. Be that as it may, after compiling a solid essay with unique perspectives and dimensions, the author subtracts from her piece
by offering clichéd conclusions in the final paragraph that are easy to incorporate
into any essay of this form. The challenge is to identify and highlight conclusions
unique to the situation.
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