Please select from the
following sample application essays:
Sample Essay One: Princeton
Sample Essay Two: Harvard
Sample Essay Three:
Princeton
Sample Essay Four: Brown
Note: The below essays
were not edited by EssayEdge Editors.
They appear as they were initially reviewed
by admissions officers.
SAMPLE ESSAY 1: Princeton,
Athlete (football)
I have learned a great
many things from participating in varsity
football. It has changed my entire outlook
on and attitude toward life. Before
my freshman year at [high-school], I
was shy, had low self-esteem and turned
away from seemingly impossible challenges.
Football has altered all of these qualities.
On the first day of freshman practice,
the team warmed up with a game of touch
football. The players were split up
and the game began. However, during
the game, I noticed that I didn’t run
as hard as I could, nor did I try to
evade my defender and get open. The
fact of the matter is that I really
did not want to be thrown the ball.
I didn’t want to be the one at fault
if I dropped the ball and the play didn’t
succeed. I did not want the responsibility
of helping the team because I was too
afraid of making a mistake. That aspect
of my character led the first years
of my high school life. I refrained
from asking questions in class, afraid
they might be considered too stupid
or dumb by my classmates. All the while,
I went to practice and everyday, I went
home physically and mentally exhausted.
Yet my apprehension prevailed
as I continued to fear getting put in
the game in case another player was
injured. I was still afraid of making
mistakes and getting blamed by screaming
coaches and angry teammates. Sometimes
these fears came true. During my sophomore
season, my position at backup guard
led me to play in the varsity games
on many occasions. On such occasions,
I often made mistakes. Most of the time
the mistakes were not significant; they
rarely changed the outcome of a play.
Yet I received a thorough verbal lashing
at practice for the mistakes I had made.
These occurrences only compounded my
fears of playing. However, I did not
always make mistakes. Sometimes I made
great plays, for which I was congratulated.
Now, as I dawn on my senior year of
football and am faced with two starting
positions, I feel like a changed person.
Over the years, playing
football has taught me what it takes
to succeed. From months of tough practices,
I have gained a hard work ethic. From
my coaches and fellow teammates, I have
learned to work well with others in
a group, as it is necessary to cooperate
with teammates on the playing field.
But most important, I have also gained
self-confidence. If I fail, it doesn’t
matter if they mock or ridicule me;
I’ll just try again and do it better.
I realize that it is necessary to risk
failure in order to gain success. The
coaches have always said before games
that nothing is impossible; I know that
now. Now, I welcome the challenge. Whether
I succeed or fail is irrelevant; it
is only important that I have tried
and tested myself.
COMMENTS:
The topic of this essay
is how the applicant has matured and
changed since his freshman year. He
focuses on football. One of the strengths
of this essay is that it is well organized.
The applicant clearly put time into
the structure and planning of this essay.
He uses the platform of football to
discuss and demonstrate his personal
growth and development through the high
school years. What he could have done
better was spend more time describing
himself after he made improvements.
As it is, he only tells us about his
newfound confidence and drive. This
essay would have been stronger had he
actually shown us, perhaps by including
a story or describing an event where
his confidence made a difference.
SAMPLE ESSAY 2: Harvard,
international experience: Living in
Switzerland
“Je deteste des Americains,”
said the old Swiss woman sitting across
from me. Her face contorted into a grimace
of disgust as she and her friend continued
to complain that Americans had no culture,
that they never learned another language,
and that their inferior customs were
spreading throughout Europe like an
infectious disease. Each hair on the
back of my neck sprang to attention,
as I strained to hear the women’s inflammatory
remarks. I gripped my bag of McDonald’s
harder with each insulting phrase.
I had been living in Geneva,
Switzerland for four years, during which
time I had attended an international
school consisting of over 96 different
nationalities. I had already become
fluent in French and had become accustomed
to the new culture in which I was living-a
culture which I had believed to be rich
in tolerance and acceptance. Naturally,
the women’s remarks hurt. Was I really
an “ugly American?” Did I have no appreciation
of anything other than McDonald’s or
Coca-Cola? Had I not been touched by
the new world I had been exposed to?
Without question, my four
years in Switzerland changed my life
in countless ways. From the minute I
stepped off the plane at Cointrin Airport,
the vastly different sights along the
clean street, the ubiquitous smells
of rich delicious French cuisine, and
my feelings of excitement about my new
surroundings told me that I definitely
was “not in Kansas anymore.” My school
helped greatly in modifying my attitudes,
as for the first time I was with peers
from countries which I had only read
about. Although it was sometimes difficult
trying to find links between my self
and my Saudi Arabian, Hungarian, French,
Nigerian, or Chilean friends, I soon
came to enjoy my new stir fry environment.
By the time I left, I was wondering
how I ever could survive the boredom
of attending a homogeneous institution.
This is not to say that, prior to this,
I had been closed up in a bland box
of a world. I had traveled to India,
my father’s home, and England, my mother’s
home, annually: a practice my family
and I continue to this day. I had been
brought up without specific religious
beliefs, but an awareness of my parents’
spiritual backgrounds of Judaism and
Hinduism. Thus my exposure to these
various different nationalities in Switzerland
built on my found-ations of cultural
awareness, rather than laying the cornerstone
for it.
My understanding of my
new environment was aided tremendously
by my ability to speak French, and was
subsequently one of the best gifts I
brought back from my four year stay
in Switzerland. An entire year of school
lessons could not have taught me as
much of the language as I learned form
speaking with my Swiss friends, shopping
in the local stores, or apologizing
to my neighbors for hitting my ball
into their yard. My proficiency in French
earned me a regular spot on a nationally
broadcast Swiss radio program, in which
a Russian child and I discussed tensions
between major world powers. This was
a rare opportunity, as, although Stephen
and I were peers, the fact that Russian
children attended the Soviet Embassy
school meant that we were not classmates.
Though, even if we had been allowed
to speak casually before, I am not certain
that our conversation would have reached
the depth of discussion we achieved
on the show.
America will never again
seem the same to me. Geneva gave me
enough distance to look at my country
through objective eyes. Traveling throughout
Europe was like a trip with Gulliver:
it gave me the ability to look inside
myself and discern my country’s faults
as well as its numerous strengths. Like
the Swiss women’s remarks, it hurt me
to find that the United States is not
the only country in the world with a
rich and stimulating environment. With
my new perspective, I saw that America
was not what it had been. Then I thought
for a moment and realized that America
had not changed, but I had.
COMMENTS:
One officer called this,
“A good example of a foreign culture
essay that works.” The only negative
comments about this essay came from
one officer who found the conclusion
to be a bit weak. “I would like to see
her elaborate a little more in the last
paragraph. This is because in most of
her classes, she will be required to
support any opinions.” Another agreed
that she could have kept her final points
more personal and specific.
The writing is excellent.
The vocabulary is sophisticated
without seeming labored. I do not suspect
that the author had a thesaurus at hand!
This tells me that she/he would certainly
be successful academically, at least
in the courses that require strong communication
and analytical abilities.
This essay is very well
written. The writer demonstrates a refreshing
maturity that seems to come from his/her
abroad experience. The essay demonstrates
a transformation of the student from
just an American in a foreign land to
someone who embraces the international
experience and grew with it.
What I like about this
essay is that it shows that the traditional
categories of “extracurricular activities”
need not be the only way to demonstrate
that one has something of interest to
bring to the college experience. I think
this writer would be a fascinating person
to get to know, because she would be
able to contribute a fresh perspective
to conversations about many of the important
ideas that we wrestle with in college.
She might well be someone who would
be especially adept at bringing together
diverse members of the student body
because she would not feel intimidated
by differences, but would, instead,
seek them out and value them highly.
SAMPLE ESSAY 3: Princeton,
childhood experience: A fishing trip
Reluctantly smearing sunblock
over every exposed inch of my fifty-three
pound body, I prepared mentally for
the arduous task that lay ahead of me.
After several miserable fishing ventures
which had left my skin red and my hook
bare, I felt certain that, at last,
my day had arrived. I stood ready to
clear the first hurdle of manhood, triumph
over fish. At the age of seven, I was
confident that my rugged, strapping
body could conquer any obstacle. Pity
the fish that would become the woeful
object of the first demonstration of
my male prowess.
Engaging me deeply was
my naive eagerness to traverse the chasm
dividing boy from man. In fact, so completely
absorbed was I in my thoughts that the
lengthy journey to our favorite fishing
spot seemed fleeting. The sudden break
in the droning of the engine snapped
me to reality. Abruptly jarred back
into the world, I fumbled for my fishing
pole. Dangling the humble rods end over
the edge of the boat, I released the
bail on the reel and plunked the cheap
plastic lure into the water. Once I
had let out enough line and set the
rod in a holder, I sat back to wait
for an attack on the lure. The low hum
of the motor at trolling speed only
added to my anxiety, like the instrumental
accompaniment to a horror film. And
then it hit. A sharp tug on the line
pulled me to my feet faster than an
electric shock. I bounded to the pole,
and when I reached it, I yanked it out
of the holder with all of my might.
My nervous energy was so potent that
when I tugged on the rod, I nearly plunged
headlong over the side of the boat and
into the fishs domain. Although adrenaline
streamed through my veins, after five
minutes both my unvanquishable strength
and my superhuman will were waning steadily.
Just when I was fully prepared to surrender
to the fish and, with that gesture,
succumb to a life of discontentment,
pain, and sorrow, the fish performed
a miraculous feat. Shocked and instantly
revived, I watched as the mahi-mahi
leapt from the oceans surface. The mahi-mahis
skin gleamed with radiant hues of blue,
green, and yellow in a breathtaking
spray of surf. Brilliant sunlight beamed
upon the spectacle, giving life to a
scene which exploded into a furious
spectrum of color. The exotic fish tumbled
majestically back to the sea amidst
a blast of foam. With this incredible
display, the fish was transformed from
a pitiful victim to a brilliant specimen
of life. I cared no longer for any transcendent
ritual I must perform, but rather, I
longed only for the possession of such
a proud creature. I hungered to touch
such a wonder and share the fantastic
bond that a hunter must feel for his
kill. I needed to have that fish at
any cost.
The fight lasted for only
ten minutes; nevertheless, it was a
ten minutes which I will never forget.
When my fish neared the boat, I felt
more energized than I had when the fish
first struck. At my fathers command,
I netted the fish and hauled it into
the bottom of the boat. I was nearly
bursting with exhilaration.
Released from the net,
the fish dropped to the bottom of the
boat with a hollow thud, and my jaw
dropped with it. I stared in complete
horror at the violently thrashing fish
which was now at my feet. Within minutes,
all of the fishs vibrance, color and
life had vanished. Instead, came blood.
Lots of blood. It sprayed from its mouth.
It sprayed from its gills. Shortly,
the boat was coated with the red life
blood of the mahi-mahi. It now lay twitching
helplessly while it gasped and choked
for oxygen in the dry air. I felt sickened,
disgusted, and utterly lost in heart-wrenching
pity. As I watched the color drain from
the fish, leaving it a morbid pale-yellow,
I realized that I was responsible for
the transformation of a creature of
brilliance and life into a pitiful,
dying beast.
Despite my brothers cheers
and praises, I rode back to shore in
bitter silence. I could not help thinking
about the vast difference between the
magnificent creature which I saw jump
in the sea and the pathetic beast which
I saw gasping for life in the bloody
pit of the boat. What struck me most
forcefully on that day, though, was
the realization that I was no mere bystander
to this desecration. I was the sole
cause. Had I not dropped the hook into
the water, the fish undoubtedly would
still be alive. I, alone, had killed
this fish.
In retrospect, I am relieved
that I reacted in such a way to my passage
from boyhood to manhood. Although my
views about many things, hunting and
fishing included, have changed considerably
since that day, I still retain a powerful
conscience which actively molds my personality.
One cannot dispute the frightening potential
of the human race to induce the permanent
extinction of every life form on the
planet. As the ability to change the
world on a global scale is arguably
limited to one breed of life, so, too,
is the force which impedes instinctual
and conscious action, the human conscience.
My own sense of strong moral principle
reaches far beyond simply averting Armageddon,
however. I often find myself unable
to disregard this force of moral and
social responsibility in whatever I
do. Part of my keen social conscience
is demonstrated in the effort I have
made to be a positive intellectual leader
among my classmates and in the community.
Realizing how lucky I am to have been
born with a high aptitude for learning,
I feel sorry that others who also work
very hard cannot achieve like I have
nor be rewarded with success as I have
been. In a leadership role, I hope to
constructively guide my peers to find
their own success and see the fruition
of their own goals. By serving as class
president for three consecutive years,
as founder, member, and chairman of
the peer counseling society, and as
a peer tutor, I have enabled others
to reach their goals, while finding
personal gratification at the same time.
I am fortunate in that I have been given
the opportunity to optimize the usefulness
of my personal virtues in helping others;
I can only hope to continue heeding
my conscience in work as a research
chemist, or whatever I may do in the
future. It is my right and my obligation,
for I firmly maintain that the charge
of a humanitarian conscience is one
which each person must eternally bear
for the good of humankind and all the
world.
COMMENTS:
“A good example of how
a talented writer can make a standard
topic appealing” was the general consensus.
One officer did think, though, that
the writer got “overzealous” with his
language and could have avoided some
of the more corpulent sentences like,
“Engaging me deeply was my naive eagerness
to traverse the chasm dividing boy from
man,” by writing with a simpler, more
natural voice.
I really enjoyed this essay.
It starts with a wonderful, humorous
touch, but describes vividly and movingly
the young boy’s first experience with
death and with personal responsibility.
In reading this essay,
I get a strong impression of the kind
of person this young man must be, someone
full of good humor, but great sensitivity
as well. His easy way with the language
convinces me that he would be an excellent
student, and a welcome addition to the
class.
This was a nicely written
piece. This student took time to think
about this experience and was able to
articulate his memories of his fishing
adventure rather well. This could have
been another bland essay but the writer
took you on the adventure with him,
from boyhood to manhood.
I like the way he took
his fishing adventure and transitioned
to his life today and how and what he
learned from it.
What I liked most about
the essay was that the writer told of
an experience in his childhood and was
able to take that experience and make
the connection to his life and goals
of today.
SAMPLE ESSAY 4: Brown,
achievement: Martial arts competition
A faint twinge of excitement
floated through my body that night.
A hint of anticipation of the coming
day could not be suppressed; yet to
be overcome with anxiety would not do
at all. I arduously forced those pernicious
thoughts from seeping in and overcoming
my body and mind. I still wonder that
I slept at all that night.
But I did. I slept soundly
and comfortably as those nervous deliberations
crept into my defenseless, unsuspecting
mind, pilfering my calm composure. When
I awoke refreshed, I found my mind swarming
with jumbled exhilaration. The adrenaline
was flowing already.
After a quick breakfast,
I pulled some of my gear together and
headed out. The car ride of two hours
seemed only a few moments as I struggled
to reinstate order in my chaotic consciousness
and focus my mind on the day before
me. My thoughts drifted to the indistinct
shadows of my memory.
My opponent’s name was
John Doe. There were other competitors
at the tournament, but they had never
posed any threat to my title. For as
long as I had competed in this tournament,
I had easily taken the black belt championship
in my division. John, however, was the
most phenomenal martial artist I had
ever had the honor of witnessing at
my young age of thirteen. And he was
in my division. Although he was the
same rank, age, size, and weight as
I, he surpassed me in almost every aspect
of our training. His feet were lightning,
and his hands were virtually invisible
in their agile swiftness. He wielded
the power of a bear while appearing
no larger than I. His form and techniques
were executed with near perfection.
Although I had never defeated his flawlessness
before, victory did not seem unattainable.
For even though he was extraordinary,
he was not much more talented than I.
I am not saying that he was not skilled
or even that he was not more skilled
than I, for he most certainly was, but
just not much more than I. I still had
one hope, however little, of vanquishing
this incredible adversary, for John
had one weakness: he was lazy. He didn’t
enjoy practicing long hours or working
hard. He didn’t have to. Nevertheless,
I had found my passage to triumph.
My mind raced even farther
back to all my other failures. I must
admit that my record was not very impressive.
Never before had I completed anything.
I played soccer. I quit. I was a Cub
Scout. I quit. I played trumpet. I quit.
Karate was all I had left. The championship
meant so much because I had never persevered
with anything else.
In the last months, I had
trained with unearthly stamina and determination.
I had focused all my energies into practicing
for this sole aspiration. Every day
of the week I trained. Every evening,
I could be found kicking, blocking,
and punching at an imaginary opponent
in my room. Hours of constant drilling
had improved my techniques and speed.
All my techniques were ingrained to
the point where they were instinctive.
Days and weeks passed too swiftly. .
. .
I was abruptly jolted back
into the present. The car was pulling
into the parking lot. The tournament
had too quickly arrived, and I still
did not feel prepared for the trial
which I was to confront. I stepped out
of the car into the bright morning sun,
and with my equipment bag in hand, walked
into the towering building.
The day was a blur. After
warming up and stretching, I sat down
on the cold wooden floor, closed my
eyes, and focused. I cleared my mind
of every thought, every worry, and every
insecurity. When I opened my eyes, every
sense and nerve had become sharp and
attentive, every motion finely tuned
and deliberate.
The preliminary rounds
were quiet and painless, and the championship
fight was suddenly before me. I could
see that John looked as calm and as
confident as ever. Adrenaline raced
through my body as I stepped into the
ring. We bowed to each other and to
the instructor, and the match began.
I apologize, but I do not
recall most of the fight. I do faintly
remember that when time ran out the
score was tied, and we were forced to
go into Sudden Death: whoever scored
the next point would win. That, however,
I do recall.
I was tired. The grueling
two points that I had won already had
not been enough. I needed one more before
I could taste triumph. I was determined
to win, though I had little energy remaining.
John appeared unfazed, but I couldn’t
allow him to discourage me. I focused
my entire being, my entire consciousness,
on overcoming this invincible nemesis.
I charged. All my strenuous training,
every molecule in my body, every last
drop of desire was directed, concentrated
on that single purpose as I exploded
through his defenses and drove a solitary
fist to its mark.
I was not aware that I
would never fight John again, but I
would not have cared. Never before had
I held this prize in my hands, but through
pure, salty sweat and vicious determination,
the achievement that I had desired so
dearly and which meant so much to me
was mine at last. This was the first
time that I had ever really made a notable
accomplishment in anything. This one
experience, this one instant, changed
me forever. That day I found self-confidence
and discovered that perseverance yields
its own sweet fruit. That day a sense
of invincibility permeated the air.
Mountains were nothing. The sun wasn’t
so bright and brilliant anymore. For
a moment, I was the best.
COMMENTS:
The admissions officers
admired this essay for its passion and
sincerity. In fact, most of the noted
drawbacks were based on the writer being
too passionate. “Kind of a tempest in
a teapot, don’t you think?” wrote one.
Other suggestions for improvement were
“purely editorial” such as the overuse
of adjectives and adverbs, using a passive
voice, and making contradictory statements.
“For example, he says, ‘I slept soundly
and comfortably as those nervous deliberations
crept into my defenseless, unsuspecting
mind, pilfering my calm composure.’
How could he sleep soundly and comfortably
if the nervous deliberations were pilfering
his calm composure? There are a few
other examples like that that I won’t
go into here. I would just suggest that
the author look carefully to be sure
his ideas stay consistent and support
one another.”
What I like about this
essay from the point of view of an admission
officer is that I am convinced that
the change in attitude described by
the author is real. I do believe that
he will carry with him forever the hard-won
knowledge that he can attain his goals,
that perseverance and hard work will
eventually allow him to succeed in any
endeavor. This is an important quality
to bring to the college experience.
Especially when considering applications
to prestigious institutions, the admission
committee will want to feel sure that
the applicants understand the need for
hard work and perseverance. Many times
the strongest-looking applicants are
students for whom academic success has
come so easily that the challenges of
college come as a shock. I always like
hearing stories like this, of students
who know what it means to struggle and
finally succeed.
From
ESSAYS THAT WILL GET YOU INTO COLLEGE,
by Amy Burnham, Daniel Kaufman, and
Chris Dowhan.
Copyright 1998 by Dan Kaufman.
Reprinted by arrangement with Barron's
Educational Series, Inc.