When he sent the final draft of his winning college admissions essay to me, Julian confirmed my sense that good things are possible. I never know if the draft I give a standing ovation is definitely the one the student has submitted (2AM last minute changes are not unthinkable). But I was glad to see this one was. Natural Talent Julian has natural writing talent which sometimes makes it even harder for a student to figure out what belongs in their admissions essays, because so much of draft is already of strong quality. Julian faced this in his capacity to entertain the reader and find dark humor in his experience. Where to stop? What needed to be said, versus just sounded good on the page? Ultimately, he was able to cut based on what aspect of his present self he most wanted to highlight and explain. I hope you enjoy his essay as much as I (and seemingly everyone on the admissions committees) did. Julian wrote: I'm proud to tell you that I have committed to Princeton! I actually got into roughly 90% of my top choices including Dartmouth, Columbia, USC, UCLA, Berkeley, Swarthmore, University of Notre Dame, UCSD and UCSB , and a few others. Julian Jimenez, Personal statement (Princeton Class of 2024) Here comes Satanás. Behold his fiery, mischievous, defiant glory. Watch him terrorize the innocent victims...of his first grade classroom. Bored, he pinballs around the room, stopping only to implement his conniving get-out-of-school-quick strategy: rubbing his eyes bloodshot, then duping the school nurse into believing he has pink eye. Every day, after his parents spoke to another irritated teacher, he was met with a disappointed, "Aquí viene Satanás!" (Here comes Satan!) Was it his fault, though? I was born to 16-year-old parents, kicked out of their homes for having me. My first memory consists of my mother silently sobbing while pushing my stroller along dark sidewalks late at night. I wondered why she Continue Reading …
sample essay
Sample student essay– Too Muslim for Violence
Student Sample Essay-- Start Them Writing Young The following sample personal essay, “Too Muslim for Violence” was written by Mohamed, my 7th grade student at The TEAK Fellowship. I am proud to share it with you here-- he has exploded into his voice over only 8 weeks in my class, and he has a message for us about individuality and peace. If you think you don't need to hear it, you're probably wrong. It's never too young to start them writing about what they see in the world, and who they might be. ** "Too Muslim for Violence" Al Salam Alaikum my brothers and sisters. Let’s start by defining that phrase. The phrase itself means peace be upon you. As Muslims, we greet each other with peace. It seems ironic that many people view us Muslims as terrorists, murderers, kidnappers, or basically any other negative role a human being can play. We greet each other with peace - where could the violence come from? I turn left and right on a cool Monday morning in my school uniform. Ready to learn and ready to see my friends, but definitely not ready for what was to come. As I read the news, my heart skipped a beat. A terrorist attack. Another terrorist attack. I was praying to God that it wasn't somebody with a Muslim name. Please no Ahmed, no Abdel, and absolutely no one else with the name Mohamed. I sunk down into a deep, deep, dark hole. I shut off my phone right away. By no means was this the first terrorist attack that I read about, but usually I was home. Not knowing what to say or what to do I wondered: Is anybody looking at me? Is anybody talking about me? I couldn’t believe what was on my phone - his name was even worse than I anticipated: Ahmed Muhammed. Two Muslim names but only one person. I just wanted to go back home because I worried my friends would be scared of me since a “Muslim” man blew up a church in Egypt. At that moment I felt like every person was saying, “All these Muslim people are so violent.” The media was successful again in spreading hate Continue Reading …
Keep Developing Your Essay
Why we tell you to keep developing your essay ...even after admissions When Reggie handed me his college essay free-write in the middle of my Essay Intensive writing workshop at JPMorgan's The Fellowship Initiative, I just about fell out of my chair. "I haven't really written about this before," he said offhandedly. "What do you think? Could you tell me if it's good?" Students contextualize their writing this way to me all the time-- regarding everything from compulsory chicken scratch, to sob stories about a low grade on a math test, to Oedipal tales, to wrenching sagas of family illness. But this essay was different. Within a few sentences, a loved one was cruelly dead-- and his real loss was not even months old. Continue Reading …
Sample Essay: What makes a dad?
“He Doesn’t Know Me”: What Makes a Dad? A Personal Essay I got out of the car so that he could find parking. The tension between us was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. My father and I had been at each other’s throats for weeks. I didn’t like the way he treated me and he was sick of hearing me talk about it. Looking at it now, it amuses me that he believed that a pair of sneakers and a trip to Chipotle would make it all better. A part of me wanted to believe that our relationship would improve. That he wouldn’t forget my birthday and that he wouldn’t forget the days that he was supposed to come and visit. But I knew that it wasn’t going to change. One lunch wasn’t going to fix anything. Even though I was 11, I already knew that the damage had become irreversible. We entered Chipotle and I immediately smelled the aroma of guacamole. It was particularly busy and there was almost nowhere to sit. There was a sense of joy in the room, something that didn’t exist between me and my father. I walked over to the only empty table, while he ordered our food. There was a small puddle of hot sauce left by the last customer who didn’t have the decency to clean it up. I took a brown napkin from the dispenser and wiped it away, restoring the table to its shiny, silver condition. He walked over with a blank expression on his face as he placed our food on the table. I said, “Thank you,” but there was no response. My father stared at me from across the circular metal table with his cold dark brown eyes. The light bounced off the middle of his sweaty, bald caramel-colored head. Part of his chest tattoo was visible through his white t-shirt. He scratched his stubble before beginning to unwrap his burrito. We ate in silence for about five minutes until he got bored and decided to stir the pot. “I don’t like your hair that way,” he said in a harsh tone. “Sorry, but it’s not your hair so why does it matter?” I asked. “You are my child and I don’t like your Continue Reading …