Just Keep Swimming - Harvard - Free example college personal statement
Hometown: Bronx, New York, USA
High School: Private school, 189 students in graduating class
Ethnicity: Asian
Gender: Female
GPA: 3.95 out of 4.0
SAT: n/a
ACT: 35
SAT Subject Tests Taken: Mathematics Level 2, Biology E/M, Chemistry
Extracurriculars: Editor in chief of 3 publications, theater company vice president, organizer of school play festival, editor/cartoonist for newspaper
Awards: University of Pennsylvania Book Award, AP Scholar, National Merit semifinalist, school-wide critical personal essay awards
Major: Undecided
Free example college personal statement
Editor’s Note: Names in this essay have been redacted for privacy.
Once there was a girl who looked within, found divine peace in her soul, and also had great legs. I am not this girl. I am the girl who discovered herself when she became a human sperm cell. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It was a dark and stormy night, and I was pissed. I was also stooped over a birthday candle, cramming pages of lines for my role in Rosen- crantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, an existential behind-the-scenes journey of two obscure characters from Hamlet. It’s an “absurdist tragicomedy,” much like that evening in the midst of Hurricane Sandy.
I had a week off from school to fully embody Rosencrantz. Or Guildenstern? This was half of the problem: “Roz” and “Guil” are so identical that even they forget who they are. Which led to the other half of the problem: D——, my onstage counterpart. Except, he wasn’t the issue. I was. See, D—— and I were supposed to be interchangeable, and as a pale male, he looked the part. As an Asian girl, I did not.
I’d often been the only cast member “of color” in shows written for white actors, and I’d taught myself to forget that an audience rarely saw past my alienating physiognomy. But this show was different. During each rehearsal, I asked myself, “Who should I be?” I should be D——, Rosencrantz, or Guildenstern, but certainly not me. My character’s basic identity clashed with my own; I wasn’t just out of place, I was wrong.
Still, I didn’t want anyone’s pity, so when D—— offered to run lines, I shut the door on him. Literally. “Are you kidding me? I drove for an hour just to get here!” he said, barely audible through Sandy’s howling winds and the sturdy oak of my front door. Nevertheless, in the spirit of October, the month of Columbus Day, I let the white man enter my home. The white man ate all my Triscuits.
I went to the next rehearsal despondent; my study of the white man had left me hungrier and less self-assured than ever. What happened then was destiny. Destiny in the form of a cocoon-like cape and oval-shaped hat, both made of rigid, shiny white vinyl. Our costumes were meant to resemble chess pawns (symbolizing our place in Hamlet’s political game), but it didn’t matter one bit. The moment I saw that sperm suit, I felt a strange tingling in my gut. At first, I thought it was indigestion, but then I realized: It was true love.
I tried it on, consummating our union. It was very meta. The hat itched and the cape squeaked, but my love knew no bounds. I gazed in the mirror, admiring my transformation into a haploid cell. Then I laughed and laughed.
On average, 280 million human sperm compete to fertilize an egg—odds that put even college admissions to shame. One sperm’s life may seem pointless, but en masse, those cells are responsible for all of human evolution. And that’s because a sperm doesn’t weigh its chances; it dives headfirst into the unknown. To live without fear, to have confidence in my convictions, and to not worry one bit about how others viewed me: I wanted to be like that.
I burst onto center stage. We were pressed for time, but I couldn’t hold back; for the first time in a while, I knew exactly who I was. I vigorously spread the good word as my costume gleamed under the spotlights, reflecting my newfound enlightenment. The director gaped, then barked, “What the hell?!”
I was momentarily crushed, but then I remembered: I’m a sperm, and a sperm doesn’t quit! To this day, I keep that mantra close to my heart. Here’s the moral of the story, the crux of the tale: If you’re swimming upstream, and it all seems for naught, don’t lose hope, just give it all you’ve got!
REVIEW
This essay starts off creatively to clearly define Allison’s sarcastic, humorous, and honest voice. Allison writes about her ability to persevere through her anecdote of a play and a wonderfully crafted analogy of herself as a sperm. The introduction of this analogy is at first strange, but upon closer examination, it is quite clever; Allison brings the entire essay around to finally hit on the lesson she learned and showcase her personality.
The central idea of her essay tells something about Allison that can be seen nowhere else in the Common Application. She discusses her previous experience of striving forward by detailing her involvement in a play. Her carefully crafted diction and vivid imagery propels this piece forward.
What makes this essay even stronger is Allison’s style of writing. She diligently switches between long and short sentences that serve to highlight her point, idea, and situation. There is a perfect balance of detailed description and pithy statements. Ultimately, Allison’s essay makes the audience eager to read onward to know her story, thoughts, and aspirations. The essay begins, continues, and ends elegantly and beautifully.
From 50 Successful Harvard Application Essays, 5th Edition edited by the Staff of the Harvard Crimson. Copyright (c) 2017 by the authors and reprinted by permission of St. Martin's Publishing Group.
