Hometown: Paramus, New Jersey, USA

High School: Private all-male parochial school, 178 students in graduating class

Ethnicity: White/Hispanic

Gender: Male

GPA: 106.26 out of 100 (weighted)

SAT: Reading 730, Math 800, Writing 800

ACT: n/a

SAT Subject Tests Taken: Mathematics Level 2, Chemistry, U.S. History

Extracurriculars: Mock Trial Club captain/attorney, chorus baritone leader, Newspaper Club editor in chief, Student Government Association student body vice president, Immaculate Conception HS Theater Lead Actor

Awards: New Jersey Mock Trial State Championship Award, Excellence in English Award, Bergen Catholic High School Alumni Association Scholarship Award, Most Outstanding Soloist Award at Music in the Parks Competition, George Eastman Young Leaders Award

Major: Undecided

College personal statement tips

I learned the definition of cancer at the age of fourteen. I was taking my chapter 7 biology test when I came upon the last question, “What is cancer?”, to which I answered: “The abnormal, unrestricted growth of cells.” After handing in the test, I moved on to chapter 8, oblivious then to how earth-shattering such a disease could be.

I learned the meaning of cancer two years later. A girl named Kiersten came into my family by way of my oldest brother who had fallen in love with her. I distinctly recall her hair catching the sea breeze as she walked with us along the Jersey shore, a blonde wave in my surrounding family’s sea of brunette. Physically, she may have been different, but she redefined what family meant to me. She attended my concerts, went to my award ceremonies, and helped me study for tests. Whenever I needed support, she was there. Little did I know that our roles would be reversed, forever changing my outlook on life.

Kiersten was diagnosed with Stage II Hodgkin’s lymphoma at the age of 22. Tears and hair fell alike after each of her 20 rounds of chemotherapy as we feared the worst. It was an unbearable tragedy— watching someone so vivacious skirt the line between life and death. Her cancer was later classified as refractory, or resistant to treatment. Frustration and despair flooded my mind as I heard this news. And so I prayed. In what universe did this dynamic make any sense? I prayed to God and to even her cancer itself to just leave her alone. Eventually, Kiersten was able to leave the hospital to stay for six weeks at my home.

My family and I transformed the house into an antimicrobial sanctuary, protecting Kiersten from any outside illness. I watched TV with her, baked cookies for her, and observed her persistence as she regained strength and achieved remission. We beat biology, time, and death, all at the same time, with cookies, TV, and friendship. Yet I was so concerned with helping Kiersten that I had not realized how she helped me during her battle with cancer.

I had been so used to solving my problems intellectually that when it came time to emotionally support someone, I was afraid. I could define cancer, but what do I say to someone with it? There were days where I did not think I could be optimistic in the face of such adversity. But the beauty that resulted from sympathizing as opposed to analyzing and putting aside my own worries and troubles for someone else was an enormous epiphany for me. My problems dissipated into thin air the moment I came home and dropped my books and bags to talk with Kiersten. The more I talked, laughed, smiled, and shared memories with her, the more I began to realize all that she had taught me. She influenced me in the fact that she demonstrated the power of loyalty, companionship, and optimism in the face of desperate, life- threatening situations. She showed me the importance of loving to live and living to love. Most of all, she gave me the insight necessary to fully help others not just with intellect and preparation, but with solidarity and compassion. In this way, I became able to help myself and others with not only my brain, but with my heart. And that, in the words of Robert Frost, “has made all the difference.”

REVIEW

The strength of this essay comes from the contrast the author sets up in the first two paragraphs. Starting with “I learned the definition of cancer” and then concluding with “I learned the meaning of can- cer” establishes that the author is capable of a neat form of introspection that is often ignored: understanding the difference between a word’s linguistic function and its various connotations.

From there, the author takes the reader on a tale about a completely different individual—his brother’s girlfriend. At first, this is somewhat of a jarring shift, especially considering the specific imagery the author conjures, phrases that often signal an infatuation rather than a platonic relationship. But his tale of Kiersten’s battle with cancer makes the reader realize that his relationship is a testament to his ability to sympathize deeply with someone not necessarily confined in the traditional scope of “a family.” That alone is a poignant vignette into the author’s life, but he drives the point home in the concluding paragraphs by presenting a summary of how the experience impacted his character. The summary itself is notably devoid of platitudes, besides the final two lines. That sort of genuine introspection is endearing to a reader, and presents an almost unfiltered glimpse into the underlying “themes” of his character, which is exactly what an admissions counselor is looking for in an application essay.

The only advice we have for the author: stray away from using so many paired buzz phrases like “intellect and preparation, solidarity and compassion” because it somewhat detracts from the genuineness of the story.

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.