Hometown: Toronto, Canada

High School: Private school, 119 students in graduating class

Ethnicity: Asian

Gender: Male

GPA: 4.0 out of 4.0

SAT: Reading 750, Math 800, Writing 780

ACT: n/a

SAT Subject Tests Taken: Biology E/M, Chemistry, Spanish

Extracurriculars: Research, Brain Bee, newspaper editorship, varsity baseball, and Positive Mental Health

Awards: Canada’s Top 20 Under 20, International Brain Bee Honors, Sanofi BioGENEius Research Award, UTS School Pin Award and DECA International Honors

Major: Human Developmental and Regenerative Biology

Free sample college personal statement

A loud fart greeted me at the doorway of the ICU suite. Tim, a scrawny child of nine years, was sprawled across the bed, clutching a deflated Whoopee Cushion.

“Excuse you!” he declared, his scolding tone belied by a wide grin.

I threw up my hands apologetically, chuckling. Reaching across the overbed table, I grabbed his chart to update my research notes. Tim had been diagnosed with stage-IV glioblastoma, an aggressive cancer of the brain.

“By the way, I have something for you.” I handed Tim the latest copy of Popular Science. His eyes lit up instantly, beaming as he flipped to the first page.

His reaction was incredibly touching. Despite a bleak prognosis, his playful antics continued to reflect a joie de vivre. The happy-go-lucky joy he embodied was reminiscent of a past that I had mistakenly cast aside.

That night, after entering the final set of data, I fell asleep at the workstation outside Tim’s room. The green-padded hospital chair, redolent of the park benches I once slept on, evoked further nostalgia. When my family immigrated to Canada in 2001, our one-room apartment had not yet been vacated. And although we were not well- off, my fondest memories are of my early childhood. My mother and I used to trek through the cherry blossom trees of High Park en-route to daycare. As we would chase each other around and around, ochre branches towered overhead and petals enveloped us like pink raindrops. We lived by the same mantra as Tim: to cherish every moment, raw and unbridled.

Seven years later, my parents’ painstaking effort allowed me to receive an extraordinary education at UTS. While preparing for my first research internship, I came across my current role model: Dr. Ben Carson, a neurosurgeon whose remarkable discipline elevated him from humble beginnings. To justify my parents’ struggles, I resolved to follow in his footsteps. However, in a race to compete with my exceptional peers, I was blinded by ambition and goals. The curiosity that I once held for learning disappeared, replaced by an infatuation with marks and quantitative validations. On centerfield, I no longer felt the rush and freedom of chasing down a fly ball, consumed instead by the prospect of it meeting the grass.

My experiences in the hospital eventually dispelled this mindset. No matter how intently doctors and nurses persevere against it, death is an unavoidable reality. Patients like Tim are intimately familiar with this inevitability, and so they treasure each second as if it was their last. But do we need to be dying to start appreciating what we have? In the face of limited days, my fears—of judgement, failure, and expectation—become insignificant. If these stubborn clashes with death are ill-fated, then that is all the more reason to enjoy the journey. The connections with patients, each as unique and inspiring as the next, are meaningful remembrances of my time here.

I now celebrate life with a new perspective, enjoying both the periphery and the final destination. My infrequent visits to relatives uptown are becoming monthly cathartic sessions to horrendously belch out karaoke lyrics. My rushed workouts are becoming runs through the natural reserve of the Don Valley. A copy of Borges’s Instantes lies by my nightstand, a morning reminder to savour the day without restraint or reservation. Recently, I opened up about my body dysmorphia and founded the Positive Mental Health Initiative, in hopes of liberating myself and those also suffering silently in my school.

For me, the hospital is much more than a place of healing. It is my muse, a place where seemingly innocuous exchanges revolutionized my values. It is my salvation, a place that has made palpable the beauty and fragility of life. Above all, it is my sanctuary, a place where my doubts became certainty; my myopia, clarity; and my apathy, excitement. Within these sterile walls, I am most human—alive again.

REVIEW

I have often heard “the key to a good essay is personality.” There are few things worse than an essay that reads like a résumé. However, personality needs to be added in a way that is tasteful and subtle. If not, college essays come off like Mad Libs, where the blank spaces call for obscure artists and writers that somehow suggest applicants are fit for college. It is in this effort to strike a perfect balance between genuine and constructed personality that many essays fall apart.

This essay, for the most part, avoids falling into that pit. The author writes about his background in a way that is unique and helps build his persona. But at some moments, the essay sounds a little cliché. For example, the second-to-last paragraph posits that the author’s experience with Michael completely turned his life around, and although this might be true, it can be perceived as a try-hard attempt to sound overly profound and enlightened.

In addition, try to avoid worn-out phrases, such as “joie de vivre” or “happy-go-lucky”—those same emotions can be evoked with other interesting words.

One more point to mention: it is important to assume that your reader knows absolutely nothing about you. Avoid using initials, such as UTS (University of Toronto Schools), and make sure to contextualize as much as necessary without drawing away from the central point of your essay.

Still, despite some clichés, this essay does a fantastic job of sharing the author’s unique experiences and explaining why those experiences are significant.

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.