Hometown: Pittsford, New York, US

High School: Public school, 250 students in graduating class

Ethnicity: White

Gender: Male

GPA: 96.22 out of 100

SAT: Reading 800, Math 760, Writing 770

ACT: 35

SAT Subject Tests Taken: Mathematics Level 1, Mathematics Level 2, Chemistry, U.S. History, World History

Extracurriculars: Model United Nations Secretary General, Quiz Bowl president, varsity tennis, Political Advocates president, National Honor Society secretary

Awards: National AP Scholar, National Merit Scholar, Frederick Douglass and Susan B. Anthony Award, NY Regents Scholarship, National Latin Exam Summa Cum Laude (4 consecutive years)

Major: Applied Math

Sample college application essay

0x=0.

This expression of mathematical mockery tells me that I know nothing; ambiguity pervades my world.

But I want to change that—by understanding everything.

I grant you, this is ambitious. But two summers ago I encountered economics. The study of decisions, economics empowers me to dissect situations like this: Yesterday I resolved to buy a binder (in addition to universal understanding, I burn for office supplies). After pacing the aisles of Staples for an embarrassingly long time, I whittled my options down to one blue and one red 3-inch Mead Five Star, identical in all but color. But, for whatever reason, the blue binder cost a dollar more. I bought it.

Irrational? I think not. Although not founded on binder functionality, my purchase would merit Spock’s blessing because I assessed the marginal benefit of blueness as exceeding the marginal cost of $1. But if I’d pay a buck for blue, how about two? Three? I could find out by raising the blue binder’s price until it isn’t worth the extra charge— then I buy the red binder and spend my savings on a blue pen. With economics, I can measure anything.

Alas, understanding decisions isn’t as easy as cataloging the value of everything to everyone, for we not only value the same factors differently, but also consult entirely disparate factors when making decisions. Other binder buyers may not just value color less than I do; they may not consider it at all.

Although well stocked in the confidence department, I concede that I, too, neglect relevant factors. So I’m irrational. Big whoop. But just as I cannot erect sturdy architecture from bendy straws (as calamitous collapses at Denny’s have proved), I cannot construct a definable system from my irrational mind. My pantheon of omnipotence is starting to look more like a teepee.

I appeal to neuroscience for order. Armed with the study of mental processes, perhaps I can differentiate between factors I consider and ignore. But this is like knowing the verdict without knowing the law, the underlying scheme. To expose the system that delivers every judgment, I must know why I attended to some factors and not others.

I petition psychology for inspiration. Experience could condition me to jettison the trivial to focus on the essential. This seems reasonable. If I am equally competent with Staples and Office Depot binders, I won’t consider that when making my purchase. But how do I quantify the influence of my past?

I implore mathematics for a solution. Or perhaps computer science could better cipher the code of humankind. Or has history guarded the truth all along?

It may be all of the above! Can a neuroscience-inspired computer use economic models for decision theory, tweaked with mathematically rendered psychoanalytic principles, to map my brain by analyzing past decisions? Can I solve my brain as an infinite system of variables with each past decision as an equation that brings me a step closer to isolating the unknowns? Can I then peer into history with complete comprehension? Can I apply the same method to the future? Can I know the future?

I don’t see why not. But let’s leave Doc and Marty McFly and briefly revisit the present.

My world exists in chaos. It is a puzzle whose pieces are strewn across the floor, awaiting assembly. So every morning I open my books and battle for knowledge, assaulting the palisades of ambiguity so that one night when I close my books I will see the world as I see economics—I will understand.

REVIEW

Dylan’s essay uncovers his desire to understand everything. What makes it memorable is the moment at Staples when Dylan struggled to decide which binder to buy. Dylan was able to discuss how his economics education changed his way of thinking within this anecdote. It is also very well-structured; each paragraph further exemplifies the writer’s curiosity and thirst for knowledge—one little situation in Staples compels him to wonder how he can understand the whole of history. This style allows the essay to build momentum, and Dylan successfully maintains it until the end.

This essay could have benefitted from jumping straight into the Staples scene. Readers tend to be more interested in something they can visualize and connect with. Fortunately, Dylan includes this scene close to the start of the essay to offset the mathematical jargon of the first lines. He also succeeds by peppering humorous thoughts and pop culture references in parentheses throughout the essay, which prevents the tone from being pretentious.

The final paragraph is a meaningful rumination on the rhetorical questions Dylan asks throughout the essay. It fully establishes the writer as a curious discoverer who is forever in pursuit of knowledge.

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.