ivy league essay review

How They Got Into The Ivy League (25 essay examples)

Andrea Schiralli , Jun 09, 2021

Introduction 

If you are even considering applying to an American college, you are well aware that the process is quite laborious. From researching schools, to test prep, to test taking, it is easy to become overwhelmed. Writing a personal statement essay is perhaps the most daunting aspect of the entire college application process. Your test scores may be perfect, your transcript spotless, your activity sheet full of awards and accomplishments, and your recommendation letters may extol your intelligence as well as your virtues, but without impressive essays, all the aforementioned is rendered null.  

Fear not! This ebook presents examples of personal statement essays that got Ivy & Quill clients into Ivy League universities. By perusing these essays, you will understand how to present yourself as the type of student an admissions officer is looking for. You will learn what is expected from your college admissions essays and how you can play upon both your strengths and weaknesses to shape yourself into an ideal candidate for admissions: an introspective, self-aware young man or woman with the ability to grow from the vicissitudes of life. 

Personal Statement 1 

Accepted into: Yale, Dartmouth, Cornell, Columbia, Brown  

The first time that I attended a water ballet performance, I experienced a synesthesia of sorts as I watched the swan-like movements of the swimmers unfold with the cadence and magic of lyrical poetry, the precisely executed sequences melding with the musical accompaniment to create an ethereal beauty that I had never imagined possible. “You belong out there, creating that elegance with them,” I heard the quiet but powerful voice of my intuition tell me. For the next six years, I heeded its advice, training rigorously to master the athletic and artistic underpinnings of synchronized swimming.  

I flailed and plunged with all the grace of an elephant seal during my first few weeks of training. I was quickly and thoroughly disabused of the notion that the poise and control that I so coveted would be easy to obtain. During the first phase of my training, I spent as much time out of the water as in it, occupying myself with Pilates, weight training, and gymnastics in order to build my strength and flexibility. I learned things about the sport that outsiders seldom realize: that performers aren’t allowed to touch the bottom of the pool, relying on an “eggbeater” technique also used by water polo players to stay afloat; that collisions and concussions are all too common; that sometimes the routine demands staying underwater for so long that the lungs burn and the vision becomes hazy. My initial intervals in the water were marked by a floundering feeling that seemed diametrically opposed to the grace that I sought. I began to question whether I was really cut out for the sport.  

I persisted through all of this and slowly but certainly I saw myself progress. My back tucks became tight and fluid, my oyster maneuvers controlled and rhythmical, my water wheels feeling so natural that I could have executed them in my sleep. Moreover, I became comfortable enough with my own role in the water that I was able to expand my awareness to the other members of my team, moving not just synchronistically, but also synergistically. During one of my first major performances, our routine culminated as I launched myself out of the water in a powerful boost, surging upward on the swelling currents of the symphonic accompaniment. I owned the elegant arc that I cut through air and water, my teammates and I executing the leap with the majestic effortlessness of a pod of dolphins frolicking in the sea. I reveled in the thunderous applause at the conclusion of our routine, for it meant that I had helped to create the kind of exquisite beauty that I had so admired years before.  

Though I never would have guessed this at the outset of my training, synchronized swimming has provided one of the central metaphors of my life. The first and most fundamental lesson that I learned was persistence, which I absorbed humbly and viscerally by way of aching muscles and chlorine-stung eyes. More subtly and powerfully, the sport also lent me an instinctive appreciation of the way that many parts interact to form an emergent whole, an understanding which I have applied to every area of my studies, from mechanical systems to biological networks to artistic design. I have become cognizant of the fact that, as when I am in the water, my own perception of myself is narrow and incomplete, that to really understand my role in life I need to see myself in terms of my interactions with those around me. Six years after my training began, I still pursue the sense of harmony and unity that synchronized swimming has instilled in me, riding the soft swells of destiny forward as I move on to the next phase of my life.  

Personal Statement 2 

Accepted into: Columbia, UPenn, Dartmouth, Brown  

Every night when the clock struck seven, I was tormented by the “entertainment” Mary provided. In oversized pants and a dazzlingly shirt, she would sing and dance awkwardly to Latin music. Mary was my host mother last year during an international exchange program in La Porte high school, and apparently, also a salsa aficionado. Upon hearing that I had taken piano lessons for over ten years, she encouraged me to take part in the school’s annual musical.  

“It’s the biggest party of the year! Cathy, you’re good at this. Just go for it and have fun!” Unable to say no to such an enthusiastic face, I nodded, auditioned, and eventually scored a role in the chorus. It was a backstage role, which might be the only reason I had so quickly acquiesced to Mary’s request.  

Practices went smoothly—I made several new friends and shared laughs with the other cast members. Just one day before the performance, however, the director announced an unexpected change: the chorus members were to perform in the middle of the audience instead of just standing behind the orchestra. While most of the others cherished the chance to publicly display themselves, I became uncontrollably anxious. The memory of my last stage performance haunted me.  

You see, my first (and only) piano concert was a catastrophe. At first, the notes flowed smoothly from my fingertips, effortlessly dancing across the ivory keys. Unwisely, I lifted my head from time to time to steal a glance at my parents and teachers in the audience. Trying to distinguish their emotions through their facial expressions, I found my attention gradually drifting. Before long, the melody completely escaped me! Empty-minded and petrified with embarrassment, I froze on the bench for the longest two minutes of my life before dashing offstage. All I could see when I finally mustered the courage to peer out from behind the curtain was the disappointment in my parents’ eyes and the overwhelming darkness of the stage.  

Since then, I have avoided such public shows, lest I re-experience such humiliation and fail to meet others’ expectations. But this time, it was too late to quit. I had already made a commitment to not only Mary and myself, but to the entire cast of the musical. Despite being just one member of the chorus, every voice mattered and my duty simply could not go unfulfilled. So, I rehearsed repeatedly that evening. Unfortunately, the more I practiced, the more nervous I became, and the more mistakes I made. My nerves were shot.  

The dreaded moment still came. I stood in the darkness like before, awaiting the guillotine. Unintentionally, my eyes found Mary’s face in the audience, and it was a sight to behold: it gleamed with appreciation, joy, and grace as her body swayed to the music. Her rhythm was not perfect, but it evoked my remembrance of my initial impetus to practice music. Something in me changed in that moment, as I observed Mary freely surrender.  

Spellbound, I sang naturally and danced harmoniously. For the very first time, I did not feel that I was performing for someone else, neither my parents nor my teachers, but for myself. Even when the music ceased and the applause rose, I was still singing. Not until the other choristers came to hug me and roared with excitement did I realize that I had successfully completed the show.  

For years, I had been a timid girl always content to hide behind others and blaming my diffidence and cowardice for my lack of familiarity with the circumstance I faced. Now, I realized that what intimidated me were never actually the expectations from my parents or the audience’s gaze, but rather, my inner insecurities. With the new understanding of music as a means of creative self-expression, I finally embraced my newfound strength and maturity.  

Personal Statement 3 

Accepted into: Yale, UPenn, Dartmouth, Columbia, Brown  

Spencer looked directly at me rather than at the camera for the first time, her pale blue eyes muted and melancholic.  

“To my parents, it's like losing me,” she explained, “as though the child they raised had died and a stranger had walked into their family.”  

I glanced again at the questionnaire, which I had developed as a guide for the interviews that I was conducting for a documentary film I was making on transgender issues, a much-talked-about topic at the time. I was intrigued on a personal level, my fascination leading me to conduct extensive background research on the subject, focusing especially on criminal justice and anti-discrimination legislation. I hoped to become a pundit who could compassionately educate viewers on transgender individuals' struggles and rights. On the basis of my research, I compiled a questionnaire that I believed would elicit important insight into the plight of the transgender individual.  

My first scheduled interview was with Spencer, who sat down in front of the green screen and politely deflected my attempts at small talk, no doubt anxious at the prospect of revealing her transgender identity, of which few people outside of her family were aware. I dutifully moved down my list of questions, and Spencer dutifully produced the same facts and figures that I had encountered in the academic papers I had reviewed while preparing for the documentary. It became clear to me that I needed to break through the cold objectivity and impersonality that had suffused our conversation, so I abandoned the next item on my questionnaire in favor of a simple inquiry regarding how Spencer's family had reacted to her “coming out” as a transgender individual. It was at this moment that Spencer locked eyes with me and equated her decision to change her gender to a kind of living death in the eyes of her family. Spencer's candid confession led, in turn, to more personal, interesting, and original questions. I was awed by the raw truth of Spencer's story, which included therapy her parents had forced her to undergo; her mother's continued rejection of Spencer's decision to take puberty-delaying drugs that would facilitate her eventual gender reassignment surgery; by the precious refuge she took in a gender-neutral bathroom near her house, which she fled to as the one location that accepted her true identity completely, shielding her from the scorn and criticism of the outside world. In the face of such sad and shining virtue, of such intimate and potent human connection, I quickly abandoned my role as wannabe pundit, adopting instead my true identity, that of faithful listener and humble ally.  

The golden rule of my film education was that stories must always be told truthfully, and the documentary I made on transgender individuals was the first time that I fully lived up to this fundamental precept. During this and other projects, I love feeling myself becoming part of a story, connecting with the people who populate it and exploring their fervor and their frights. I convey these elements to my viewers through light and sound, blessed with the vision and the technology necessary to render such intimate revelations accessible to my audience. Filmmaking has allowed me to share my own passion and perspective on a wide range of topics, from scientific advancements to social justice. The results of this particular quest for truth were that Spencer was able to “come out” to the whole school and that the school itself decided to transform its sex education curriculum to embrace transgender individuals.  

When the lights go out and the screen lights up, I hope that I can give my audience insight into the complexity of a human mind, celebrating with them the beautiful, difficult, defining diversity of the world—the way I did when Spencer looked at me for the first time, on that day that now feels so long ago.  

Personal Statement 4 

Accepted into: UPenn, Dartmouth, Cornell, Brown  

Can a beauty turn into a beast? In my first year of high school, my classmates would praise my porcelain skin and lovely face. My smile was like sweets, spreading dopamine to others. During breaks, girls would ask me to accompany them to grab snacks, and boys surrounded me asking for academic help. After class, we would play badminton, and I even joined the cheerleading team. Feeling like the center of my group, I savored school life.  

Alas! Perhaps Maleficent envied my beauty and put a curse on me. When I awoke one fateful day in the tenth grade, the surrounding areas of my eyes and jaw were covered in a painful rash. I didn’t want to go to class, as I feared tarnishing the impression my friends had of me. I couldn’t even look in the mirror: I didn’t recognize the horrid reflection. The sorceress’s power was so strong that the medicines prescribed to combat my diagnosed Atopic Dermatitis proved useless. Rashes covered my whole body within months. The itch made sleeping impossible; I lived in a zombie-like state. My skin resembled a hundred-year-old tree bark, and when I shook my arms, scurf fell like snowflakes. I felt helpless and disappointed, not only with my physical condition, but also with my friends’ attitudes. They promptly ignored me, except to flash despising eyes. I was alone, walking in the dark hallway listening to girls’ ringing laughter in their rooms. The popular girl had turned into a monster.  

After that semester, my condition became so severe that I had to be hospitalized. The AD had turned into Erythroderma, and doctors wanted to inject me with medicines that would cause life-long reliance and have harmful effects on my kidneys and liver. I refused, unwilling to put my long-term health at risk for short-term alleviation of symptoms. Instead, I decided to only take the anti-inflammatory treatment while exercising, as my background in alternative medicine had led me to believe that allergies often stem from weak immune systems.  

At first, I could only do gentle exercise like hiking. Every time I sweated, the itch felt like millions of ants running through my body. I had to grit my teeth and divert my attention to resist the impulse to scratch. The biggest motivator that steadied my faith of persistence is the last line of Shelley’s Ode to the West Wind : If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? When I came across that line one ordinary afternoon, it was imprinted in my heart. I would repeat the line like a mantra when hope seemed dim. Determined to become healthy again, I continued exercise and finally witnessed miracles. The itch gradually diminished and I perspired more, which meant that toxins were being expelled. Then, I worked my exercise up to badminton and tennis. I am now fully recovered, with no recurrence.  

However, when I went in for a routine hospital check-up, I noticed countless allergy patients, which stimulated me to help. On weekends, I would head to hospitals and send them skin-care handbooks and creams. Most importantly, I shared my recovery story to ensure them that nothing is insurmountable. I also set up a social media platform to reach more people. In forums, patients’ parents could share their pains, solutions, preferred creams, and medical tips. Seeing their thankful notes and patients’ happy faces, I realized the worthiness of my experience.  

This experience taught me that no matter how difficult adversity seems, confidence, persistence, bravery, and hope can direct me to light. No matter how powerful Maleficent is, good always trumps evil. This experience also helped me realize the importance of making social contributions, and I hope to found my own charity for helping AD patients in the future. Now when I look in the mirror, not only do I see a beautiful reflection, but I also see an altruistic, fierce, modern-day Princess smiling back at me.  

Personal Statement 5 

Accepted into: UPenn, Columbia, Brown  

I simply couldn’t hold back the deluge of tears that flooded like water through a leaky dyke. Our new music teacher, Ms. L., hadn't shown up for the orchestra rehearsal, and we had been plagued with problematic microphones and harassed by security guards who insisted on closing up early. Accustomed to how our old teacher had helped us prepare, we had focused on perfecting the pieces, paying little heed to tedious administrative issues. Consequently, we were facing a grim and disordered reality as the big night of our annual concert.  

When I vented to a close friend, he told me my frustrations fell under the umbrella of the “small stuff,” which he believed must be compartmentalized for the sake of emotional survival. I recalled the recurring pings of the microphones, the off-putting demands of the new teacher, and the last-minute editing of emcee scripts and I knew that in this case sweating the small stuff was a necessity.  

The rest of the arrangements for the concert proceeded with much sweating on the part of all concerned, which was not only a result of Singapore's warm weather. Ms. L.'s approach to things was radically different from what I had grown accustomed to, and we butted heads over issues as trivial as the color schemes of the posters and the prospective candidates for emcee. Many members of the orchestra had given their grudging acceptance to Ms. L.'s new regime, but I maintained my obduracy. I found it difficult to accept that “this is just the way things have to be,” a phrase that I believed was often employed to absolve ourselves of personal and communal responsibility.  

As I meandered home in the balmy Singapore weather, I turned on some Janáček, whose melodies have never failed to bring me comfort. I started to ruminate on the orchestra issues in a logical, quasi-detached way, as the soothing music spread across me like a gentle painkiller and rendered all related negative emotions remote. I realized that the problem with refusing to deal with the small stuff as it arises is that this becomes the accepted norm. Within the shadow of this norm, we often confuse weakness with resilience, continuing to make concessions, unable to back away from the Faustian bargain that we make in exchange for short-term comfort.  

My playlist reached Sinfonietta when I had finally plopped into bed. The piece begins and ends with a phalanx of fanfares—not the usual grandiloquent kind that you hear in festivals, but one that connects a subtle web of melodious relationships, branching out into many variations on the original theme, so that its return at the end of the work seems not just a glorious, riotous coda, but also the logical conclusion to a compelling symphonic process. It begins subtlety, even quietly, intertwining shifting musical ideas to create a cinematic effect, moving somewhat counter to the conventional symphonic principles, paving the way to the sheer, blazing thrill of the coruscating brass salute at its very end.  

The Sinfonietta created an epiphany for me—a sense that I had to find a way to create order from chaos, beauty and meaning from broken pieces. The solution, I realized, was neither relinquishing focus on the small stuff, nor ignoring the reality of the situation, but finding compromise by maneuvering deftly through it. By understanding the needs of the various parties involved, I could navigate toward a Nash solution that, although not ideal, was the best that the situation allowed. Later that night, I took out my cello and played a part of the Sinfonietta in silence, feeling the music ebb and flow, rise and recede like water moving over rocks whose sharp edges had been smoothed by grace and time. 

Personal Statement 6 

Accepted into: Yale, UPenn, Columbia, Brown  

After 21 hours of flights and bus rides, I was finally smack in the middle of downtown Concord, standing in a record shop called Pitchfork. It was a cozy little shop that smelled faintly like McDonald’s and had hardcore rock music on, with a cashier whose belly was so big that his suspenders were audibly tearing.  

I surfed through the racks, hoping to see some familiar names of American pop icons, such as Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber. As I flipped through thousands of records, however, I was only greeted by simple yet extremely American-sounding names like Bob Dylan, Billy Joel, and Paul Simon. There were also some oddly familiar graphics that were almost too abstract to be true: a prism with dispersed light; a crotch wearing tight black jeans and unnecessarily visible zippers.  This must be true American pop culture.  

The mixture of smell, sound, and visuals gave me a strong dose of America. I could feel my feet moving and my head shaking to the guitar riff, the drumbeats, and the singer’s tearing voice. Everything about this shop clicked in my heart, so I purchased a box of albums and a turntable and spent months in my room soaking up this addictive American music. I wanted to become part of this culture!  

It took me a couple of school dances to realize that my perception of America was a whopping thirty years off. As one of my peers put it, I had the music taste of an old man. Instead of modern America, I was living in the time of Afros, bell-bottoms, and disco-skating rinks.  

Since then, I always walk past Pitchfork with my heart aching from a failed, anachronistic assimilation, until one day, I saw my engineering teacher, Mr. Wardrop emerge from the shop. We chatted about my situation and he invited me to a session in his lab, where a group of oldies, young and old, gathered together for some quality lunchtime music.  

Surprisingly, these people didn’t listen to music quietly as I did. They rambled about their family fishing trips, about their experiences through the Cold War, and their Christmas traditions. Although half a century apart, people in this group bonded over the memories that these songs carry.  

I soon realized that the American thing about these songs, which were mostly made by British artists, were the American memories they created. What my peers possess and I don't are memories of a grandfather nagging about ‘Nam and parents who grew up wanting to become rock stars. What I didn’t have were the unpleasantly long road trips and the tense Thanksgiving dinners with foul-mouthed drunk uncles—the moments when music flows and continues like a tradition.  

This group encouraged me to really live this country, to drive up and down I-93, to learn the pronunciation of obscure Massachusetts town names, to knock on doors and get to know my community. This group, which is now the Music Appreciation Society, crafted my American memory that usually takes decades and generations to foster. As all of us share a shiver to Dylan’s desperate cry for peace and Fleetwood Mac’s gentle whisper of love’s bittersweet nature, we are all reminded of the memories that makes us who we are in this country.  

I guess I did assimilate after all.  

Personal Statement 7 

Accepted into: Dartmouth, Brown  

Growing up, I took no interest in Barbie dolls. Instead, I would strut about with my beloved remote-control cars and transformer toys, jump up and down on the sofa with other boys, and roar like Mufasa on all fours in the kindergarten playground until concerned adults would chide, “How can a girl be as naughty as boys?” Yet my coming of age witnessed my steadfast rebellion against such social dos and don’ts. Why couldn’t a girl be like boys?  

Soccer was my first step to fight such stereotypes. It was almost like a ritual for me during the European Champion Club’s Cup to wake at three am and watch the game in the freezing February winter. As I enthusiastically started a discussion about the game with the boys in my class the next day, however, I received no more than their taunts. “Girls know nothing about soccer. You can’t even play soccer!” Trying to prove them wrong, I started to join my dad’s weekly games at the amateur club, juggling, scoring a spinning goal, mastering every new trick, and enduring the subtropical humidity. As I finally earned my place on the school soccer field, I became the only girl warming up in a group of boys before a match. No one could help but stare at the only flapping ponytail on the field!  

After conquering more physical arenas, I started to extend my exploration to another male-dominated field—competitive gaming. Yet prejudice emerged almost instantly: seeing my feminine avatar, other male players, in the worst-case scenarios, would immediately quit the game before it even started; when teaming with me, they would either be patronizing or blame me for every loss. Infuriated by their unfair stereotyping, I changed my username to a gender-neutral one. And as I tactically triumphed over my enemies, scoring aces and penta-kills and eventually leading my team to victory, I would then reveal my identity as a girl. Seeing their astonishment, I gained an unprecedented sense of accomplishment.  

Yet, my supposed invincibility in both physical and intellectual domains was soon faced with an insurmountable challenge – cooking. As someone who despised all feminine traits for years, my hands were tied in the kitchen. The chiffon cake that was supposed to puff high and fluffy turned out as thin and solid like pancake; the sugar in the sweet and sour ribs became carbonized instead of caramelized. Hearing of my woes, my friends advised me to simply give up. “Arwen, just accept the fact that girly is not your thing.”  

Having been a fighter of gender stereotypes for years, I ironically became another stereotype in people’s eyes. Is femininity something I should break away from? Is embodying masculinity the only way of proving myself? I itched for an answer, and mastering cooking seemed to be my very first step. Consuming dozens of charred chiffon cake and scraping dozens of burnt woks, I painstakingly endeavored to develop my culinary talents. When I finally brought the fluffiest chiffon cake to my friends, I once again received the expected look of shock – yet this time, I aimed not at proving them wrong, but at proving myself capable of putting on any identity I desired.  

One’s character goes far beyond the limited factors defined under male and female. Every Saturday, I would start with a drenching yet fulfilling soccer practice; in the afternoons, I would devote myself to playing DotA with my friends; around dusk, I would remove the marinated beef from the refrigerator to prepare a big dinner for the family. Now, I have found an answer for my rebellion: to go beyond the troubling two-dimensional definition of an individual and to embrace the undeniable fluidness of identity.  

Personal Statement 8 

Accepted into: Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Columbia, UPenn, Cornell, Brown  

“Not so nasty now!” I thought with satisfaction as a pleasant organic aroma drifted upward from my experimental apparatus, within which reddish pupae squirmed with the distinctive discomfort of all newborn beings.  

Two years earlier, I had subscribed to the commonly-held notion that flies were disgusting and harmful pests. After all, they hang around garbage, are dirty and smelly, and spread dangerous bacteria. One day, my father brought home a hundred flies in a glass container. Although I wanted nothing to do with them at the time, this event marked the beginning of my unlikely passion for insects.  

I learned from my dad that the larvae of flies, called maggots, will feed on decomposing organic material, which they transform into organic fertilizer and animal protein. Intrigued by this concept, I decided to do an experiment to validate the environmental effects of the loathsome creatures. Under my father's careful tutelage, I placed a waterlogged sponge in a small container, making sure that the sponge occupied nearly all of its volume. This way, I knew, the flies would be able to perch on the sponge to drink without drowning. I created a cube-shaped metal framework using thin wires, fashioning it so that it optimized visibility without allowing the flies to escape. Meanwhile, my father made an egg-gathering container containing crusts of wheat and ammonia. With our experimental set-up ready to go, we added the flies, half male and half female, and prepared to track the outcome.  

For two weeks, I patiently observed the processes unfolding. For the first three days, the flies buzzed around their enclosure, seemingly without purpose, and nothing of note seemed to happen. By the fourth and fifth days, however, large amounts of eggs appeared in the egg-gathering container. These were tiny, white, and spherical, their clusters forming strange runes and sigils. Three days later, the eggs morphed into wiggly maggots whose reek was intense. Struggling to overcome my nausea, I collected the maggots and scattered them over the food scraps, covering them with a transparent container to ensure that they did not escape. Imperceptibly but inexorably, something was changing. When I removed the containers two days later, some of the maggots had become reddish, ellipsoid pupae. Most amazingly, the foul smell had disappeared from the container, implying that the maggots had in fact transformed the decaying organic material into more palatable elements!  

Having experienced my first major entomological excitement, I was inspired to share the bug that I had caught, so to speak. I reported on my experiment at school and was encouraged to find that my peers were more interested in it than I had expected. Out of continued curiosity, I founded the Biodegradables Environmental Science Club, as part of which I repeated my initial experiment several times both to instruct new members and to collect data on different variables. When I look at newborn maggots now, I feel not revulsion, but rather interest and wonder. Most gratifyingly, I have seen other club members experience the same shift in attitude as we put science into action together. With time, our club became popular enough that we decided to organize a “Pest Camp” for this coming summer, during which we will teach younger students how to transform what humans have always been bothered by into some of nature's best gifts.  

Much to my surprise, I have been changed from a girl who screamed at any kind of bug into a budding entomologist who finds insects captivating and beautiful. Though they might at first glance appear to be the lowliest of this world's creatures, flies and maggots have much to teach us about life: That the value of raw material can rarely be assessed at first sight (or smell!), that nature can transform coal into diamond, and that science can weave spider webs into steel.  

Personal Statement 9 

Accepted into: Cornell, Columbia, UPenn  

History has always been my greatest interest, yet through my years of learning I have come to understand that teaching history is anything but an easy job. My years of suspicion were confirmed in the first class of my history tutorship. With students resting their chins on one hand like a half-hung telephone and staring at me with blank, unfocused eyes, I knew I had to figure out some way to grab their attention. I returned home that evening with the best intentions, yet after I opened up my fifth blank Microsoft file in a state of pure frustration, my concentration and confidence faded. It seemed strange that even though I was surrounded by various historical artifacts in my father’s library, I was unable to garner inspiration from such an ambience. I was like a waif lost in the crowd until I noticed a thick, familiar album that whisked me into a remembrance of the days my father and I used to spend pouring through its crisp pages.  

When I was a child, instead of fairy tales, my father would tell me stories about the antique porcelains in the album. I obtained an unexplainable pleasure from sitting on his knees and unraveling the intricate veils from those charming porcelains, the intense aroma of which indicated their historical nature. But not until I climbed the two-meter tall shelf to see the porcelain jars atop it did I begin to discover the real source of my father’s pleasure. Holding a reading glass and a dictionary of seal characters, I would stand on the table for hours trying to understand the depictions on the jars until I was convinced it was impossible. Frustrated, I would relent and ask my father, who patiently illuminated whatever mysteries I came across. Inspired by his brilliance, I started my journey of learning Chinese calligraphy in hopes of one day being able to appreciate the porcelains like my father did.  

Spurred by these sweet memories, I stood up and headed towards the shelf. My eyes strayed to a section that had been my favorite as a child, one containing fragments from a porcelain vase that I had accidentally broken long ago. Although shattered, every piece represents a moment of the Stone Story with its vivid painting. Throughout childhood, I tried many times but failed to glue these pieces together, yet always found it exhilarating and thought-provoking to rearrange the broken segments and build my own Stone Story in different ways.  

That was it! I rushed back to my computer and without hesitation abandoned the clichéd presentation format that only showcased my personal interpretation of historical events. I began typing up my plan for centering the course around storytelling. This way, everyone could present their opinions and imaginations by telling stories just as I did for myself based on the vase debris.  

My new plan for the tutorial class proved itself effective almost instantaneously. Students were filled with passion when they presented their own understandings of history. As we dove into the history of the African Americans, various perspectives were introduced: the “musician” in our class turned his sight to the connection between aboriginal African music and modern genres such as jazz and blues; the feminists actively explored the sufferings of African American women, highlighting their importance in combating racial discrimination; our “poet” probed into Walt Whitman’s attitude towards slavery with an in-depth reading into his poetry. Everyone found their respective niche and together, we weaved an intricate and fascinating picture of African American history with our diverse conceptions.  

History is like a broken vase. Its ultimate “truth” is always irretrievable, and thus any one-dimensional interpretation of history is prone to be problematic. Nevertheless, true historians get close to this “truth” by viewing the fragmented facts through different lenses, forming diverse perspectives, and seeing more clearly what history means for our present-day interpretations of the world.  

Personal Statement 10 

Accepted into: Yale, Cornell, Columbia, UPenn, Dartmouth, Brown  

What I most remember about my arrival in California is the ubiquity of the color yellow. It was mid-autumn, and golden leaves piled on the side of the road, crackling when I jumped on them. I shortly became close friends with a blonde German girl named Pauline in my elementary class, who invited me to pick ripe lemons from her family’s lemon tree. I remember holding a plump fruit under the sun, admiring how it glistened in the yellow light. The first English song that I completely understood was Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree. The song told the story of a man returning home from prison, hoping with all his heart that his wife still loved him; the yellow ribbon symbolized her positive answer. Yellow was the color of hope, anticipation, and enjoyment.  

Two years later, I returned to China, and my world was red. Every day I wore a red scarf, the item all my peers were wearing to symbolize the country; the outer casing of scholarship medals were bright red, and they had a fuzzy texture. In Chinese celebrations, crimson lanterns hanged on doorknobs, each with a candle glowing inside, lighting the streets with warm rays. During Chinese New Year, I received red envelopes containing lucky money from my parents and elder relatives that carried their best wishes to me. Red was the color of prosperity, happiness, and tradition.  

Every color had its own characteristic and emotion that linked to my memory in some way. I’ve started to think more about colors and the emotion that they carry in my artworks. If I’m in a joyous mood, my painting will be full of orange, red, and yellow; however, when I am feeling blue, my paintings will have a grayish tone. At that point in my life, I was satisfied using different shades of the same color in my paintings.  

As time went on, I started to feel that my painting lacked authenticity. There didn’t seem to be connections in my works: the colors were singled out, with clear, sharp boundaries around the outlines. My emotions are not sheer blue or complete green with straight lines surrounding them. No one color dominates me; my emotions are the result of a mixture of colors—all of equal importance—that synthesize, connect with, and interact with each other. Realizing this, I embarked on my search for a new way of painting that resembles the way my emotions are formed.  

I found the answer in watercolor. When my paintbrush touches the paper, the color diffuses on the page, another tint of a different color touches the first color, and a connection is formed. The colors seep into each other slowly and then stop, almost like water seeping into soil. When the colors dry, an irregular edge forms between them; this random, spontaneous natural interfusion is what makes watercolor breathtaking. The colors take on a life of their own.  

Watercolor is now more than a reflection of my emotions—it has inspired me to become a person who can effectively interact with those around me. In the end, life is about interacting with others, as humans are by definition social beings. Connections are vital to building relationships; in a society, different roles are of equal importance, and we need different elements to form a community. Just like how watercolor depicts emotions, the roles in our communities are not defined in straight, rigid lines. Rather, through interactions and communication, people can flux between roles and groups, creating a fluid society. Thanks to watercolor, the way I interact with others will enable me to lead a more colorful life.  

Personal Statement 11 

Accepted into: Yale, Cornell, UPenn, Dartmouth 

My sixth birthday dinner was illuminated by a magical dish—baked orange-spotted grouper. Beneath that nose-tickling scent of cooked garlic and the refreshing herb sauce was a tantalizing sweetness. Crisp shredded ginger and spring onion contrasted with the slightly seared, golden fish skin. I could not wait to grab my first slice, even dismissing the Chinese tradition that I should serve my parents first. The dish soon vanished before our eyes, yet the flavor lingered in my mind and has become one of my most cherished childhood memories.  

The memory of that flavor continued to tantalize me as I grew up. Every year on my birthday, my father would take me to that same seafood restaurant. Every time I browsed through the menu, I noticed that the price of the orange-spotted grouper increased while the prices of most other fishes, once as costly as the grouper, decreased. I asked the owner why the groupers were so expensive. Apologetically, he replied that because groupers can only survive in a very specific environment, they are much more difficult to raise than other types of fish.  

This experience aroused my curiosity—why were groupers so difficult to raise? I researched until I learned about concepts of DNA polymeraseandgel electrophoresis, which concerns the dissection of DNA and DNA analysis. I began to speculate that a virus might be the culprit. If we could extract the DNA of the virus, we might be able to solve the problem. To verify my hypothesis and gain hands-on experience of analyzing DNA so that I could take a concrete step in the direction of solving this mystery, I applied for an internship at the South China Sea Institute of Oceanology, where research on viruses killing orange-spotted groupers are conducted and where vaccines are created.  

Working as a research assistant and under the guidance of my colleagues, not only did I learn to use equipment that had previously only existed for me in a textbook, but I also gained an appreciation for the importance of observation and intrepidity in a young scientist. Daily, I repeated monotonous experimental procedures to find the unknown virus. Most of the time, we ended up getting nothing. Every day, the pungent odor of buffers and agarose solution strongly contrasted with the lovely image of the grouper dish in my mind, infusing the lab with a pleasant, imaginary aroma. Like the path to revolution, the path to deliciousness is arduous. Still, with a firm belief that I would find the key to increasing the population of farmed groupers, I kept trying. During the following experiments, I photographed every result to record the brightness and the length of the bands, identifiers of the DNA’s characteristics.  

One day, the results finally captured my attention. The bands were bizarrely long and had a slightly different hue than I was used to. I immediately compared it with all the others. That’s it!  Believing that this DNA segment belonged to the virus, I immediately informed my colleagues. We redesigned the DNA primers, confirmed the difference, and found out the unknown virus SGIV. The lab is now designing vaccine for groupers based on the virus, and I feel honored to continue this research to help more people enjoy the delicacy of orange-spotted groupers.  

From this experience, I have come to understand that all science is not necessarily as metaphysical or complicated as string theory. Science can also be as down-to-earth as designing detergent or figuring out a vaccine so that more people can afford to enjoy a delicious meal.  

Our vaccine is now used by some fish farms, and we have already heard promising results. Some farmers even sent us groupers as a token of gratitude. The deliciousness of literally tasting the fruits of one’s labor is simply unparalleled!  

Personal Statement 12 

Accepted into: Yale, Columbia, Cornell, UPenn, Dartmouth  

Law enforcement officers are the first fence to impose public justice; meanwhile, this common notion holds them to higher standards and closer scrutiny in the justice system. The unique nature of the job can easily incite tension and often puts police officers under the spotlight. Therefore, when I heard about the controversies around ex-NYPD Officer Peter Liang’s indictment in early 2015, I curiously searched for more information.  

In addition to familiarizing myself with the case’s details, I began examining different perspectives on social justice in social media groups. As I saw myself agreeing with some arguments of each side, I wondered if such a case could ever be handled to satisfy everyone’s sense of justice. As we all hold our own values, it’s impossible for people to converge on a single belief, or a definitive justice. Instead, the justice system is based on compromises and the essence that people should be treated equally.  

It didn’t take me long to discover that Liang was the first NYPD officer indicted for a fatality in over a decade. Compared with other cases in which officers were set free of indictment due to “a lack of credible evidence proving the intentionality of shooting” in court, this case seemed to have gotten a harsher-than-usual response. Unable to determine the rationale behind this disparity, I was perplexed and irked.  

Eager to explore justice and raise awareness to the peculiarity of this case, I began sharing news articles and writing about my opinions on this in my school’s community forum. At first, my opinion seemed to be on the opposite side of campaigns against police brutality. However, as I went to different lunch tables and debated with those who dismissed my thoughts, I actually convinced many of my peers of my viewpoint: Liang’s indictment (and later conviction), due to its unusual deferral in comparison with other cases, distorted fairness, the cornerstone of a common law system. If we couldn’t restore this relative justice, people would fear getting different punishments for the same act. If we couldn’t respect precedents, the justice system would be more vulnerable to manipulation by individual power. However, I realized that merely talking in abstract terms wasn’t enough. To have a real impact, I needed larger platform.  

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. A few days after Peter’s conviction in February 2016, I came across savepeterliang.org . A white background with just a few grammatically incorrect sentences, the website was barren and boring. However, one sentence at the bottom of the page caught my attention: “Looking for more minds and hearts.” I immediately drafted an email to the contact address and attached my latest writing piece. When I was about to hit “Send”, however, I hesitated. How much impact could one website actually have? How much time would I need to put into this project? A series of questions flooded my mind, and I lifted my finger from the mouse.  

At the same time, I reflected on my initial motives for wanting to become involved. While police violence that violates people’s rights must be stopped, it is also important that we work to make sure that political pressure does not blur the justice system. With a crisp click, my email was on its way. After getting on board, I edited the site’s content and addressed the uniqueness of the case. I also created an online petition and worked with other volunteers to gather signatures for the judge. Before the sentencing date, over 20,000 people had signed our petition.  

While it’s impossible to say that my efforts had any influence on the judge’s decision, this experience strengthened my understanding of justice and the justice system: the best referee is not one who goes hard or soft on fouls, but one who is consistent. A definitive justice is hard to find, but fairness is always a resort. When the equality of justice gets violated, I’ll always stand up.  

Personal Statement 13 

Accepted into: Cornell, Columbia, Dartmouth, UPenn  

Enter Ava. Tall, thin, clad in black, eyes hardened by a mask of charcoal eyeliner. She struts nonchalantly in her combat boots, looking so incongruous (and dangerous) in the school. Appearances can be deceiving. More than a nonconformist, Ava would turn out to be the most courageous and independent girl I’ve ever met.  

I first met Ava at an art exhibition in Oregon. It surprised me that a girl so punk-rock could love still life paintings. Since then, we became friends and she would tell me her stories. She told me of her travels to Germany alone when she was just fifteen, how she devotes herself to gender inequality and LBGTQ issues, and how she swears to stop the demolition of old houses in Kyoto. Ava also told me that growth is the process of constantly breaking and rebuilding one’s current outlook, and that the only way to do this is to leave one’s comfort zone.  

Ava’s words shocked me. I realized that I had been stuck in my comfort zone for a while, and I did not want to leave it. For example, on the morning of my first Thanksgiving in the US, I was treated a bowl of white rice, without any side dishes or even a glass of water. That moment, I missed my mother’s Japanese dishes, made with love and care. I missed my buddies, not people who just treated me as a bookish Asian girl. I doubted my decision to have left behind the country I knew, to enter a nation where cultures collide.  

Ava made me realize that I had wasted precious time gingerly safeguarding my sensitive inner world and didn’t realize that those around me tried to care for me in their own way. Even the host family assumed that I, a Japanese girl, would prefer rice over pizza. Slowly, I started to empathize and see situations from other perspectives.  

Due to my fascination with Spanish culture, I attended a camp in Barcelona last summer, which was the most unforgettable experience. Starting from Placa de Catalunya at 8 am, my friend Sarah and I, who had also been admiring Gaudi’s works for a long time, walked along the Paseo de Gracia. We went to Casa Batillo, La Pedrera, La Sagrada Familia, and finally reached Park Guell twelve hours later. Gaudi’s architecture was simply fascinating; I was amazed by his magical use of curves, light, and genius ideas from nature. However, Barcelona shines not only because of Gaudi, but also the vintage buildings, the cozy sunlight, and the warm smiles on people’s faces.  

We decided to measure the city with our feet. Using a map as guide, we walked five miles. Rather than talking, we looked and experienced with our hearts. When this walking meditation ended, I felt a strong connection to Barcelona, as if I’d been acquainted with the city for a long time. I discovered a different me. I would never imagine walking five miles to explore a city with only a map, or traveling alone in Spain. I forgot my non-professional Spanish and the fact that I was a total stranger to the city. I even forgot my resistance to approach strangers. When I asked a passing elegant old lady for directions, when I danced to the music with buskers on the square, I was inexplicably satisfied.  

Humans’ greatest fear is uncertainty. Our comfort zones represent safety and ease. However, after constantly reaching beyond my limit, I found that Ava’s words were true: leaving one’s comfort zone is really the only way to grow. Stepping outside the boundaries of comfort, a much more glamorous and expansive world awaits. I hope that through the upcoming years, I can discover the art world of major international cities, further expanding my mind and heart. As Ava and this trip to Barcelona taught me, everybody is welcome by world, and I am no exception.  

Personal Statement 14 

Accepted into: Dartmouth, Cornell, Brown  

It was a cloudy spring day with mosquitoes in the moist air, yet I was thrilled. For the first time in my life, I was going to plant a tree.  

Dad and Grandpa shoveled a hole in our front yard. I gently lifted the sapling and placed it into the dirt and filled up the hole. Mom stabled the sapling with a few poles. Grandma watered it. For years, it grew in our yard, nurtured by sunlight and tropical rains, producing a kind of tart, juicy fruit named wampee . Twice a year when I pick the wampee, I am reminded of those in my family who planted the tree with me.  

My grandparents anchored the roots of my life. Grandpa was enlisted in the army for five years and later worked as an engineer in the ship manufacturing industry. Yet, he never lost his passion for literature and calligraphy. He taught me how to recite classical poetry, tucking me into bed with stories and parables. In contrast, Grandma spent her adolescence moving across the country with her family. Away from her hometown, she became independent and persevered in the face of challenges: bearing the hot weather and spicy cuisine, practicing burdensome physical tasks, and fitting into a new community. As the roots of my family tree, Grandpa and Grandma gathered experience from hardship, absorbed the marrow of life, and eventually passed them on to my parents and me.  

My parents are the supportive trunk of the family tree. Inheriting the trait of persistence from my grandparents, they founded an International Trade Corporation that exports household appliances. For the past ten years, they have achieved recognition in the local industry and made millions of dollars in annual trade volume. My parents were hands-on entrepreneurs: they worked long hours, negotiated deals with factories, trained new employees, and built relationships with clients. Though I did not witness the beginning of their entrepreneurship, I have seen the stack of contracts in their bedroom and heard their voices on the phone as the dinner on the table grew cold.  

Growing up under the sufficient moisture and fertile soil my family provides, I am increasingly aware of my responsibilities in the family business. Using statistical knowledge and information gathered from my family firm’s database, I conducted marketing research about the electrical fans we produce and export to Latin America. I noticed that the United States, which has been importing most fans made in China, would be a potential market for expansion.  

Moreover, since electrical fans are a seasonal product, I recommended my parents to export heaters to countries like the U.S. as well, since in such way the firm would run more evenly and profitably during the full business year. Through this experience, I was able to learn more about our firm’s operation, which is a micro-representation of the international trading system. I learned to write proposals, contribute ideas, and assist my parents.  

This summer, I went back to visit the wampee tree. The rising sun kindled the sky, and where we planted the sapling stood a leafy tree laden with fruits. Looking back, I have come to see how my family has shaped my identity from childhood to adulthood, just like the sapling that has transformed into a tree. The roots went deep, like my grandparents who nurtured my mind fundamentally; the trunk was erected steadily, like my parents spreading nutrition into my every veins. My grandparents have taught me the importance of traditional values, both cultural and personal. My parents have nurtured and protected me while allowing opportunities for me to develop multiple interests and widen my horizon. Their support enables me, the leaves, to reach the light and the air. Now, I will be replanted across the Pacific, where I hope to be nourished by the soil of my future college and blossom into someone my family would be proud of.  

Personal Statement 15 

Accepted into: Yale, Cornell, Dartmouth, UPenn  

I used to think that my camera only captured scenes of life; in fact, it delivers voices, voices of  p owerless children from Liangshan, one of China’s poorest regions. Every time I look through   my Canon 7D’s viewfinder, I’m eager not only to capture but also to convey and create, hence   empowering the lives of others.  

Capture.  

A group of kids playing rope-less tug-of-war. Bad angle, awkward placement, could’ve used a   larger aperture with a higher shutter speed. It's not a great shot, but it pictured the   fifteen-year-old me trying to immortalize a moment. The girls interlock their hands, some wrap   their arms around those before them, some clutch to others' shirts. My hands feel the friction  b etween their hands and the nylon. My scapula aches as the girls lean back. Innocent laughter   echoes around me. The rope-less tug-of-war might seem dull to us, but their faces sparkled with   glee. They didn’t have much, yet they lived with gratitude.  

From this point onward, every year these kids, who had never seen a camera before, patiently await my envelope full of photos: photos of them chasing hogs, photos of them planting potatoes, photos of them doodling on ragged walls, photos of them waving goodbye.  

Convey.  

A girl clings fast to the window frame, the glass separating two worlds. The texture of the  p itifully smeared glass, the placement of the dreadfully-welded iron…these elements jerk at   viewer’s heartstrings. Hope glides in those gazing eyes, penetrates the blurred glass, and incites   tears. Their hope, enthusiasm, and desire were never smothered by poverty but rather kindled by   life’s extremities. She hopes to break through that glass, to tear down that rusty iron frame, to   crack open the restraints set by destitution, to finally emerge into our world.  

Indeed, we dwell in opposite worlds. We have high technology and sports equipment for   entertainment; we travel thousands of miles to the Caribbean, to the Alps. They have nothing but   a backpack, maybe a few pencils; the adjacent town four hours’ walk away is the farthest they’ve  b een; eating three meals a day is a privilege. Everything we take for granted is mere fantasy to   them.  

Her eyes planted seeds deep in my heart. These seeds prompt me to sow their dreams in other hearts. These seeds prompt me to fundraise, to study architecture, to one day build them better schoolhouses with clear windows that do not separate, but join, our worlds.  

Create.  

A monochromatic background draws attention to the heart-rending shoes. The torn clothes,   dangling threads, and cracked rubber document the hours the kids walk to school. The dim and   coarse concrete illustrates their lackluster background: childhood. We all must tread up and down   countless muddy knolls through our trail of growth. However, these kids don’t have our   Timberlands to soften the journey; they don’t have a GPS to navigate the road. They only have   the roughly paved dirt road wriggling into the village. They have thorns and lurking vipers. They   have loot—woodchips, dirt, rocks, lichen—that their shoes collected, proof of their experience   and strength. We pray that they will walk out of the dirt road, out of the dark shadow, and pave a   wider, smoother, brighter future.  

Glancing through these old photos, I found myself treading through my own muddy trail of   growth. Desire, wonder, and desperation were vividly conveyed through texture, lines, and   colors. My photos morphed into powerful and touching storytellers who narrate my emotions and those of the otherwise ignored. Through these years, I gushed with pride at seeing the kids grow, a series of my photos reposted 600,000 times, and over 30,000 volunteers sign up to teach at  Liangshan .  

The word “grown” has now become less abstract. The camera—the responsibility—has grown heavier on my shoulders. I’m not sure whether it’s the camera itself or the development it captured that weighs me down, but it’s a weight I embrace.  

Personal Statement 16 

  Accepted into: (Oxford), Columbia, Cornell, UPenn, Brown  

“Where do you think you belong to, Chongqing or Canton?” In whichever city I happened to be, this was the most frequently asked question I encountered during numerous family meetings every Chinese New Year. Stuffing myself with mouthfuls of food was the best way to avoid the following awkward silence. Hastily wiping away the soup dripping down my chin, I mumbled under the gaze of countless of relatives, their eyes brimming with anticipation. “I…I have no idea,” was all I could lamely utter.  

I wasn’t lying. Having spent the first six years of my life in Chongqing and the next eleven in Canton, I have learned both dialects and grown used to the flavors of both cities. My family is a peculiar composition featuring two different tastes: my Chongqingnese mom, hot-tempered, addicted to chilies; my Cantonese stepdad, even-tempered, fond of every flavor but spicy. I savor the zesty flavor of Chongqing hotpot during mother-daughter dinners, while feeling a delicious shiver of pleasure when I sip the fresh and mild stock of Cantonese hotpot in my stepdad’s hometown. The two cities have been so intertwined in my memories that I can hardly tell which one I belong to. Yet this is not the case for my parents: their rooted cultural backgrounds have   endowed them with distinctive accents, different tastes for food, and unique temperaments.  

The other day, I saw a split pot in Wal-Mart which was divided by a copper slice in the middle,   resembling a “yin-yang” symbol. After bringing the pot home, I stewed a spicy Chongqing broth   in one half and a thin Cantonese stock in the other. The two coexisted peacefully in one pot, one   hot and dense, the other mild and light. My family resembles this yin-yang pot, with my   Chongqing mom and Cantonese stepdad living together in harmony, yet maintaining unique   attitudes towards life.   

My mum and stepdad have grown to love this pot. Gorging myself with food from both halves while my parents choose their preferred soups, I suddenly find the answer to the where-I-belong-to question. Experiencing the values of both cities, I am the copper slice in a hotpot. I belong to neither half, yet I have direct experiences from both, enriched with the  p rofound system of the two values. It is my existence that allows the two broths to coexist peacefully. I have helped each broth preserve its unique flavor while breaking down cultural barriers so that they have become more tolerant of each other. Bombarded by a constant ebb and flow of flavors from both sides, my copper slice absorbs both tastes. As I dip my spoon into one half, my taste buds explode, reminiscent of my stepdad’s upbringing. I dip it into the other half and am transported to my mother’s childhood. Being the copper slice in the middle, I am free to delve into whichever culture suits me most the moment. I have a multiple-entry visa between these two distinct worlds, and I plan taking advantage of it.  

“I belong to the middle,” I answered without hesitation the next time I was asked. My relatives shrugged, obviously not content with my strange, vague answer. But I like being the cooper slice between the Chongqing and Canton broths. Why shouldn’t I be able to taste both worlds, to experience life from two different cultural viewpoints? Likewise, I hope to be the hyphen in “Yale-NUS”, experiencing both the East and the West simultaneously. With my experience of living in China and studying under an American system, I wish I can better the understandings between different cultures, facilitating everyone to coexist harmoniously in the Yale-NUS campus and working towards a better future.  

Personal Statement 17  

Accepted into: Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Columbia, UPenn  

N o one is ever really his or her “own” person. Rather, we are all products of a larger societal   context and upbringing. The world I come from — m y family, my community, and my   school — h as shaped me into the girl I am today, presenting me with experiences and   opportunities which have allowed me to unearth my passions.  

My parents introduced me to animation when they took me to watch Finding Nemo . I loved the   movie so much that I begged my parents for the DVD, which I have seen at least thirty times.   This charming film left a deep impression on me, both visually and emotionally. T he advanced computer graphics presented the sea in such a unique way that each frame was resplendent with  b eauty. The more animated films my parents took me to, the more my love and fascination for   CGI animation grew. Movies such as Kung Fu Panda and Up taught me invaluable life lessons,   such as the power of faith and the importance of family, respectively. Through animation, my   family built a castle of love, imagination, and wonderment. These movies continuously shape my   dream: to be an animator, employing advanced computer technology to create art which will   hopefully spread optimism and happiness to viewers.  

My school allowed me to share my passion for violin with others. Standing onstage before the   chamber ensemble, I took a deep breath and raised the instrument to my shoulder. I slammed the  b ow on the strings and was instantly transported into Vivaldi’s Spring . The movement advanced   from the joyful chirp of birds to the languorous flow of a fountain to the climax- the tempestuous   storm. All eyes were on me, the orchestra’s soloist; as lightning and thunder clashed, my fingers   frantically danced across the strings. The storm calmed and the piece ended with a slow vibrato.   Thunderous applause brought me back to the real world. I beamed with pride, honored that my   classmates and teachers had delighted in my performance.   

My community has instilled in me a sense of belonging. Since 2014, I volunteered at a primary   school. During my last class, I decided to teach paper-cutting, as art is usually not emphasized in the curricula of smaller schools. I patiently watched an eight-year-old, Min, clumsily cut along   the pre-sketched lines on a triangular piece of folded paper. After twenty minutes, she unfolded   her work, exhilaration spreading across her face. "A snowflake! Whoa, how beautiful!" To my   surprise, she placed her masterpiece in my hand and covered it with hers; I could feel her warm   fingertips transmitting her appreciation. At this endearing gesture, the word “community”   transformed from a vague notion into a tangible one. Through actively volunteering in the   community, I created a strong bond with the local school and its students.  

Consciously and unconsciously, my world has provided me with opportunities and unforgettable   experiences which have given rise to my potentials. I have discovered what I love- animation and have learned the value of contributing to one’s academic and local community. I hope that   when I enter a new world, university, I will discover more fields of interest. Be it a programmer   or an animator, an artist or a professor, I know that my world will support me in becoming who I   want to be.  

Personal Statement 18 

Accepted into: Dartmouth, Cornell, Columbia, UPenn  

A mother’s love is something more often than not, taken for granted. A mother’s sacrifice—time, money, energy—for the sake of her child is a given in most parental relationships. However, growing up, my mother practiced a draconian child-rearing method, which caused me doubt her love for me. You see, my father left my family when I was just two years old. My entire life, I believed that it was my mother’s sense of bitterness at not being able to hold onto a family that caused her to speak to me so harshly and maintain an icy distance.  

As I found no comfort in my mother, I had no one to share my day-to-day events with. If things at school went poorly, such as a bad grade on an exam, my mother would rap me over the knuckles or make me stand in a corner. If I pushed it and answered back, she would send me to bed without dinner. Rather than simply making an imaginary friend, like most children my age and lacking maternal comfort would do, I found solace in the only outlet I could: the arts.  

When I was five, my mom enrolled me in drawing lessons. Sheets of sketch paper overflowed with elements from my overactive imagination- detailed, wordless stories. As I grew older, the process of creating helped me develop a habit of doing things earnestly and persistently. After school, I would escape to my room and draw for hours. When I am lost in the world of art, images in my mind materialize as sketches on a page. The feeling of satisfaction when I realize that my pencil or brush has accurately recorded my inspirations is inexplicable and incomparable. When I am in the art world, a world in which creativity is King, anything is possible.  

A couple of years later, my mother decided that it would be prudent to take music lessons, as she probably realized that academics were just not my forte. I chose the violin, which provides a totally different aesthetic experience than drawing. With the organic dynamics of tempo and notes come either fervent movement or peaceful tranquility. Whether picking up the pace in one of Bach’s Partitas, meditating almost religiously on Pachelbel's Canon in D, or reveling in self pity while playing a minor key, I learnt to interpret each piece for myself. I learned to interject my full emotions into the familiar notes, sprinkling each piece with my personality.  

As an artist and a violinist, creative aesthetics are as essential as air. Expressing myself through art allows me to share what I deem visually or aesthetically pleasurable with others in the hopes they that will derive joy from my works as well. Having such a creative outlet of self-expression saved me from an otherwise emotionless existence. No matter what my mood or thoughts, there were multiple ways of conveying them either through my sketching pencils or through that hollow wooden instrument. The arts became the means by which I grew on my adolescent process of self-discovery.  

By the time I decided to set off to high school in the United States, I was much more self-aware and developed than before. My artistic skills had empowered me with confidence to handle daily tasks on my own as well as hope for the future. However, the day of my flight, I received jarring news: my mother confessed that she had been suffering from cancer for the past XX years. However, she did not want to burden me with the stress and sorrow that comes with such a dreaded disease, so she kept quiet. She admitted that her strict ways of raising me were to guarantee that I would be able to take care of myself and earn my own living in the likely case that she did not survive much longer.  

Upon hearing this news, tears started to uncontrollably flow from my eyes. I forgave my mother for having been so strict and thanked her for the seemingly little ways that she demonstrated her love—spending precious money that could have been used on her treatments to keep me in art and music classes—that in reality, made the world of difference in determining my fate. Thanks to my mother’s sacrifice, not only have discovered my passion for the arts, but I have honed my art and music skills through years of lessons and practice. On a larger scale, I have become self-sufficient and am mature for my age, which I noticed while living in St Paul’s dorms with other boys my age. Despite not having been the warmest of mothers, in her own way, my mother helped me grow my wings to fly toward a better future, one in which she may not be a part of. And that, I will never take for granted.  

Personal Statement 19 

The black water, filled with a mélange of industrial raw materials but showing no signs of life, aroused in me a sense of unease. The gray grass, covered in colorful, organic garbage but no flowers, disturbed me. It wasn't until a weekend last spring, when I finally returned to my native village, a small town near Jiangsu, that I had my impression of Chinese rural communities profoundly overturned.  

The scenery wasn't tidy or beautiful like it was in my memories of times past. Rather, it had become a place of utter rubbish, dirty and disordered. The river where I had learned how to swim, once clear and bustling with playing children and even teeming with fish, was now dark, green, and silent. It showed no signs of marine life or human activity—only flies and floating garbage. Plastic bags floated upon the water’s surface, soda bottles replaced reeds, and the river took on the look of a literal liquid trash bin.  

Equally astounding was the fact that the villagers—both adults and children alike—seemed to have grown accustomed to this new state of affairs. To my dismay, they dumped their garbage at random, as if the world were their personal trash bins! I was horrified at the amount of reckless littering that I observed—not only in the river, but also along the sides of the roads. Every hundred meters or so was a new little “pile” of trash, competing to see which could mount highest, even though there were actual trash bins around. How could people simply act as if man had not invented trash bins? How could man disrespect nature so blatantly and shamelessly? How could one not care about what one’s hometown looked like? Dwelling on the similar scenes that I had witnessed throughout my life in China, I realized that the pollution of my village was unfortunately not a single, isolated, or accidental phenomenon. Rather, it was the norm, as was this disturbingly flippant attitude toward one’s physical environment.  

As soon as I returned from my native village, I decided to take action. I gathered together seven like-minded pals from my high school, and we set to work on the problem. We chose six typical villages around Jiangsu as our field survey destinations and carefully designed our survey parameters. I divided our group into three teams, each responsible for two villages, and we spent three weeks visiting, observing, surveying, and recording. We obtained a number of gruesome photos of pollution and interviewed local villagers as well as public officials, focusing our efforts on finding information and documentation about plastic and other daily pollution, tree-felling, and river pollution.  

We spent two weeks integrating the information we had gathered and writing up a proposal in which we detailed the current village pollution problem using representative data and photo evidence. We also analyzed the likely causes, stating our belief that the rapid economic development of rural areas, which had not been accompanied by expansion of the public environmental consciousness, was a key driver of the problem. Therefore, the proposal that we submitted to the government's advice e-mail address centered upon getting local government authorities to devote publicity to the issue. We made numerous additional recommendations regarding other measures that could be taken, including limiting plastic use, investing in more advanced garbage delivery and disposal systems, increasing penalties for tree felling, and implementing a strict fine system to help prevent river pollution.  

We weren't sure whether the government would immediately see the value in our proposal or whether all of its suggestions were even feasible at this time. However, the more important thing is that we have noticed this issue, drawn attention to the problem, and done what we could to help. We won't stop our efforts until Chinese villages are on their way to being restored to the pure, pastoral communities of my childhood. 

Personal Statement 20 

Accepted into: UPenn, Dartmouth, Columbia, Cornell, Brown  

Clang!  

The dumbbells crashed against the floor. I turned to see Moka lying on the bench, her arms dropping downwards.  

"How was that? Good, huh?"  

Moka glared at me, panting.  

"It's good when you feel the pain,” I say. It’s proof you’re alive.”  

"Then I’ve never been so ‘alive,’" Moka retorted.  

It’s been a few weeks since I first dragged Moka to exercise with me. Everyone in school was shocked that Moka, the stereotypical CS genius and antisocial library dweller, was frequenting the gym.  

It all started with a random discussion about a math problem. Moka was explaining the solution, which nobody else had thought of.  

"If the thought process can be compared to a tree, each branch develops when a certain assumption is made. You may think you’ve enumerated all the possible situations, and upon finding no feasible solution, you give up. But you actually didn’t realize that your initial assumptions were false, so you’ve reached a branch where no solution exists."  

"Interesting perspective," I said.  

"When you deal with these kinds of things all day, you have to try to make some meaning from it.”  

"You never get tired of solving theoretical puzzles?”  

"Sometimes. But it's not like I have anything better to do."  

"Like you just said, if you limit yourself to doing things you’re familiar with, your life will never change. You may think you’ve tried everything, yet you wonder why things turn out as normal. Maybe you can try things from the earlier branches."  

Something in this must have resonated with her, for the next day Moka met me at the gym after school. Watching her sweat on the elliptical, I realized that she was an outlier, her willing attitude a pleasant surprise. The only others in the gym were athletes; it occurred to me that those who benefit most from exercise are those who also resist it most. They think the gym is just a niche for jocks, somewhere they don’t belong. Inspired by Moka, I determined to see more students using the gym.  

So, I signed up as a gym leader and was given the opportunity to give grade-wide talks about my personal fitness journey. I organized weekly training sessions for girls, in which I give either a 40-minute Pilates or Spinning class during lunchtime; also, if there is a newcomer to the gym, I make sure that they know how to use all of the machines in proper form. My efforts have made the gym a less intimidating place for my peers, and I am proud to notice a significant increase in the number of people coming to the gym during my shifts as gym leader.  

In particular, I’ve been focusing on encouraging more girls to hit the gym, as in gyms girls are a rare species, usually only found in the aerobics corner, steering clear of heavy lifting as if weights were the plague. They believe they are intrinsically weak, and this self-fulfilling prophecy is difficult to rectify. Having been there, I know that the best way to overcome the fear couldn't be simpler: (pardon the cliché) just take it one step at a time. Another problem with girls is that many attempt to “shortcut” weight loss through eating disorders, which are rampant in Asia, especially amongst teenagers. To persuade girls to get fit in a healthy manner, I devoured psychology and sports science books, and reminded them that if they wanted to have a better body, there is no replacement for time or effort.  

My personal influence may be small - there's a limited number of people I can speak to, as well as a gym holding capacity - but the changes nevertheless make me feel warm and fuzzy. I’m on a mission to not only develop gym rats, but more so to build muscle and character and to help the other Mochas of the world “feel alive.”  

Personal Statement 21 

Accepted into: UPenn, Cornell, Brown  

The Initiation  

Sitting inside an Indian restaurant for the first time, I tweaked my imaginary mustache and tapped the tip of my fountain pen against the cream-colored paper. I was mentally prepping myself to document whatever would hit my taste buds first.  

“May I take your order, Ma’m?” The genial restaurant owner with a real mustache kindly brought me back to earth from my food-critic daydreams.  

“Uh… yeah… I’ll have the….”  

I skimmed the menu before I found a combination of letters that made sense. “… curry fish head,” I finally mustered. 

Back then, I didn't know that that dish was simply a Singaporean adaptation of an Indian dish, but who cares? It sounded exotic and exciting to this slipshod foodie.  

However, when the food arrived, the smell of spices and the “Pantone” overwhelmed my olfactory senses. The cauliflower, cabbage, eggplant, kidney beans, and fish were mushed into a monochromatic, soup.  

Coldplay’s, “they are allllll yelloooow” came to mind, and I chuckled.  

My initial fears faded fast. After all, nothing could be worse than that aloe vera with meat soup I tried when I was ten. With newfound courage, I fished a suspension from the soup.  

I opened my mouth and closed my eyes, bracing for the worst. I finally understood what “spicy” meant. After a brief dizzy spell during which I wanted to simultaneously faint and burst into tears, I started to notice the base note of various spices. And then, a slight euphoria started to spread throughout my body. “The effect of endorphin triggered by chili in the soup,” meticulous neuroscientists would say. I need no explanations. That fateful meal, I fell into a headlong love affair with Indian food and spices.  

As I pushed away the empty plate, it dawned on me that this was a love I’d been seeking all my life.  

School  

Despite this newfound love of spiciness, I was quite aware that Life doesn’t do a 180 with a single decision. If I wanted more spiciness, apart from changing a restaurant, I would have to start ordering spicier dishes.  

Joining Math Interest Group (MIG) was definitely such decision, one I almost found too spicy. I was plagued by an inferiority complex among the club’s Olympiad veterans and almost wanted to quit, to retreat back to my comfort zone, to reduce the spiciness to mild.  

Then, one day I noticed MIG’s shabby notice board pinned on the least strategic location in school. The papers on the board fluttered like handkerchiefs waving goodbye, and the letters disappeared to make us “Mth Intrest Grop.” I suddenly understood why everybody had this Is it some kind of secret society ? look on their faces whenever I mentioned MIG.  

To prepare for a new round of recruitment, my advocacy for a “less modest” publication was endorsed by the club advisor and soon implemented. Beginning with a notice board that I designed, more students started to contribute manpower, ideas, and resources. Members like me that had previously felt insignificant started to become more involved. I was glad to see the transformation from “handkerchief collection” into a well-organized and informative notice board.  

Throughout this process, I’ve become close with many MIG members, some of whom possess extraordinarily diverse talents. During our regular “notice board meetings,” I ended up learning 

to fold Kawasaki’s Rose, fill in 35*35 Magic Square, and play Dragons & Dungeons. This was a totally new level of spicy for me: simultaneously stimulating yet amusing.  

Present Day  

Now, sitting in front of the computer, mouse hovering on the “Submit” button, a similar fear creeps in. I’m that girl hesitating in the Indian restaurant again, both intimidated and fascinated by the uncertainty inherent in “spiciness.” Well, that girl hasn’t changed. I will take a bite of whatever spice life throws my way, confident that with a playful attitude and open mind, I’ll be able to handle it.  

Personal Statement 22 

Accepted into: (Cambridge, Oxford), Yale, Cornell, Columbia, UPenn, Brown  

I was haunted for weeks after first hearing the song “Memory” in the Japanese film Okubirito  (2008). The cello melody was so pained yet powerful that I could not let it go. I already had many years of experience playing the guzheng , or Chinese zither, but I begged my parents to let me take cello lessons. In the years since, I have grown proficient enough to perform the song flawlessly, and it is one of my favorites. Every time I play it, I cannot help but think about the film, which follows the life of a failed Japanese cellist who becomes a nōkanshi , a Japanese ritual mortician. His difficulties as someone working in this highly taboo field revealed to me the deep discomfort that people face regarding death.  

I recently got to confront this discomfort myself. This past summer, I attended Georgetown University for a summer course in Medicine. I vividly remember the day we performed a human dissection.  

The heavy smell of Formalin filled the room, reminding me of the taste of salted fish. The other students were white with silence. I could hear my pounding heart and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Cold and stiff, a female corpse lay in a half-opened bag on the table. Swirling feelings of respect and distance mingled when my gloved hand touched the corpse. The skin was unexpectedly hard, the arms and thighs scattered with brown speckles. The right knee was injured with a deep wound. Her painted pink nails presented a stark contrast with a burn mark on her left hand.  

I found myself shaking as I stepped closer to the table. I breathed deeply in an effort to calm myself down, and at the instruction of the professor began exploring the internal organs. I gently opened the corpse’s breast skin and took out her ribs. Her lungs were spotted black and abnormally tiny. Reaching deeply down to her abdominal cavity, I pulled out a long strand of solid fat to observe her dislocated stomach. The organs did not bother me, yet I was still uncomfortable. I paused and drew myself into meditation. The taboo from the movie suddenly made sense; there was something far too intimate about this experience. I was invading her privacy somehow, learning information never intended for me. Her lungs and fat, her burn and leg wound, were evidence about her private life. I could see that she had an unhealthy diet due to the accumulated fat; I knew she was a smoker due to the cigarette burn on her hand; and I knew she had trouble breathing due to her small thoracic cavity. Yet as I resumed the dissection, I realized her life must have had more meaning than these health conditions.  

What do we know about a person after death? We can see from the body if she was healthy or sick, injured or not. But the important things in a person’s life are rarely visible. As I mussed with her organs, my mind meditated on the melody of “Memory,” like a mantra. Every time I play that piece, I discover something new in the music. After I die, the music will be gone. Yet that does not bother me, because it obviously stops even sooner than that—I withdraw my bow from the strings and the room goes silent.  

Nevertheless, what I do in my life can never be taken away, no matter what happens to my body posthumously. The significance I give to my life is my own, just as the existentialists claimed. I cultivate my life’s meaning today and every day. I can make it beautiful or hideous depending on the actions I take and decisions I make at various stages in my life. Silence is inevitable, but I do not feel helpless to play. What matters is simply that the music was ever made at all.  

Personal Statement 23 

Accepted into: (Cambridge), Princeton, Yale, Columbia, UPenn  

A long, shrill whistle jolts me awake. As the other raucous sounds—the harsh bellows of strict officers and the heavy thuds of boots stomping in unison—precede my alarm clock, I jump to my feet and mechanically start making my bed. After I tuck in the sheets and compulsively smoothen the blanket, I sit by the windowsill and observe the scene below.  

Hundreds of uniformed soldiers stand in perfect lines. Backs straight, eyes forward, expressions stoic, their legs march up and down like disconnected limbs. After the morning processions, these soldiers run eight miles, train combat and weaponry skills, and perform a variety of menial tasks, such as scrubbing the barracks, before they are allowed a monochromatic lunch of rice and noodles.  

Observing these soldiers on a daily basis instilled in me a disdain for rules and routine. I pitied them for having to eat the same, insipid meals. Perhaps they were lucky to only have four-minute eating windows-their brains wouldn’t have time to process the grimness of their reality. I didn’t understand why these men had to live under such austere conditions. What if they never made it back home from a hypothetical war? Didn’t they deserve at least some luxuries now? The commanders’ rules seemed arbitrary and inhumane.  

Living in such an environment was stifling, but inescapable, as my father is an army officer. Since I was little, he has disciplined me like a soldier. I called him “Sir” instead of “Daddy,” and the only three acceptable answers for a slip-up were: “Yes, Sir; No, Sir; No Excuse, Sir.” I was strictly reprimanded for slovenly bed-making or slouching. I vowed that as soon as I was old enough, I would break free from the shackles of tedious rules and instead, write my own. ***  

As soon as I reached Dallas airport, I gulped my first taste of freedom. I instantly felt lighter, like a drifting balloon. Intoxicated with this newfound liberty, I began my journey in America.  

I had kept true to my word - as soon as I was seventeen, I left to study abroad. My history teacher, Mr. Lorenzo, passionately taught us through stories. This new teaching method intrigued me, but I was not prepared for it. Mr. Lorenzo didn’t provide students with packets of study material like Chinese teachers do; rather, he only put a few bullet points on each slide and said that it was our responsibility to do the assigned readings. Since he never “ordered” us to take notes, I didn’t- feeling triumphant leaning back while my classmates scribbled away.  

Unexpectedly, I failed my first exam. I lay in bed that night, thinking: Do I only need to do what my teacher assigns, or do I need self-discipline? I recalled the soldiers marching in the scorching sun. They needed discipline so they could be ready to fight for their country. As an individual blessed with newfound freedom, I had to impose my own restrictions in order to fight for future opportunities.  

Subsequently, I adjusted my attitude. Dismissing the idea that “rules are made to be broken,” I realized that perhaps they exist for legitimate reasons. In class, I became my strictest officer. I started recording each lesson, which I would transcribe afterwards. I did all of the assigned readings, even when there was no correlating assignment. I jotted notes furiously, no longer the nonchalant. Unsurprisingly, my grades skyrocketed.  

This experience taught me that my younger notions of rules were naïve. Though I still have not come to terms with every social rule, I nevertheless respect them. I have also created my own set of rules - of conduct and morality – which I live by. By following my own rules, as well as society’s, I can grow into the young lady I aspire to be.  

Personal Statement 24 

Accepted into: Yale, Dartmouth, Cornell, UPenn, Brown  

The sacred ceremony commenced again. The leader of our choir inserted the tuning fork—an acoustic resonator used to determine intonation—into her bun. The fork was the crown of impeccable technique and skill, only allowed to be held by the most skillful performer. Consumed with a desire to hold that fork, I painstakingly practiced my scales and melodies. Under our teacher’s instruction, I colored my tunes with the imaginations of sensory details after carefully researching the songs’ lyrics and historical background. My hard work paid off. While singing a ballad of the Yi ethnicity, The Spring Is Coming , I could understand how there was supposed to be a young lady dressed in lime green approaching, dancing in front of me. During our performance in Cincinnati’s competition, I still did not get the honor of holding the tuning fork despite my satisfaction with the music I created with impeccable technique and artificial imageries.  

After the competition, we started our tour in America by watching The Phantom of the Opera . Sitting in the back row without glasses and with a limited understanding of the dialogue and content, I was lost with the plot progression. Yet, I magically understood what they sang: I knew what their mood was, and I knew what they were trying to express. In show-within-the-show scene in which Christine suddenly pulled down Phantom’s robe, revealing the silver mask on his face, there was a sudden silence. That deafening silence was a prelude to a storm of emotional outbreak. A second later, Phantom slowly began to sing, plaintively but beautifully, with a voice so gripping and sorrowful. Something resonated within me, as my heart ached and my eyes involuntarily started to tear. Walking out of the theater, I couldn’t get my mind straight. A question emerged from the confusion— why was I about to burst into tears even though I could not follow what Phantom said?  

Two years later, I found my answer when our choir went to Latvia for the 8th World Choir Game. Becoming the second in command under my minister, I could finally put the tuning fork in my hair. Singing again, the feeling differed substantially. In the competition, we sang The White Crane , whose lyrics are derived from a classic Chinese poem. Sensing the responsibility brought by the tuning fork, I carefully gathered up all the imageries and historical background from my repertoire and memorized the most “emotional” version. Yet, maybe because of over-preparation or the weight of the tuning fork, my mind blanked and my delicately engineered imageries slipped away as I performed.  

My confusion continued until the solo’s high-note and crisp voice floated lightly aloft the stadium, and when approaching the climax, four departments neatly extolled “the white crane, please lend me your wings, I would not tour to remote places, but stay in Litang for a while and I would come back.” At this moment, a scene spontaneously emerged. I felt like standing under a cloudy and foggy sky, riding the enormous saint bird, and soaring to the dazzling light. The crane steadily flapped its huge wings as if every fluttering created potent wind. My eyes watered, and I was again shocked by this unprecedented experience. Why was I moved?  

Upon reflection, I found the answer to both this question and the one raised when watching The Phantom of the Opera . Emotion, the source of music, is not created; rather, it creates itself. It overflows from the music spontaneously. It transcends the boundaries of language, reason, logic, and intended human efforts. All I need to do is grant it ample freedom, and it will carry me into the heart of each audience, connecting mankind through spiritual commonality. This musical journey also reminded me that despite our growing emphasis on numbers and rationality, emotions are what enable us to better understand ourselves and this world.  

Personal Statement 25 

Accepted into: Dartmouth, UPenn, Columbia, Brown 

“Join the school choir – it will boost your team spirit;  

Learn how to folk dance – it cultivates your femininity;  

Study abroad – you will have better chances of finding a profitable job…”  

Growing up, I have been bombarded by incessant preaching about what I should become, forced into paths carved by my parents’ expectations. Oftentimes, I felt frustrated and disoriented – it seemed that my destiny had been predetermined, and I was hell-bent on escaping from it. The two-dimensional animated world had long been my safe haven: Miku Hatsune sings and dances perfectly for her millions of fans with adorable emotions; Homura Akime fights crime with her magic power in order to save the world she loves; Victorica buries her head in books by day and moonlights as an assistant crime fighter. Impressed by their outfits, abilities, and adventures, I fell in love with cosplay – the act of forging new, exciting identities for myself.  

Hunting for gorgeous costumes online, designing accessories, and sporting colorful wigs, I began to fulfill my wildest imaginations: Miku always wears short skirts and fancy tops; Homura carries a sharp sword and magic diamond while fighting; Victoria dresses like an old-fashioned doll with fancy dresses and hats, always carrying heavy books. Soon I discovered these cute, vivacious teenage-girl characters enjoyed a tremendous popularity, as all the posts of my cosplay photos received countless “likes” on social media. Drunk off compliments, I clung to the belief that cosplayer had become my newfound identity.  

My self-appreciation in cosplaying was, however, soon challenged when a senior cosplayer asked me a simple question. “Who is the favorite character you’ve cosplayed as?”  

Though a self-proclaimed cosplay zealot, I was startled that my mind went blank. I had cosplayed most of the characters solely because they were attractive and popular, and for the number of “likes” popping up on my personal page. Even in my safe haven, I was doing nothing different than in the three-dimensional reality: fulfilling other’s expectations and becoming who they wanted me to be.  

Yet, this time I resolved not to escape. I began to search for a character I truly adored, and finally came across Reborn. Cosplaying this character was an unprecedented challenge: for starters, Reborn was a male character, which meant I needed to cross-dress; and like his pet chameleon, he was constantly shifting his image – sometimes a cold mafia leader, the next moment shrunken into a cute, innocent kid with a high-pitched voice. As I strutted in man’s attire, with the cruelest grin one moment and the sweetest laughter the next, I felt not at all awkward but instead empowered. The magic within cosplay lies not in pleasing people’s eyes, but in the incessant exploration into identities that sometimes cannot be accurately defined. And maybe, being undefinable is the best definition of an identity, which grants it boundless possibilities in exploring, imagining, and transforming. And now, even all those teenage-girl characters of my previous endeavor made sense too – they were part of my journey in the exploration of a true self.  

In retrospect, I see all endeavors in locating one’s identity – whether in reality or in the animated world – as acts of cosplaying. We don garments sometimes of our own choice, and sometimes out of others’ expectation. Yet in both situations, we are down the path of exploring ourselves: I indulge myself in the resonances I create with my group members when I sing in the choir; I am surprised by the artistic expression through body language as I folk dance. In the acts of fulfilling others’ expectation, I also create boundless possibilities for my own identity. And as I look beyond, I aspire to see what further characters I am about to “cosplay” as when I set foot in the States. 

Additional Resources 

We hope you enjoyed reading our ebook, and more importantly, that you learnt from it!  

For more information on how we can help you tell your story to college admissions officers, check out our essay coaching process . Our services include detailed coaching for the perfect personal statement and supplementary essays as well as simple proofreading/editing.  

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Ivy League Essay Examples

Ivy League colleges like Harvard, Yale, and Princeton are notoriously competitive. By reading Ivy League essay examples, students can prepare for the application process.

The best sample Ivy League essays highlight their writers’ strengths, allowing them to stand out in a highly qualified applicant pool. After all, Harvard’s acceptance rate is just 4% , and thousands of applicants have the same grades and scores. In order to ace your Ivy League application, you’ll need to write nuanced, exploratory, introspective essays. 

In this article, we’ll go over some Ivy League essay examples. We’ll show you some sample Ivy League essays and explain the strengths of Ivy League essays that worked. After reading this guide to Ivy League essay examples, you should feel more confident about writing essays like these college essay examples for Ivy League schools. 

Read on in our Ivy League essay examples guide to discover:

What is the ivy league, what do ivy league schools look for in essays.

• How to use these Ivy League essay examples
• Specific Ivy League essay examples for Harvard, Brown, Cornell, Yale, Dartmouth, and Princeton
• The importance of college essays to Ivy League admissions
• What Ivy League schools look for in essays
• How Ivy League schools evaluate essays
• More Ivy League resources from CollegeAdvisor
• Our top five tips for standout essays

Before we dive into our Ivy League essay examples, let’s zoom out: what is the Ivy League?

Before digging into Ivy League essay examples, let’s review what the “Ivy League” actually is.

The Ivy League is a collection of prestigious northeastern colleges: Princeton, Harvard, Yale, UPenn, Dartmouth, Brown, Cornell, and Columbia. Originally grouped based on an athletic conference, the prestige of the Ivy League has overtaken its athletic reputation. 

Many students wish to attend Ivy League schools based on the name recognition they will get in the job market. Of course, a world-class education from stellar faculty and lifelong alumni connections is another draw. 

Since Ivy League schools receive thousands of incredible applications, it’s crucial to do everything you can to differentiate yourself. One of the best ways to do that is through your college essays.

To understand how our Ivy League essay examples became Ivy League essays that worked, let’s learn what Ivy League schools look for. 

Through these Ivy League essay examples, you’ll better understand how to write essays that impress Ivy League admissions officers. But what exactly do Ivy League schools look for in these essays?

Like any good college essay, your Ivy League essays should tell your story . Unlike test scores, GPA, or even recommendations, essays allow you to talk directly to the admissions committee and tell them who you are. In these Ivy League essay examples, you’ll notice that the authors highlight their personal lives, experiences, fears, and perspectives. 

You’ll also notice that these Ivy League essay examples are written beautifully. They employ structurally sound storytelling, perfect grammar and spelling, and rhetorical devices like imagery, metaphor, and simile. We hope you’ve been paying attention in English class!

No school will give you direct guidance on what you should write, because only you can answer that question. But some schools like Harvard often release essays that worked to help inspire your own writing.  

Before we share some college essay examples for Ivy League schools, let’s briefly talk about how you should use these Ivy League essay examples in your own admissions journey. 

Using these Ivy Leagues Essay Examples

How can you best use these Ivy League essay examples in order to write stellar essays? Though you can’t copy these ideas verbatim, these college essay examples for Ivy League schools should help inspire your own writing process . 

In these Ivy League essay examples, real students have put the big ideas of storytelling and personal voice into practice. You’ll be able to see the difference in writing styles between the Common App essay and supplemental essays. In other words, a “personal statement” that you’ll submit to every school,  versus short-answer questions that ask you to reflect on school-specific prompts. 

As you read these Ivy League essay examples, keep in mind that these examples are from past application cycles. This means these college essay examples for Ivy League schools won’t necessarily line up with this year’s prompts. After reading our Ivy League essay examples, check the schools’ websites for updated prompts before you start brainstorming.  

Harvard Essay Examples

For the first of our Ivy League essay examples, let’s take a look at some Harvard essay examples. The Harvard application historically includes an optional supplemental essay that is almost completely open-ended. You can find past Harvard essay examples here , and you’ll notice that there are some specified prompts. As stated above, make sure to check Harvard’s website for the updated Harvard application questions. 

Now, let’s kick off our Ivy League college essay examples with one of many successful Harvard essay examples. 

Harvard Extended Essay Example

At about eight o’ clock in the evening, our family steps outside. The cold air brushes our faces as I push myself up to a standing position from my wheelchair. Before standing, I have already turned on my best K-pop playlist on my phone, consisting of songs from my favorite group, BTS. 

As I try to maintain my balance with my hands on the black, metal walker, I sing along to the rapping of Rap Monster, BTS’s leader, having memorized all the lyrics. Finally, when I feel ready, I take my first step, using my hip to pull my right leg forward. My bright green shoes that have been with me for the past four years drag along the dark asphalt, causing the forming holes in the front of the shoes to grow even bigger. 

Asked about my day, I tell my parents about the idea that my Physics teacher presented to us in class comparing the spine to an electrical cord. Excitedly, I start to talk about the nervous system and the developments that are being made in relation to the field of neuro-regeneration, especially the potentials of regenerating neural connections by electrically stimulating the spine. 

Talking and laughing, we finally reach the bottom of the neighborhood and turn to go back up to the house. The upward incline proves to be difficult to overcome, stealing my breath. But holding a competition with my sister to see who can remember the most lyrics to our favorite songs, I forget that I’m even tired. 

While walking, my mom gets a call from my grandmother. Asking to talk to me, I can hear the excitement overflowing in her voice when I tell her that I will be applying to colleges this year. She says, “So finally, you’re going to Harvard.” My ninety-year old grandmother living in Korea believes that Harvard is the only college in the United States. 

Finally, we arrive back at our house, with sweat running down my body. As I sit down, I feel relief quickly rush down my arms. 

I exercise approximately two hours daily, riding a stationary bike, standing, or walking with my walker. In the few months after my injury, I despised exercising, seeing it only as a mere grasp towards empty goals. However, discovering research about new developments in neuroregeneration, and new growing ideas such as neuroplasticity, my therapy started to become not a continuous reach at impossible goals but a way to keep my legs healthy for possible ones.

While continuing to exercise, I aspire to contribute to the research being done in the field of neuroregeneration and to reach a deeper understanding of the functions of the nervous system so that one day, everyone can hold hope despite neurological damage. Through my therapy and experiences, I have learned that even a small amount of knowledge has the potential to drastically alter one’s view of their surroundings, and the amazing possibilities for future exploration offers abounding excitement.

Why this essay worked

Like other Harvard essay examples, this essay provides the Harvard admissions committee with a deeper look into the writer’s perspective and personality. This author chose a theme not uncommon among Harvard essay examples: overcoming adversity. Many colleges provide an opportunity in their supplements for students to reflect on instances where they have overcome adversity. Harvard essay examples like these provide a unique view into a student’s values and accomplishments.

From other parts of this student’s Harvard application, you might not know that they are recovering from an injury. Through their essay, this author shows the Harvard admissions committee a part of themselves that heavily influences their daily life. Additionally, they highlight how it has shaped them into the person they are today.

Structurally, this essay follows a tried and true outline for strong essays: start with an anecdote to draw the reader into your world. Then as you continue, zoom out to reflect on how the anecdote represents your values or goals. This student concluded by tying their personal experiences to their future academic goals. Finally, they emphasize the power of learning to inspire hope. You’ll encounter this structure in other Harvard essay examples, and other Ivy League essay examples in general. 

Next in our collection of college essay examples for Ivy League schools, we’ll move to some Brown essay examples.

Brown Essay Examples

For our Brown essay example, we’ll cover another common supplemental prompt: Why are you pursuing your intended major? If you want to read more Brown essay examples to prepare for your Brown application, check out our Brown-specific guide. 

Why are you drawn to the area(s) of study you indicated in our Member Section, earlier in this application? If you are “undecided” or not sure which Brown concentrations match your interests, consider describing more generally the academic topics or modes of thought that engage you currently. (150 word limit)

To many, mathematics is little more than calculating how much flour Mrs. Smith needs to bake her famous apple pie. I felt this same way until I got to calculus. There, I was examining the fundamentals of change, infinity, and nothingness daily.

During one discussion with my teacher, he expressed his belief that the Fibonacci sequence was a proportion of divine handiwork. I’d never considered any application of mathematics outside of hard sciences. As I sat at my kitchen table that night calculating the instantaneous velocity at time t, I understood that mathematics, despite a well-defined set of laws, contains the philosophical ambiguity I find so stimulating. 

Though finding the volume of a sphere may not fit the traditional idea of aesthetics, it serves the same purpose — as a study of structure and order. This intersection between mathematics and philosophy is one I hope to continue to explore.

In other Brown essay examples and other college essay examples for Ivy League schools, word count can enormously influence an essay. In just 150 words, the author had to explain not one but two intended areas of study and make an impact. 

For some students, a low word count can actually be a blessing. It forces you to pick out only the most important and evocative sentences. In this essay, the student tells us a full story with only a few sentences. Short word counts are an exercise in clarity.

With some prompts, you have a bit more wiggle room, but a straightforward question like this requires a straightforward answer . This can be tricky to do without sacrificing detail and structure. The authors of successful  Brown example essays answer the question clearly without compromising on form.

In this essay, the author explains why they want to study math and philosophy, and their interest in their intersection. The student also uses good storytelling tactics, like putting the reader into their shoes by using anecdotes to communicate. Phrases like “ During one discussion with my teacher ,” and “ As I sat at my kitchen table that night” pull us into these scenes alongside the writer. 

In strong Brown essay examples, the author sets forth a strong example answer to the “why major” question. For a breakdown of the other prompts on the Brown application, read our guide to Brown’s supplemental essays . 

Now, let’s move on to the next of our college essay examples for Ivy League schools: Cornell essay examples. 

Cornell Arts and Sciences: Why us essay examples

Continuing with college essay examples for Ivy Leagues, we’ll go over some Cornell essay examples– specifically some “why Cornell” essay examples. “Why school” questions are very common, and these “why Cornell” essay examples can provide guidance when you’re writing your own. While reading these Cornell essay examples, ask yourself: why is Cornell the best fit for this student to pursue their interests?

Why Cornell Essay Example

Describe two or three of your current intellectual interests and why they are exciting to you. why will cornell’s college of arts and sciences be the right environment in which to pursue your interests (please limit your response to 650 words.).

My happiness can be graphed on quadrants with two axes of biology and psychology. The closer to the origin in the center, the happier I am. 

The day before winter break, my AP Biology teacher wrote me the most adorable greeting card; as a dual-enrolled student completing a special curriculum and serving as her assistant grading piles of paperwork, it wasn’t special treatment at all! But what made my day was the bacteriophage. The top of the card included a little cartoon, “a dreidle with spider legs” one friend dryly commented. I ran around showing it to all who cared to listen. I was tickled by my teacher’s representation of a dangerous virus that hijacks a bacteria’s ability to reproduce itself. 

Moreover, I loved the card because it shows that my biology teacher understands my joy in learning about unusual diseases. My current personal fascination is kuru — caused by prions, mysterious misfolded proteins that produce degenerating nervous tissue and end in certain death. Scary, I know. Kuru folds into its realm fascinating symptoms, crazy laughter and slowing movement. It is also anthropologically significant: given that it was historically respectful to consume one’s relatives in parts of Papua New Guinea, the gender practices of this ritual adversely affected women and children. It is that nexus of biology and culture that fascinates me.

Magazine subscriptions became my gateway to my eventual academic study of psychology.  Reader’s Digest, with its articles on happiness (diminishing marginal utility!) and the dangers of energy drinks (poor teenage brains!), evolved into an obsession: hours at the library flipping through Psychology Today. Between those glossy covers were hours of entertainment: stories of narcissists and psychopaths, of test-taking mindsets between pessimism and optimism, giving me a view beyond the you-like-pink-so-you-must-be-bubbly world of American Girl. That interest survives in my free time reading and my choice of an eventual major.  

Taking AP Psychology allowed me to bring my private reading into classroom discussion. I loved talking about the ethics and design of psychological studies. I had read about the Asch conformity tests, had seen the videos of the experiment. When my teacher set up the experiment with three classmates as subjects and the rest of us as confederates, two subjects did not conform; I still wonder why our ratio of nonconformity was lower than Asch had found. Could it be a trait of the magnet population and experience or the fact that we weren’t great liars? 

Cornell’s Biology and Society major combines interdisciplinary studies from the sciences and humanities. In viewing biological concerns from a sociocultural perspective, it connects my love of disease and psychology and addresses a subset I find to be necessary – the ethical aspects. 

In particular, neuroethics appeals to me in speaking to child abuse; having encountered situations of reportable child abuse multiple times during my work with Teen Line, a crisis hotline at which I volunteer, I am particularly interested to learn more about the aftermath. What happens after I’ve called Child Protective Services? Those of us at Teen Line never know the end result.  Would the child be placed in foster care or with a relative? Would the child, whose life began in endangerment, thrive in a loving environment? We never know. 

But what I can learn is how abuse has affected the child neurologically, how it may manifest in adulthood, and perhaps even what can be done to counter it. The idea that abnormal reactions derive from social contexts can be expanded by studying biochemistry; research about the lack of a neurotransmitter uptake or the presence of potential genetic markers may explain the seeming irrationality behind mental disorders and may, hopefully, lessen the social stigma.

In this example of our ”why Cornell” essay examples, the student illustrates why a niche major at Cornell is a perfect fit for them. Although many colleges would have Psychology or Biology majors, “Biology and Society” is a specific major unique to Cornell. This essay makes clear that the student’s passions lie at the intersection of biology and society. In doing so, they show that Cornell is the only college that could allow them to pursue their passion. 

Out of other “why Cornell” essay examples you might explore, this essay in particular showcases a more conversational and casual writing style. The fun parentheticals and quirky turns of phrase like “ you-like-pink-so-you-must-be-bubbly” better convey this author’s personality than a more formal style. Reading various “why Cornell” essay examples will show that strong essays don’t require a particular style. On the contrary, what’s most important is that you represent who you are. 

Word limit and content

Since this essay has a 650-word limit, the writer had a lot of room to go into the specifics of their passion. This works well for this student, letting them show not only their personal interest in these topics, but also their specific knowledge of psychological and biological concepts. 

Now that you’ve read two college essay examples for Ivy League schools that focus on similar topics, let’s think. How do the Cornell essay examples and the Brown essay examples show different ways of talking about the same topic? If you were the writer of this Cornell essay, how would you adapt it to the 150-word limit for Brown? When you’re working on your own Brown application or Cornell application, these are some of the essay-writing challenges you’ll face. 

For our next college essay examples for Ivy League schools, we’ll cover some Yale essay examples. 

Yale Essay Examples

Yale essay example, please reflect on something you would like us to know about you that we might not learn from the rest of your application, or on something about which you would like to say more. you may write about anything—from personal experiences or goals to interests or intellectual pursuits. (please answer in 500 words or fewer)..

“She’s in the hospital.”

I sputtered into the receiver, speechless at my grandmother’s words. The previous week, she explained that my mother had been acting strangely. At first, I wasn’t concerned. I didn’t consider putting plasticware in the toaster oven or raving about hackers online a cause for alarm. But her behavior only escalated from there.

One night, at the height of Florida summer, my grandmother awoke covered in sweat to find the air conditioning had been turned off. When asked, my mother confessed, insisting that the circulated air had been poisoned by some spiteful coworkers. The following day, she was found slumped over the edge of a balcony, seconds from taking the leap.

Despite all of this, I couldn’t believe that there could be anything wrong with my mother. I couldn’t believe it when I got a call shortly afterward informing me of her diagnosis: schizoaffective disorder. 

In the days following the news, I felt a growing darkness within me. While my mother endured emergency evaluations at the local hospital, I was consumed by self-pity and anger. I couldn’t decide who to blame — the doctors who diagnosed her or the heavens who allowed the woman that raised me to disappear. I was shaken at the loss of the woman who tangoed with me in the kitchen and cheered me on at recitals. 

My world had lost any semblance of sense within a few weeks; the rug had been pulled out from underneath me. But I began to see that this event wasn’t the terror that it seemed to be. I had to accept change. Fate hadn’t wronged me. My mother’s diagnosis, though painful, was just another happening, another day, and another moment, not something I could expect the earth to atone for. 

My mother reading to me every night as a young child is a miracle. All of those days spent swaddled in a comforter watching television together are a miracle. And while these things didn’t last forever, they also will never fade. No matter what my mother’s mental state is, my memories with her will remain timeless. I can tenderly recall her patience as she cleaned the spilled milk off of the kitchen floor, or the gentle humming in my ear as she rocked me to sleep. It is these memories that will live on forever, not the illness befalling her. 

One loss doesn’t destroy all of the beauty that’s been had, and I know that I’ll never lose the tenderness of my life’s small miracles. I refuse to believe that the radiance of my world will ever be lost because one aspect of it doesn’t go as planned. I will never escape change or circumstance, but I know that they are nothing to fear.

As we’ve noted for other college essay examples for Ivy League schools, essays can tell something new in your story. This essay focuses on sharing a part of the student’s identity that the admissions committee wouldn’t otherwise know. In this one of our Yale essay examples, the student recounts struggling with their mother’s diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder. 

The above example of our Yale essay examples is a very moving and well-written piece. We are dropped into the moment the writer gets a call from their grandmother about their mother’s hospitalization. From there, the student backtracks to give the reader more detail. 

Many strong Yale essay examples, and college essay examples for Ivy Leagues in general, involve self-reflection and vulnerability. This essay is a beautiful example of this. The second half of this essay is spent reflecting on the myriad ways this diagnosis affected the author’s perspective. While it first inspired hurt and anger, it then changed the way they view the world. 

Writing about personal growth or change is a common topic for college applications. Though this is a beautiful story showing the student’s gratitude and maturity, remember that not all Ivy League essays that worked are like this. Indeed, many applicants may not wish to write about personally traumatic events—you are not obligated to write your trauma. Any story that tells the admissions committee more about you, especially one that demonstrates change growth, is a great start. 

Next, we’re going to look at some Dartmouth essay examples and key points of “why Dartmouth” essays that worked. If you want more example essays for Dartmouth, read our complete guide . 

Dartmouth Essay Examples

Why dartmouth essay that worked, what attracts you to dartmouth (100 words).

I always had a keen interest in numbers, probability, and finance. Early on, I  could quickly calculate sales tax, analyze probabilities, and visualize complex mathematical models. After taking AP classes in economics and statistics, I became intrigued with mathematical representations for economic markets and statistical models.

This sparked my desire to pursue an actuarial career to utilize my talents in quantitative reasoning. The Major in Mathematical Data Science will provide me the skills to apply abstract mathematical and statistical theories to the concrete world. I will also have the opportunity to stimulate my academic intrigue through an intensive research project. 

This one of our Dartmouth essay examples is one of the “why Dartmouth” essays that worked. A key feature of “why school” essays is mentioning specific facts about the school in question. In this case, this writer shows the Dartmouth admissions committee that they have done their research and care about Dartmouth.

Like many “why Dartmouth” essays that worked, this essay focuses mostly on academic goals—sensible, given the very low word limit. We learn a lot about the writer’s academic interests quickly and concisely. Then, we see what they would do at Dartmouth specifically to pursue these goals. 

The next of our Dartmouth essay examples is more broad, and gives the writer more room to get creative–pun intended!

Dartmouth Essay Example

Talk about a creative moment in your life. (300 words) .

Music has always been a big part of my life. Early on, my musical inclination was engendered in me through my family. My father was an accomplished “Timbalero” in his high school salsa band. While my mother still plays her extensive library of 80’s arena rock albums during long car rides.

My family’s love for music is even more pronounced during family gatherings; salsa music rumbles the floor and vibrant dancing fills the living room. Surrounded by various types of music made it second nature for me to learn an instrument. Ever since I picked up the guitar in the second grade, I have been surrounded by creative impulses that have driven me to write my own songs. Melodies constantly play in my head and are not silenced until I release them through the strings of my guitar. However, my greatest piece of music drew inspiration from the children’s TV show Adventure Time, a light-hearted show about a boy and his dog seeking adventure.

One silent episode where two characters trek a post-apocalyptic landscape prompted me to pick up my guitar and play what came to my head. In sixth grade, this story was the most tragic and complex that I was ever exposed to. Naturally, I had to create something that mimicked its artistry. My efforts would materialize into my song titled, “Remains.” It begins with an exchange of ominous chords that mirrors the depravity of the scenery depicted in that episode. Then, the guitars lift out of their sluggish state and usher in a series of chords that float between tones of desolation and hope.

Finally, the song culminates with an epic power-rock portion before returning to the desolate chords that started the song. Hence, my most intricate piece of music would be inspired by a children’s TV show.

In the second of our Dartmouth essay examples, the student uses descriptive imagery to walk us through one of their creative passions: music. The “creative moment in their life” was being inspired by a children’s TV show to create their “most intricate piece of music.” Ivy League essays that worked directly answer the prompt while highlighting unique traits of the writer.

But first, we learn about why the student loves music in the first place. Music is in their blood and is a big part of their upbringing and culture. Remember, other components of your Dartmouth application can only show so much. Essays give the Dartmouth admissions committee a window into your personality and values that the Dartmouth application wouldn’t otherwise show. This student weaves in scenes from their upbringing into an essay about creativity, and uses vivid images to do so. 

Moving from the  Dartmouth admissions committee to Princeton admissions, let’s continue with our college essay examples for Ivy League schools. Namely, let’s read Princeton essay examples. 

Princeton Essay Examples

In the next group of Ivy League essays that worked, we’ll feature more college essay examples for Ivy League schools. These Princeton essay examples are varied, including a classic “why major” prompt, as well as an extracurricular activities essay example. For more sample Ivy League essays from Princeton, check out this guide .

Princeton Essay Example

If you are interested in pursuing a b.s.e. (bachelor of science in engineering) degree, please write a 300-500 word essay describing why you are interested in studying engineering, any experiences in or exposure to engineering you have had, and how you think the programs in engineering offered at princeton suit your particular interests. (independent work, community, junior papers, senior thesis, incredibly easy to change course of study).

“Some of you may wonder ‘When will I ever use derivatives in real life?’ Welcome to when.” My physics teacher described engineering as the “when” math and physics were applied to real problems. That is what is so attractive about engineering; it gives me the ability to apply intriguing concepts to fascinating projects

During the Chain Reaction Contraption competition, my team and I created a Rube Goldberg machine to complete a certain task. I found a love for the hands-on, creative portion of mechanical engineering. The ability to step away from the calculator and notebook and get my hands dirty is the most enjoyable aspect of this profession. I also enjoyed how engineering combines creative freedom and mathematical certainty. In creation of each step, I could design whatever I desired and had a large degree of flexibility. Afterwards, I would complete the calculations and see how math and physics concepts applied to a real-life problem. Finally, I would build the step, getting to experience a “hands-on” area of engineering. While I participated in other engineering activities in high school, this experience solidified my passion for engineering.

However, other engineering activities also provided important experiences that contributed to my desire to pursue engineering. In my engineering design class, I enjoyed using computer programs like Autodesk Inventor and AutoCAD to create my designs. In FTC Robotics, I discovered that in addition to building the robot, I also loved the programming aspect. 

Reflecting on these experiences with engineering, particularly mechanical engineering, I am certain engineering is the best path for me. As sure as I am about pursuing engineering, I am even more certain Princeton Engineering is the best fit for me.

One thing I appreciate about Princeton is the emphasis placed on independent work. I learn best through independent learning, and Princeton already has this area built into its curriculum. Through Junior papers and the Senior thesis, I will be able to conduct original research or undertake a significant engineering project. My favorite classes in high school are those that culminated in independent final projects. The process of thinking through ideas and finding the best solution provides an outlet for my curiosity and allows me to immerse myself in a subject.

However, while I am an independent worker and learner, I also enjoy working in groups and being part of a strong community. Every undergraduate student at Princeton I have spoke to, mentions how supportive and tight-knot the Princeton community is. Students consistently bring out the best in one another and push those around them to reach their goals. Coming from a hometown with this kind of atmosphere, Princeton’s community would feel comfortable.

Lastly, Princeton’s strong Hispanic community would also provide another source of support and social connection for me. In my school, I do not have a large Hispanic base. As a result, this ethnic community attracts me to Princeton because I would love to be apart of a group with individuals like myself.

The first of our Princeton essay examples is for a specialized program, the Bachelor of Science in Engineering. With 500 words to work with, this writer was able to go into detail. In addition to their interest in engineering, they outlined the engineering experience they already have and how it motivates them to keep learning. 

Remember, especially for schools without a “why school?” essay, you should explain both your interest in the subject and in the institution. The Princeton admissions team will be looking to make sure that you have done your research on the school’s offerings.

Like other sample Ivy League essays, this essay mentions aspects of Princeton’s learning environment that the writer would benefit from. Typical of successful Ivy League essay examples, the writer doesn’t just praise Princeton’s engineering program—they highlight specifics of the program, like independent research opportunities and community values. 

For the next one of our college essays that worked, you’ll read a brief essay on a student’s summer vacations.

Another Princeton Essay Example

Please tell us how you have spent the last two summers (or vacations between school years), including any jobs you have held. (about 150 words).

Cross-country and marching band dominated my daily schedule. Cross-country practices were six days weekly, all summer. Marching Band consisted of two band camp weeks with six to ten hours daily.

For work, I worked about 15 hours weekly at Scally’s Driving Range one summer and Panda Express the next.

Prior to Junior year, I went to programs to explore possible career interests: Medical Career Seminar, where I learned about the medical field, shadowed doctors, and volunteered at hospitals, and Washington Week, where I met with congressmen, FBI agents, and visited sites in D.C. 

Before Senior year, I was accepted to University of Michigan’s Summer College Engineering Exposure Program (SCEEP) and MIT Online Science, Technology, Engineering Community (MOSTEC). In SCEEP, my team solved a design challenge and presented the solution to university staff. In MOSTEC, I took Neuroscience and Science Writing and presented my Neuroscience project during conference week at MIT.

As with some of our other Ivy League college essay examples, this student used very few words to great effect. They answered the question thoroughly and with detail while getting all of their main points across. It’s easy to see that they were very busy with a wide range of activities.

With such a small space for answers and so much information to convey, it’s okay not to include anecdotes or flowery language. However, for applicants who did the same thing for both summers, this space could include more descriptions and anecdotes about that experience. This way, they could tell more of a story rather than just listing information. Use the space according to your experiences and the story you wish to tell.

Our next example of college essays that worked is also quite short and is about a popular topic: extracurriculars . 

Princeton Extracurricular Activity Essay Example

Please briefly elaborate on one of your extracurricular activities or work experiences that was particularly meaningful to you. (about 150 words).

Gasping for air, I do not dare to move as the last chord resonates through the parking lot where the marching band rehearses. Check and adjust. Did I make my final spot, or am I off, possibly costing the band points if I’m off in a show? Standby. Bringing my flute down, I relax and glance around me, ensuring my section had adjusted as well.

Reflecting on my last four years in the organization, I am grateful for the experience. Marching band combined two favorite pastimes, athleticism and music, and introduced me to my closest friends and role models. 

Ten hour rehearsals at band camp and returning home from a band competition in Canton, Ohio at 3 a.m. after a 6 a.m. departure the previous day seemed more like pleasure than work. In marching band, exhaustion is nonexistent and passion is enduring. 

In Ivy League college essay examples about only one extracurricular or activity, you have space to go into more detail. This student used an anecdote in the first paragraph to show the reader how much marching band means to them. 

In the third of our Princeton college essays that worked, this student did a lot of “showing, not telling.” Instead of simply saying they are nervous when they finish a piece, they describe how it feels. Gasping for air, hearing the chord resonate, questioning whether they had gotten it right—these vivid details are crucial. This puts the members of the Princeton admissions team in the place of the student as they read the essay.

For our next Ivy League essay example, we’ll read another long-form, Common App-style essay. 

This Princeton essay example comes from the prompts listed below: 

Princeton Essay Prompts

In addition to the essay you have written for the common application, please write an essay of about 500 words (no more than 650 words and no fewer than 250 words). using one of the themes below as a starting point, write about a person, event, or experience that helped you define one of your values or in some way changed how you approach the world. please do not repeat, in full or in part, the essay you wrote for the common application., 1. tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way., 2.“one of the great challenges of our time is that the disparities we face today have more complex causes and point less straightforwardly to solutions.” omar wasow, assistant professor of politics, princeton university. this quote is taken from professor wasow’s january 2014 speech at the martin luther king day celebration at princeton university., 3. “culture is what presents us with the kinds of valuable things that can fill a life. and insofar as we can recognize the value in those things and make them part of our lives, our lives are meaningful.” gideon rosen, stuart professor of philosophy and chair, department of philosophy, princeton university. , 4. using a favorite quotation from an essay or book you have read in the last three years as a starting point, tell us about an event or experience that helped you define one of your values or changed how you approach the world. please write the quotation, title and author at the beginning of your essay..

Sitting around the table at Denny’s, the waitress asks my grandfather about our family’s heritage. He smiles, knowing he won’t be giving the simple answer expected. He explains he is a Spaniard and his wife is German. My other grandfather and my parents are Venezuelan. That grandfather’s wife is from Martinique. My brothers and I are American and the only ones who live in their home country.

For the last few generations, my ancestors have rarely resided in the same country into adulthood. As a result, their unique experiences have created open-minded individuals with widespread impact.

In contrast to the mobility of my ancestors, I live in a stagnant town, in which many live in the same place where they grew up. The lack of exposure to different people and experiences means much of my community is afraid of change and resistant to new ideas.

Witnessing two different lifestyles from my family and community, I know I want to live my family’s lifestyle. As an individual, I hope to embrace change and always be growing in my understanding of the world. Rather than confining myself to preconceived notions, I aspire to take part in my family’s culture and allow my experiences to shape my beliefs and perspectives.

My family’s culture of open-mindedness has inspired me to bring the idea of encouraging change and progress to society through technology. Using my talents, I will contribute to the advancement of society and bring a new perspective to the field while respecting other viewpoints. Lack of progress creates an aversion to change and the inability to improve lives. Because I have seen these effects of stagnancy on a community and its individuals, I wish to help create a world that is constantly changing – for the better. 

In some college essays that worked, the writer focuses on culture, its impact on their life, and what it means to them. This writer takes a unique view on “culture”: not just heritage, but an overall attitude of open-mindedness and receptiveness to change.  

Open-mindedness, intellectual curiosity, and diversity are strong essay topics commonly seen in college essays that worked. This is because they enable applicants to provide their own perspective on a core value of the institution. 

Now that we’re finished with the Princeton essays, we’ve reached the end of our analysis of sample Ivy League essays. Before we conclude the guide, we’ll give some final tips on college essays that worked and how to write your own!

How important are college essays in the Ivy League?

Now that we’ve read strong Ivy League college essay examples, you might wonder: how important are college essays in the Ivy League?

College essays are an incredibly important part of your application. Most colleges look at applications “holistically,” which means that they are taking every part of your application into account. In other words, your grades, test scores, extracurriculars, letters of recommendation, and essays are all important. For Ivy League schools, you could argue that essays are even more important than for other universities. Since Ivies get incredibly high numbers of applicants, many of them have the strongest grades and the highest test scores. A stellar essay could distinguish you from other students. 

As seen in these Ivy League essay examples, students who were honest, clear, introspective, and evocative wrote the strongest essays. College essay examples for Ivy League schools cover a wide range of subjects, and for good reason. There are endless topics that could serve as the foundation for Ivy League essay examples that worked. 

What else do Ivy League schools look for in essays?

These Ivy League essay examples should have given you a peek into what Ivy League schools are looking for in essays. From reading these essays, what stands out to you the most? Is it the vulnerability shown by students? The artful language? The nuanced weaving together of anecdotes, personal reflection, and goals for the future? As demonstrated by these Ivy League essay examples, Ivy League schools are looking for a combination of these factors.

How do Ivy League schools evaluate essays?

Sure, these Ivy League essay examples have provided a roadmap for how to write a great essay for your Harvard application. But how can you be sure that the admissions committee will see the merit of your work?

Ivy League schools review applications holistically, so they evaluate essays along with other materials to understand who you are. Just like your grades, the essay shows a part of your personality and your background. Ideally, your essays will have given the admissions committee a deeper look into several aspects of you. If written thoughtfully, essays should enhance your status as an applicant and highlight your potential in and out of the classroom. 

More Ivy League Resources from CollegeAdvisor

If after reading this guide on Ivy League essay examples you’re looking for more resources on how to optimize your chances with Ivy League schools, check out our other guides!

For general advice on acing Ivy League applications, check out this article . If you’re still wondering how Ivy League schools evaluate essays within the application, read this article on Harvard’s rating system . We also have many webinars about Ivy League schools, like this one comparing different Ivies.

Ivy League Essay Examples – 5 Tips for Standout Essays

Before you submit that Yale or Dartmouth application, let’s go over 5 tips for standout essays. The Ivy League college essay examples that we have gone over exemplify these goals. Try and apply these tips from college essays that worked into your own writing!

5 Tips for writing Ivy League essays

1. stay true to your voice.

The admissions committee wants to get to know you. Don’t just write what you think they want to hear or a narrative if it isn’t genuine.

2. Tell us something we don’t know

You should use your essays as a way to show the admissions officers something they can’t see elsewhere in your application. 

3. Show, don’t tell

Work anecdotes and strong imagery into your writing to make the reader feel as if they’re along for the ride with you. Remember, however, that very short essays may not have room for narrative writing.

4. Answer the question

Different questions need different answers, and the word count can drastically change the structure of your essay. Include detail, but be concise—there’s no need to include flowery sentences that don’t add new information. Focus on addressing the prompt.

5. Use correct spelling and grammar

Reading the essay out loud will help you catch any grammar mistakes or typos while editing . Don’t be afraid to ask a parent or counselor to read the essay over for you. 

If you want more tips on essay writing, check out these videos from CollegeBoard, and these brainstorming tips . And if you missed UPenn in this lineup, check out our article going over some UPenn essay examples !

Ivy League Essay Examples – Final Thoughts

Now that you’ve read these sample Ivy League essays, we hope that you feel more prepared to take on writing your own Ivy League application essays. Remember, every one of these Ivy League essay examples began with a student staring at a blank page. 

We believe that you can write an essay that will impress Brown or Harvard admissions. Now, go write!

This essay examples article was written by advisor, Rachel Kahn . Looking for more admissions support? Click here to schedule a free meeting with one of our Admissions Specialists. During your meeting, our team will discuss your profile and help you find targeted ways to increase your admissions odds at top schools. We’ll also answer any questions and discuss how CollegeAdvisor.com can support you in the college application process.

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The Secrets of Writing an Essay to Get to the Ivy League

If you’re reading this, chances are your goal is to get into an elite school such as Stanford, Yale, or Harvard. A quick investigation into these schools reveals that the increasing number of applications leads to stricter admission guidelines and lower acceptance rates.

In fact, acceptance rates have been everything but encouraging in recent years. For example, this year’s admissions cycle had the lowest rates in history at all except one Ivy League school.

Just look at these facts:

The acceptance rate at Harvard — 4.59 percent — was the lowest in several decades.

Yale’s acceptance rates for classes of 2018 and 2020 were just 6.26 and 6.27 percent, respectively.

Stanford was the most selective Ivy League university with the lowest acceptance rate of 4.3 percent.

In fact, here’s a chart showing the trends in Ivy League schools’ admission rates that The Crimson compiled in April.

Since all of the students applying to Ivy League schools have overwhelming academic achievement and impressive scores, it’s easy to come to the startling realization that your academic performance may not be enough to get accepted.

Therefore, the main thing that can help you stand out from the fierce competition is the admission essay. That’s why we’re going to see what it takes to craft a personal statement that beats others by speaking to admission professionals in a unique and personal way.

Let’s begin.

1. Write About Something That is Deeply Personal

Grace Kim, a former Stanford admissions officer, said in a recent interview with CNBC that she has encountered hundreds of essays about a short but rewarding experience. The sheer number of works written about these experiences made them a cliché in the college admissions community.

Instead, Kim advises writing an essay about something personal:

"We always said when I was an admissions officer, we want it to be so personal to the student that you couldn't put anyone’s else name on that essay and have it still be true about that other student.”

These essays are the best for determining personal values and personalities of students, which are critical requirements for universities.

So, avoid writing essays about short experiences and try to come up with a topic that has a profound personal importance to you. Admission officers will appreciate that.

2. Avoid a Detached Style

Many applicants write their admission essays in a detached style — a style that makes the reader feel disconnected from the author of the essay or the person described there. This is not a good way to go about essay writing.

If you go with a topic that doesn't matter to you, it won't matter to those reading it.

Simply explained, writing an essay in a detached style won’t make admissions professionals fall in love with you. On the other hand, if you get personal and show that there’s no other candidate like you applying with the same kind of passion, strengths, and characteristics, your chances of getting accepted will increase dramatically.

How to make admissions professionals fall in love with you? Before you even begin writing an essay, think of a topic that you really want to write about. If you go with a topic that doesn’t matter to you, it won’t matter to those reading it. Don’t be afraid if the topic is complex — a great topic is always complex!

3. Don’t Try to Be Funny

Of course, there are some examples when a humorous essay helped students get into an Ivy League university , but the truth is, not everyone is funny. And it’s totally okay! Just think about this: how would it feel to read an essay where an applicant is trying too hard to be funny?

Right, it would be a cringe-fest.

While experimenting with different styles of essay writing is strongly encouraged, don’t write a humorous essay just because you think that admissions professionals will appreciate it. Humor can make your essay unique, but it can also make it memorable for the uncomfortable experience someone had while reading it.

4. Essays Succeed or Fail in the Details

One surefire way to engage readers and transport them into your story is to give vivid details. For example, tell them about the weather, your feelings, or the look on someone’s face. Make them taste that delicious apple pie you had on the 4th of July this year.

This essay writing technique is called imagery and it allows the readers to see the world through your eyes and cheer for you in situations you faced. In other words, it introduces you as a human being, not just another applicant. So, be descriptive about the situation or the moment you’re addressing in your essay, because the admissions officers will want to smell it, touch it, and see it.

A good example of using imagery to get accepted to an Ivy League university comes from a student from California, referred to as Bobby in a recent review, whose descriptive writing scored him an acceptance to Harvard. In this review of his essay , The Crimson Brand Studio writes that imagery was one of the most prominent facets of his writing:

Use of imagery in the introduction: “It is first utilized to bring the reader into the piece and make the introduction pop, with “Late evening rays [...] casting a gentle glow…”

Use of imagery in the body of the essay: “Bobby’s use of imagery brings his essay to life…” Also, it illustrates “the contrast between his organized, type A persona and the abstract art he eventually creates.”

Read the full review using the link above to get all details on Bobby’s use of imagery that got him into Harvard.

5. Proofread, Proofread, Proofread

This one goes without saying: an Ivy League application essay should never be a one-and-done deal. Even a small piece requires a lot of proofreading (checking for spelling, grammar, and punctuation mistakes).

Remember — only one, simple grammar or spelling mistake will get you in the reject pile immediately.

Don’t rely on your text processor’s spell check function — make sure to proofread it by yourself. When you’re done editing, ask your English teacher or even a friend to proofread some more. Remember — only one, simple grammar or spelling mistake will get you in the reject pile immediately.

Be careful when giving your essay to others, though. Keeping the number of people you ask for proofreading is a great idea because having too many people giving you advice may result in your voice getting lost.

As acceptance rates in Ivy League schools showed, your overwhelming academic performance may not be a deciding factor. To increase your chances of getting accepted, you have to write a superb essay that follows the best practices. Use the ones above to guide you to the success and help to beat stress associated with writing application essays.

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The Crimson's news and opinion teams—including writers, editors, photographers, and designers—were not involved in the production of this article.