Many were just ordinary college application essays samples discussing Nietzsche, string theory, college application essays samples, and governmental ideologies. I thought my parents were superheroes; surely they would be able to make well again. In elementary school, I already knew my career path: I was going to be Emperor of the World. I needed to trust the creative side of kombucha— the side that takes people's perfectionist energy and explodes it into a puddle of rotten egg smelling 'booch my preferred name for the drink- not "fermented, effervescent liquid from a symbiotic culture of acetic acid bacteria and yeast". Instead, it is the seamless interaction between facilities that allows each department, from engineering to programming, to create a real learning environment that profoundly mimics the real world. Why suffer?
Common App Essay Examples
Home — Application Essay. Each kind of writing college application essays samples special and one should not neglect its structure and all requirements, college application essays samples. College entrance essay also has its own requirements. But, well written Application Essays can become a special decisive factor, if you are on the edge of enrollment and rejection, as a student. The main tip: do not tune yourself to something bad. Application writing is not the end of the world and you can prepare for it. If everything is not that bad, then why can students be disappointed? The reasons can be various but remember: sit down at the table once, collect the necessary information, read other college application essay samples, look for college essay topics college application essays samples choose one, get the thoughts together and make a good paper sample.
We have a few college application essays samples for you. Scroll down to discover them. When the designer thinks about the dress style, he may resort to outside help and looks at what styles already exist. When the artist loses his inspiration, he starts being inspired by the works of others. What does the designer, artist, college application essays samples, and writer have in common? Each of them peeps for others in their area to be inspired and create something new. Read one sample, read two or ten. You must understand what your work should look like and what it should consist of. You can find college application essay examples on our website or on the similar ones. Write a paper. Enter the desirable college!
We use cookies to personalyze your web-site experience. Business School Application Essays. Engineering Schools Application Essays. Law School Application Essays. Liberal Arts Schools Application Essays. Medical School Application Essays. National Universities Application Essays. Nursing Schools Application Essays. Scholarship Application Essays. of Technology Mercer University Michigan State University Middlebury College Mount Holyoke College New York University North Carolina State University Northeastern University Northwestern University Oberlin College Ohio State University Old Dominion University Pennsylvania State University College application essays samples University Pomona College Pratt Institute Princeton University Providence College Purdue University Reed College Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute Rice University Rutgers University Santa Clara University Seton Hall University Sewanee: The University of the South Smith College Southern Methodist University St.
John's College St. Louis Wellesley College Wentworth Institute of Technology Wesleyan University Whitman College William and Mary College Williams College Yale University. Popular University Brown University California Institute of Technology Columbia University Cornell University Duke University Harvard University Massachusetts Inst. of Technology New York University Northeastern University Princeton University Stanford University University of California, Berkeley University of California, Los Angeles University of Chicago University of Pennsylvania University of Texas - Austin. Got it, college application essays samples.
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You must understand what your work should look like and what it should consist of. You can find college application essay examples on our website or on the similar ones. Write a paper. Enter the desirable college! We use cookies to personalyze your web-site experience. Business School Application Essays. Engineering Schools Application Essays. Law School Application Essays. Liberal Arts Schools Application Essays. Medical School Application Essays. National Universities Application Essays. Nursing Schools Application Essays.
Scholarship Application Essays. To understand how to answer the essay prompt for Johns Hopkins, an example is provided. Carefully observe the sample to draft your personal statement in an effective way. Apart from general personal statements, some colleges require application essays specific to the field. For example, if you are to pursue your dream of doing engineering, you will be writing an essay related to that. If you apply to a college for a degree in computer sciences, below is the example provided. It will help you draft your application essay successfully.
A college application essay or a personal statement is writing drafted by a student when applying for a college education. Being the most important part of the admission process, the essay should be written professionally. To help you draft your essay correctly, expert writers of CollegeEssay. org have presented some tips to follow. These incredible tips can do wonders for your college essay. Follow them to get admission to fulfill your dream of studying in college. Small elements can either make or break your essay. This essay type must be drafted correctly and professionally if you desire to study in a dream college. This essay requires a writer to be good at self-evaluation. Also, impress the committee with his personality and knowledge.
Writing an application essay means that the writer has to identify an interest or talent he possesses and shares it with the audience. A college essay is your only chance to get admission, so get it right. If you are not sure of your skills, get help from professional essay writing services such as CollegeEssay. It is a writing company that provides college essays, research papers, term papers, and any other writing type students want. Hire an expert by simply placing the order at the most reasonable price. They want students who can articulate their thoughts clearly and concisely and creatively! You should be writing and rewriting your essays, perfecting them as you go.
Of course, make sure that your grammar and spelling are impeccable, but also put in time crafting your tone and finding your voice. This will also make your essay more personal and will make your reader feel more connected to you! Compelling Common App essays tell a cohesive story. Cohesion is primarily achieved through effective introductions and conclusions , which often contribute to the establishment of a clear theme or topic. Note: Names have been changed to protect the identity of the author and subjects. The room was silent except for the thoughts racing through my head. I led a spade from my hand and my opponent paused for a second, then played a heart.
The numbers ran through my mind as I tried to consider every combination, calculating my next move. Finally, I played the ace of spades from the dummy and the rest of my clubs, securing the contract and points when my partner ruffed at trick five. Next board. The winning team would be selected to represent the United States in the world championship and my team was still in the running. Contract bridge is a strategic and stochastic card game. Players from around the world gather at local clubs, regional events, and, in this case, national tournaments.
Going into the tournament, my team was excited; all the hours we had put into the game, from the lengthy midnight Skype sessions spent discussing boards to the coffee shop meetings spent memorizing conventions together, were about to pay off. Halfway through, our spirits were still high, as we were only down by fourteen international match points which, out of the final total of about four hundred points, was virtually nothing and it was very feasible to catch up. Our excitement was short-lived, however, as sixty boards later, we found that we had lost the match and would not be chosen as the national team.
Initially, we were devastated. We had come so close and it seemed as if all the hours we had devoted to training had been utterly wasted. I chatted with the winning team and even befriended a few of them who offered us encouragement and advice. They teach me the importance of sportsmanship and forgiveness. I greet the legally blind man who can defeat most of the seeing players. He reminds me not to make excuses. I chat with the friendly, elderly couple who, at ages ninety and ninety-two, have just gotten married two weeks ago. They show me that there is more than one path to success. I congratulate the little kid running to his dad, excited to have won his very first masterpoints. He reminds me of the thrill of every first time and to never stop trying new things. Just as much as I have benefitted from these life lessons, I aspire to give back to my bridge community as much as it has given me.
I aspire to teach people how to play this complicated yet equally as exciting game. I aspire to never stop improving myself, both at and away from the bridge table. Bridge has given me my roots and dared me to dream. What started as merely a hobby has become a community, a passion, a part of my identity. I aspire to live selflessly and help others reach their goals. I seek to take risks, embrace all results, even failure, and live unfettered from my own doubt. This student draws readers in with a strong introduction. This makes the reader want to keep reading which is super important! This latter strategy is much more effective than the former and is watered down because the student has already told us what we are supposed to get out of these sentences.
Remember that your readers are intelligent and can draw their own conclusions. Avoid summarizing the moral of your story for them! Overall, this essay is interesting and answers the prompt. We learn the importance of bridge to this student. The student has a solid grasp of language, a high-level vocabulary, and a valuable message, though they would be better off if they avoided summarizing their point and created more seamless transitions. Growing up, I always wanted to eat, play, visit, watch, and be it all: sloppy joes and spaetzle, Beanie Babies and Steiff, Cape Cod and the Baltic Sea, football and fussball, American and German.
My American parents relocated our young family to Berlin when I was three years old. My exposure to America was limited to holidays spent stateside and awfully dubbed Disney Channel broadcasts. As the few memories I had of living in the US faded, my affinity for Germany grew. As a child, I viewed my biculturalism as a blessing. Insidiously, the magic I once felt in loving two homes was replaced by a deep-rooted sense of rootlessness. Until that moment, my cheers had felt sincere. Caught in a twilight of foreign and familiar, I felt emotionally and psychologically disconnected from the two cultures most familiar to me.
After moving from Berlin to New York at age fifteen, my feelings of cultural homelessness thrived in my new environment. Looking and sounding American furthered my feelings of dislocation. Americans confused me as I relied on Urban Dictionary to understand my peers, the Pledge of Allegiance seemed nationalistic, and the only thing familiar about Fahrenheit was the German after whom it was named. Too German for America and too American for Germany, I felt alienated from both. I wanted desperately to be a member of one, if not both, cultures. It was there that I met Emily, a twelve-year-old Iraqi girl who lived next to Horizons. In between games and snacks, Emily would ask me questions about American life, touching on everything from Halloween to President Obama.
Gradually, my confidence in my American identity grew as I recognized my ability to answer most of her questions. American culture was no longer completely foreign to me. Together, we worked through conflicting allegiances, homesickness, and stretched belonging. Forging a special, personal bond with young refugees proved a cathartic outlet for my insecurities as it taught me to value my past. My transculturalism allowed me to help young refugees integrate into American life, and, in doing so, I was able to adjust myself. Now, I have an appreciation of myself that I never felt before.
By helping a young refugee find comfort, happiness, and home in America, I was finally able to find those same things for myself. Though the essay shifts from this lighthearted introduction to more serious subject matter around the third paragraph, the shift is not abrupt or jarring. Ultimately, this essay is successful due to its satisfying ending. As the student describes how, in the end, their complicated cultural identity still exists but transitions to a source of strength, readers are left feeling happy for the student. This means that they have formed a connection with the student, which is the ultimate goal!
New record! Pleased with my progress, I gazed down at my worn-out pointe shoes. The sweltering blisters, numbing ice-baths, and draining late-night practices did not seem so bad after all. Next goal: five turns. For as long as I can remember, ballet, in all its finesse and glamor, had kept me driven day to day. As a child, the lithe ballerinas, donning ethereal costumes as they floated across the stage, were my motivation. While others admired Messi and Adele, I idolized Carlos Acosta, principal dancer of the Royal Ballet. As I devoted more time and energy towards my craft, I became obsessed with improving my technique. I would stretch for hours after class, forcing my leg one inch higher in an effort to mirror the Dance Magazine cover girls.
I injured my feet and ruined pair after pair of pointe shoes, turning on wood, cement, and even grass to improve my balance as I spun. I believed that, with enough determination, I would one day attain their level of perfection. Reaching the quadruple- pirouette milestone only intensified my desire to accomplish even more. I walked into my first session eager to learn from distinguished ballet masters and worldly dancers, already anticipating my improvement. Yet, as I danced alongside the accomplished ballerinas, I felt out of place. Despite their clean technique and professional training, they did not aim for glorious leg extensions or prodigious leaps. When they performed their turn combinations, most of them only executed two turns as I attempted four.
Taken aback and confused, I wondered why our teacher expected so little from us. The other ballerinas seemed content, gracing the studio with their simple movements. As I grew closer with my Moscow roommates, I gradually learned that their training emphasized the history of the art form instead of stylistic tricks. Rather than show off their physical ability, their performances aimed to convey a story, one that embodied the rich culture of ballet and captured both the legacy of the dancers before them and their own artistry. As I observed my friends more intently in repertoire class, I felt the pain of the grief-stricken white swan from Swan Lake , the sass of the flirtatious Kitri from Don Quijote, and I gradually saw what I had overlooked before. My definition of talent had been molded by crowd-pleasing elements—whirring pirouettes , gravity-defying leaps, and mind-blowing leg extensions.
This mindset slowly stripped me from the roots of my passion and my personal connection with ballet. With the Bolshoi, I learned to step back and explore the meaning behind each step and the people behind the scenes. My journey as an artist has allowed me to see how technical execution is only the means to a greater understanding between dancer and spectator, between storyteller and listener. The elegance and complexity of ballet does not revolve around astonishing stunts but rather the evocative strength and artistry manifested in the dancer, in me. It is the combination of sentiments, history, tradition, and passion that has allowed ballet and its lessons of human connection to become my lifestyle both on and off stage.
It is purposefully reflective. Intentional language creates a clear character arc that begins with an eager young ballerina and ends with the student reflecting on their past. The main weakness of this essay though this is a stellar essay is its formulaic beginning. The feeling was euphoric. From a young age, painting has been my solace. Between the stress of my packed high school days filled with classes and extracurriculars, the glide of my paintbrush was my emotional outlet. I opened a fresh canvas and began. The amalgamation of assorted colors in my palette melded harmoniously: dark and light, cool and warm, brilliant and dull. They conjoined, forming shades and surfaces sharp, smooth, and ridged. The textures of my paint strokes — powdery, glossy, jagged — gave my painting a tone, as if it had a voice of its own, sometimes shrieking, sometimes whispering.
Rough indigo blue. The repetitive upward pulls of my brush formed layers on my canvas. Staring into the deep blue, I felt transported to the bottom of the pool I swim in daily. I looked upward to see a layer of dense water between myself and the person I aspire to be, an ideal blurred by filmy ripples. They caused my ever present disdain toward cultural assemblies; the lehenga I wore felt burdensome. My identity quivers like the indigo storm I painted — a duel between my self-deprecating, validation-seeking self, and the proud self I desire to be. My haphazard paint strokes released my internal turbulence. Smooth orange-hued green. I laid the color in melodious strokes, forming my figure.
The warmer green transitions from the rough blue — while they share elements, they also diverge. My firm brushstrokes felt like the way I felt on my first day as a media intern at KBOO, my local volunteer-driven radio station, committed to the voices of the marginalized. As a naturally introverted speaker, I was forced out of my comfort zone when tasked with documenting a KBOO art exhibition for social media, speaking with hosts to share their diverse, underrepresented backgrounds and inspirations. A rhythmic green strength soon shoved me past internal blue turbulence. My communication skills which were built by two years of Speech and Debate unleashed — I recognized that making a social change through media required amplifying unique voices and perspectives, both my own and others.
The powerful green strokes that fill my canvas entrench my growth. Bright, voluminous coral, hinted with magenta and yellow. I dabbed the color over my figure, giving my painting dimension. The paint, speckled, added depth on every inch it coated. As I moved the color in random but purposeful movements, the vitality ushered into my painting brought a smile across my face. It reminded me of the encounters I had with my cubicle-mate in my sophomore year academic autism research internship, seemingly insignificant moments in my lifelong journey that, in retrospect, wove unique threads into my tapestry.
The kindness she brought into work inspired my compassion, while her stories of struggling with ADHD in the workplace bolstered my empathy towards different experiences. Our conversations added blobs of a nonuniform bright color in my painting, binding a new perspective in me. I added in my final strokes, each contributing an element to my piece. As I scanned my canvas, I observed these elements. Detail added nuance into smaller pictures; they embodied complexities within color, texture, and hue, each individually delivering a narrative. But together, they formed a piece of art— art that could be interpreted as a whole or broken apart but still delivering as a means of communication. I find beauty in media because of this. I can adapt a complex narrative to be deliverable, each component telling a story.
Appreciating these nuances — the light, dark, smooth, and rough — has cultivated my growth mindset. My life-long painting never finishes. It is ever-expanding, absorbing the novel textures and colors I encounter daily. This essay is distinct from others due to its melodic, lyrical form. As readers, we simply flow through the essay, occasionally picking up bits of information about its creator. Without even realizing it, by the end of the essay, admissions officers will know that this student is a swimmer, was in Speech and Debate, is Indian, and has had multiple internships.
A major strength of this essay is the command of language that the student demonstrates. This essay was not simply written, it was crafted. Universities are, of course, interested in the talents, goals, and interests of applicants, but an essay being well-written can be equally important. While this essay is well-written, there are a few moments where it falls out of the flow and feels more like a student advertising their successes. Admissions officers have a copy of your resume and can check your internship experiences after reading your essay! Your boldness will be attractive to admissions officers. To my shame, I had been appallingly ignorant of his pain.
Despite being twins, Max and I are profoundly different. Having intellectual interests from a young age that, well, interested very few of my peers, I often felt out of step in comparison with my highly-social brother. Everything appeared to come effortlessly for Max and, while we share an extremely tight bond, his frequent time away with friends left me feeling more and more alone as we grew older. When my parents learned about The Green Academy, we hoped it would be an opportunity for me to find not only an academically challenging environment, but also — perhaps more importantly — a community. This meant transferring the family from Drumfield to Kingston. And while there was concern about Max, we all believed that given his sociable nature, moving would be far less impactful on him than staying put might be on me.
I was ecstatic to discover a group of students with whom I shared interests and could truly engage. Preoccupied with new friends and a rigorous course load, I failed to notice that the tables had turned. Max, lost in the fray and grappling with how to make connections in his enormous new high school, had become withdrawn and lonely. It took me until Christmas time — and a massive argument — to recognize how difficult the transition had been for my brother, let alone that he blamed me for it. Through my own journey of searching for academic peers, in addition to coming out as gay when I was 12, I had developed deep empathy for those who had trouble fitting in. It was a pain I knew well and could easily relate to. In my heart, though, I knew that regardless of who had made the decision, we ended up in Kingston for my benefit.
I was ashamed that, while I saw myself as genuinely compassionate, I had been oblivious to the heartache of the person closest to me. We stayed up half the night talking, and the conversation took an unexpected turn. He told me how challenging school had always been for him, due to his dyslexia, and that the ever-present comparison to me had only deepened his pain. We had been in parallel battles the whole time and, yet, I only saw that Max was in distress once he experienced problems with which I directly identified. I am acutely grateful for the conversations he and I shared around all of this, because I believe our relationship has been fundamentally strengthened by a deeper understanding of one another.
Further, this experience has reinforced the value of constantly striving for deeper sensitivity to the hidden struggles of those around me. You just have to be clear and say something that matters. This essay is simple and beautiful. It almost feels like having a conversation with a friend and learning that they are an even better person than you already thought they were. We also learn a lot about their values—notably, the value they place on awareness, improvement, and consideration of others. Though they never explicitly state it which is great because it is still crystal clear!
The only part of this essay that could use a bit of work is the introduction. A short introduction can be effective, but this short first paragraph feels thrown in at the last minute and like it is missing its second half. If you are keeping your introduction short, make it matter. Was I no longer the beloved daughter of nature, whisperer of trees? Knee-high rubber boots, camouflage, bug spray—I wore the garb and perfume of a proud wild woman, yet there I was, hunched over the pathetic pile of stubborn sticks, utterly stumped, on the verge of tears. As a child, I had considered myself a kind of rustic princess, a cradler of spiders and centipedes, who was serenaded by mourning doves and chickadees, who could glide through tick-infested meadows and emerge Lyme-free.
I knew the cracks of the earth like the scars on my own rough palms. Yet here I was, ten years later, incapable of performing the most fundamental outdoor task: I could not, for the life of me, start a fire. Furiously I rubbed the twigs together—rubbed and rubbed until shreds of skin flaked from my fingers. No smoke. The twigs were too young, too sticky-green; I tossed them away with a shower of curses, and began tearing through the underbrush in search of a more flammable collection. My efforts were fruitless. Livid, I bit a rejected twig, determined to prove that the forest had spurned me, offering only young, wet bones that would never burn.
But the wood cracked like carrots between my teeth—old, brittle, and bitter. Roaring and nursing my aching palms, I retreated to the tent, where I sulked and awaited the jeers of my family. Rattling their empty worm cans and reeking of fat fish, my brother and cousins swaggered into the campsite. Immediately, they noticed the minor stick massacre by the fire pit and called to me, their deep voices already sharp with contempt. My face burned long after I left the fire pit. The camp stank of salmon and shame.
In the tent, I pondered my failure. Was I so dainty? Was I that incapable? I thought of my hands, how calloused and capable they had been, how tender and smooth they had become. Crawling along the edge of the tent, a spider confirmed my transformation—he disgusted me, and I felt an overwhelming urge to squash him. I still eagerly explored new worlds, but through poems and prose rather than pastures and puddles. That night, I stayed up late with my journal and wrote about the spider I had decided not to kill. When the night grew cold and the embers died, my words still smoked—my hands burned from all that scrawling—and even when I fell asleep, the ideas kept sparking—I was on fire, always on fire. This Common App essay is well-written. The student is showing the admissions officers their ability to articulate their points beautifully and creatively.
In addition to being well-written, this essay is thematically cohesive. Quite simply, this essay shows how quality writing can make a simple story outstandingly compelling. When I was younger, I was adamant that no two foods on my plate touch. As a result, I often used a second plate to prevent such an atrocity. In many ways, I learned to separate different things this way from my older brothers, Nate and Rob. Growing up, I idolized both of them. Nate was a performer, and I insisted on arriving early to his shows to secure front row seats, refusing to budge during intermission for fear of missing anything. Rob was a three-sport athlete, and I attended his games religiously, waving worn-out foam cougar paws and cheering until my voice was hoarse.
My brothers were my role models. To me, they represented two contrasting ideals of what I could become: artist or athlete. I believed I had to choose. And for a long time, I chose athlete. I played soccer, basketball, and lacrosse and viewed myself exclusively as an athlete, believing the arts were not for me. I conveniently overlooked that since the age of five, I had been composing stories for my family for Christmas, gifts that were as much for me as them, as I loved writing. So when in tenth grade, I had the option of taking a creative writing class, I was faced with a question: could I be an athlete and a writer? After much debate, I enrolled in the class, feeling both apprehensive and excited. When I arrived on the first day of school, my teacher, Ms. Jenkins, asked us to write down our expectations for the class.
I just want this to be a place where I can write freely. For the first two submission days, I had passed the time editing earlier pieces, eventually pretty quickly resorting to screen snake when hopelessness made the words look like hieroglyphics. I must not have been as subtle as I thought, as on the third of these days, Ms. Jenkins approached me.
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