Sample Personal Statement #1

In the Allegheny National Forest on a remote section of the North Country National Scenic Trail, there is a set of eight steps that descend to the shallow crossing of a nameless stream.  I built those steps.

This summer I lived and volunteered for a month for the National Forest Service in Northwestern Pennsylvania.  By chance I was chosen to work, with nine other strangers, on a secluded trail in the Allegheny National Forest.  The section was an absolute mess when we arrived, the trail itself being an overgrown, rutted, root-filled, eroded, steep, and generally unsafe travesty of trail building and maintenance.  Since the strategy that we adopted in an attempt to fix these problems was to divide and conquer, I found myself in a group of three tasked to engineer and construct a stone staircase at a particularly steep part of the path directly above a stream.  We hastily picked out ten aesthetically pleasing, reasonably sturdy rocks and began to tear up the hillside and place stones as we went, letting each stone lay on top of the previous one to stabilize it as a stepping surface.  After nine hours of hard labor in the heat and crushing humidity, we stepped back to admire our creation. 

The following day the trail foreman, our boss, came by to inspect our work.  He was immediately impressed with the beauty of the project; he was equally unimpressed by the structural integrity of the staircase.  He proceeded to mercilessly rip each step out of the ground with one hand, tossing them into the streambed where they shattered into hundreds of irrevocable pieces as I visibly struggled to hold back my tears. 
 
“Do it again.  But this time do it right.”

For our second attempt, instead of 40-60 pound rocks, we selected 350-500 pound behemoths.  This meant that we had to spend approximately six hours per rock just to painstakingly roll them into place using three unwieldy, iron levers called rock-bars.  It took us nine days, nine hours a day, of impossibly strenuous labor to finally finish that staircase, but when we were done there was no way any mortal being, nor flood of any proportion, could dislodge a single one of those rocks.  The trail foreman came back the next day and gave us the coveted seal of approval.  I had never been more proud of anything in my entire life.  Not even close. 

Until that moment, I was ignorant of the true definition of excellence.  I had long associated the word with functionality, and while it’s true that for a thing to be excellent it has to be functional, excellence is something far beyond that.  It is often characterized by a variety of factors, but in reality it is somewhat ineffable­­—hard to define beyond a feeling of accomplishment and finality one gets upon the attainment of it.  It is a feeling that asserts the caliber of the achievement and affirms beyond reasonable doubt that this creation is indeed a work of excellence.  By equating excellence and functionality, I had put a cap on my abilities.  I believed that there was no point in putting more work in if in the end it was the same result.  However, this change in perception—those eight rocks—taught me the real purpose of greatness and how to achieve it.  No longer will I be able to accept passable as a substitute for distinction. 

When I came home from Pennsylvania, some three weeks of hard work later, I began to pursue excellence obsessively.  I read, I wrote, I practiced, I listened, and I studied.  I was trying to build my next staircase, and I have no intention of stopping.

If you find yourself hiking the North Country Trail next spring and you come to a set of eight, lonely steps leading to a stream crossing, walk them confidently; you’re on solid ground.

Sample Personal Statement #2

To feel a part of something bigger than yourself is one of the most empowering emotions ever. I experienced this when walking in a Black Lives Matter protest in New York City. While growing up in New York, I had never personally encountered blatant or violent racism like these victims of police brutality had, but I had experienced the long-term effect of micro-aggressions and interracial misunderstanding. So when I stood shoulder to shoulder with thousands of New Yorkers who looked nothing like me, I was filled with hope because my immediate community recognized the urgent call to all for social action.

My own call to action began years earlier as I made the transition from middle to high school. Before freshman year, I was only familiar with the Upper West Side and Harlem. So when I travelled a mere 3.7 miles to Chapin, my new school on the Upper East Side, I was stunned to encounter a completely foreign culture.

During the first weeks of school, I felt like an outsider amongst my new friends because of the color of my skin. In one conversation, we compared the small changes we’d have to make to our appearances to look more like actress Blake Lively, our image of physical perfection. One friend commented on changing the shape of her nose. Another mentioned lightening her eyes one shade of blue. Then I realized I must be the least beautiful of all because I would have to endure the most drastic changes. Over time, I observed my classmates’ carefully constructed facades and materialistic mindsets and started to lose faith in the possibility of true friendships here. But I am not one to give up easily. By continuing to meet the girls with my innate curiosity and open mind, I eventually discovered our common humanity and formed authentic, gratifying, and invaluable relationships. I now recognize that going to Chapin was one of the most challenging and beneficial experiences of my life. It pushed me out of my comfort zone and strengthened my abilities as a student, friend, and leader.

Last summer I sought out an opportunity to pay forward these hard-earned skills as I helped develop and worked as a counselor at Fun and Friends, a camp for students of color, ages 5-12, who attend private schools in New York City. The counselors–all private high school students of color–cultivated an environment where campers could see role models who looked like them.
As a counselor, I facilitated a lesson on education activist Malala Yousafzai. With the younger campers, we brainstormed traits we shared with Malala, and many kids walked away feeling more confident that they too possess leadership qualities. With the older campers, we explored Malala’s perseverance in the face of violence and discussed oppression and gender inequality. It was incredibly rewarding to successfully create a safe space where campers made powerful connections between the struggles in Malala’s life and the events and difficulties of their own.
After thirteen years of attending predominantly white, private schools, I wish a program like Fun and Friends had been around when I was younger. Getting to know other kids at school who looked like me would have eased the small doubt I felt of whether or not I belonged in the classes I had been a part of my entire childhood. And yet I can’t help but feel grateful for the lessons I learned while facing these hardships, because they inspired me to persevere through tough situations, reach past differences to commonalities, and act on my deep passion for racial equality.

Bob Dylan once sang, “Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.” When it comes to the painful obstacles I will face in my life, I am determined not to feel that rain. Rather, I will only allow it to get me wet as I work to help my community survive, thrive, and grow. 

Sample Personal Statement #3

My hands grip the edge of the block.  The beeper sounds, and I explode off.  After a streamlined glide, I rise to the surface, each stroke as automatic as a breath.

For most of my life, the swim club was my world. The pool was where I found friendship, developed confidence, and learned the undeniable power of brutally hard work.
During high school, I became one of the fastest sprinters in my group.  As a sophomore, I competed on a relay in the NCSA Junior Nationals in Florida.  I had never felt more accomplished in my life.

Shortly after this thrilling experience, my prospects came to a sudden and unexpected halt.  The sets I could normally do with ease left me gasping for breath and stopping at every wall.  I underwent numerous tests, but the results perplexed my doctors.  Even though practice only brought me pain and frustration, I still attended every day.

Yet my aspiration did not waver.  I could picture myself overcoming this condition and jumping right back in where I left off.  Amazingly, after a year of struggling, this finally happened.  The doctors discovered I had a condition in which my vocal cords constricted and inhibited airflow.  I was put on medication and my symptoms abated.  In a high school swim meet, I swam a personal best in the 50-freestyle and broke the school record.  I was back and should have been elated, but to my surprise, I wasn’t.

Instead of eagerly jumping out of bed to swim, the alarm for my 5am practice brought me to tears.  Instead of flying through the water, I now trudged through meets and practices feeling anxious and numb.  No matter how fast I went, I did not feel fulfilled.  Confused, I reminded myself:  I am a swimmer; this is how I earn success.  But then a different, more unsettling question crept into my mind:  If I am not a swimmer, who am I?  

In the midst of this crisis, my English class read and discussed Henry David Thoreau’s Walden.  I became fascinated by Thoreau’s ideas on deliberate living.  I examined my own life and realized I was not living with intention.  My efforts, no matter how astounding, were meaningless because they were no longer making me happy.  The lines, “Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves...” were an awakening to me.  I knew it was time to lose the world of competitive swim and abandon my outdated identity in search of a new, true self.  So I finished the season and took a giant leap of faith:  I quit the swim club.

Released from the restraints swimming had placed on me, I felt wonderfully free.  I stopped living like a machine and started living with curiosity and an open heart.  Over the summer, I happily gave my full effort to volunteering as a counselor at an animal shelter day camp.  Senior year, I challenged myself in difficult classes and achieved more than I ever thought possible.  Most importantly, I spent time with the people I love.  My relationships with close friends and family deepened immensely.  I cherished the long conversations with my dad and silly jokes with my sister and no longer took those moments for granted.

Looking back on my experience as a swimmer, I feel proud of all that I accomplished.  But ironically, the lesson I feel most grateful for is what I learned from quitting swim:  that sometimes the only way to evolve into our new selves is to step away from the old world that has defined us.  Having done it once, I know I won’t ever be afraid to do it again.  Though I hope my journey toward self-discovery is one that will never end, I do feel I am getting closer each day to my destination.

Sample Personal Statement #4

A happy couple splashing on a tropical beach.  A delicious-looking pasta dish at a fancy restaurant.  A pretty girl made into a gorgeous model through Photoshop.  A well-built guy showing off his impressive six-pack.  A new, expensive watch worn on the wrist of one who can afford it.

This is a large part of my generation’s social media experience.  Everywhere we look, we’re bombarded by images of people living exotic lifestyles who have more, do more, and look better.  As we scroll through these carefully curated moments of other’s lives, we become disconnected from our own lives and feelings.  Worse, we’re left feeling inferior – wishing we could be like “them.”

Throughout my teenage years, I’ve watched this affect people around me.  My best friend lied because he felt the need to portray a glorified image of himself to everybody, even me.  My first real girlfriend developed anorexia after letting those photos on Instagram convince her she was a little heavy.  Even I got caught up in it, staring at the cool clothing friends posted online and then begging my parents to buy me the same.  Materialism and vanity have always existed, but social media has provided new platforms for both to thrive.  And as we insistently strive to turn away from anything negative in our virtual lives, we often do the same in our real lives.
Watching my generation struggle to find itself amidst an emerging culture that prized following others, I spent a lot of time exploring this irony through graphic art, screenwriting, and playing and writing music.  By the time I became a junior, I felt ready to use my creativity to start a public conversation.  So I founded a company that makes and sells clothes with a message.

For my first design, I did a simple line drawing of an eye with three tears on a white background.  I decided to embroider it onto a quintessentially male accessory:  the baseball cap.  On the back, I added the tagline, “You’re still cool if you cry.”  Through this piece, I wanted to encourage people, especially men, to understand that it’s healthy and normal to embrace negative feelings just as much as they do positive.  I then wanted to broaden the conversation, so I created a new design to be embroidered in black onto a white shirt:  five hand-drawn faces, each with a different mouth to indicate a different emotion:  happiness, sadness, confusion, complacency, and emptiness.  I hoped to convey that by wearing our feelings literally on our chest we can embrace and make peace with all aspects of our human experience.

Now it was time to move from the design to production phase.  I gathered money I’d saved, purchased the blank shirts and hats, and hired a company to embroider them.  Next I brought together an aspiring model and young photographer to capture images for the website, which I designed myself. When I finally launched, I sold the merchandise through the website and in person.  I discovered that people liked the clothing because of its simply drawn style and it’s equally simple message.  And I’m proud to say I sold my entire inventory and made back my initial investment.

Those happy couples on tropical beaches, those delicious meals, those fancy watches will always be right there in our phones and in our computers, waiting to be admired; the only difference is we can change how we see them and lessen their impact.  Through my company, I didn’t just make art for myself, I made art to ask questions and generate conversation.  At the same time, I gained experience in entrepreneurship and business, learning how to combine art with social commentary to create a marketable product.  Ultimately, my company has inspired in me a passionate desire to continue creating, questioning, learning, and thinking.  As Kanye West once tweeted:  “Maximum expression while I have air in my lungs.”

Sample Statement #5

I am cruising down the freeway in the green ‘71 Nova I just bought with my entire life’s savings when I hear a loud pop followed by banging. Right off, I know my tire has blown. Though I have not had the Nova for long, she is not lovin’ me tonight.

When the tow truck arrives, the Hispanic driver sees my car and smiles from ear to ear.
“Oh man, is that a Nova?”

I nod and smile back.

“My cousin had the same exact car, same exact color.”

As he opens my trunk to check the spare tire, a huge smile spreads across his face.

“It smells like my childhood.”

As the driver tows me, he laughs as he explains that in Spanish “no va” means “no go,” and then I get his entire life story. As he reminisces, I see how a small thing like my car can take someone back to such a happy time.

Before the driver leaves, he tells me I made his day, and I tell him he made mine as well. Just like that, a terrible night turns into one I will never forget. And I realize that all it takes is a good attitude.

Not long after that night, I work my first shift at a little pizza joint called Tonino’s Place. When I arrive, I expect the owner to hand me a manual. Instead, she says, “Make yourself busy!” So I do. I throw on an apron, scrub a mountain of pots and pans, and get soaking wet in the process. I teach myself how to bus tables, clean windows, and pack To Go orders. Then I get very good at loading and unloading the dishwasher.

Over time, I come to love my job because there is always something to do or something new to learn. Sometimes when I have a moment, I get Mario, the pizza chef, to teach me how to knead the dough. If Yuri, the cashier, feels lazy, I take over and learn how to ring up customers. When the time comes to deliver pizzas, I pack the bags, load the address into my GPS, and away I go. No matter how much I enjoy working in rhythm with the team in the kitchen, nothing tops the feeling of handing someone a hot pizza after they’ve had an obviously tough day.

At the end of each shift, I put the chairs up, sweep, and mop. The toughest part of my shift comes last: the trash. I take a deep breath and hold it, carry three giant bags into the alley, open the dumpster filled with rotting meat, and fling the bags in.

It’s true that my job is not glamorous, and the average person might think it stinks. But I love it. Because during every single shift, I turn something bad into something good and make every situation fun for everyone.

When I go to college, I know I won’t arrive with 4.0 GPA. But I will arrive with other valuable qualities. If I walk into a room full of strangers, I can talk to anyone and make friends with everyone. Of the roughly 700 kids in my graduating class, I can say with supreme confidence that I can name ninety percent of them. When I have a job to get done, I give it my all. I am capable and curious, smart and motivated.

Sample Personal Statement #6

When I was nine years old, I stole my first book. Lucky for me, I wasn’t punished. Instead, I was encouraged.

The book, Tristes Tropiques by Levi-Strauss, came from the library of my Parisian grandfather—my mom’s dad—an accomplished psychoanalyst. Because my father has long been absent from my life, it was my grandfather who taught me to push myself intellectually, think critically, follow my curiosity, and enthusiastically explore art and culture in all forms. By the time I was twelve, we were having conversations about Heidegger, Nietzsche, and Foucault. When I was thirteen, he dared me to read Jung and Steiner. By fourteen, I spoke four languages while trying to catch up to his six. Throughout my childhood, my grandfather’s passions inspired my own and launched me on a journey of investigation, discovery, and learning.

While attending high school in Paris, I read Nabokov’s Lolita. The book astonished me. The prose was poetic and enchanting, dark and curious, and soon after I decided to attend a conference on “Nabokov and Happiness.” While there, I met a writer who was preparing a night dedicated to Jean-Paul Sartre. When I asked if I could attend, she thrilled me with an offer to be her assistant. On that day, from 7am to 3am, I worked tirelessly, learned vast amounts about Sartre, and even explored the themes of existentialism in the life of a teenager. Later in the week, over a Chinese tisane, I told my grandfather about the great minds I had encountered, from a Nobel-laureate quantum physicist to an illustrious writer who had mingled with Derrida and Foucault in his twenties.

During one of my adventures in the great bookstores of Paris, I came upon Birth of a Theorem. Intrigued by the jacket photo of the peculiar author dressed as a magician, I decided to immerse myself in the universe of Mathematics. The wizard was Cedric Villani, the Fields Medal recipient for advancements in the study of the mathematical properties of gas expansion. Inspired by the work, I wrote the author and asked if we could meet. To my great surprise, Mr. Villani agreed. Before this encounter, I was nervous, as I’d never found Mathematics as intellectually liberating as Literature or Philosophy. However, the unconditional curiosity that my grandfather had transmitted to me brought me back to a Zen state; in the middle of our conversation’s whirlwind of ideas and concepts, I was at home.

Not long after I met Villani, my mother, younger sister, and I moved to Los Angeles for my mother’s work. The hardest part was leaving my grandfather behind. As I rode my bike across this fascinating, multi-cultural city, I happened upon bookstores and dove into English language books. One day, while reading Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman!, the autobiography of physicist Richard Feynman, I was interrupted by the phone ringing downstairs. It was my grandfather in tears.

My grandfather was suffering from arrhythmia and needed immediate heart surgery. Because I was 5,659 miles away, the only support I could offer was to talk, and boy, did we talk! Like in the good old days, we discussed everything: my latest reads about quantum physics, his new Italian recettes, the state of the world, my impressions of my new home.

As soon as I could, I flew back to Paris to help him recover and care for him as he had always cared for me. I felt lucky to be able to express my gratitude to him for inspiring my curiosity, pushing me to challenge myself in every way, and enticing me to view each moment as an opportunity to learn.

Sample Personal Statement #7

I have a history with perfectionism. In junior high, I strived to be as well rounded as I could possibly be. I followed the phrase “be the best version of yourself” too literally, leading to a ceaseless drive to be the perfect track star, volleyball stud, ballerina, scholar, friend, and artist. As soon as high school began, something inside me started to change. I loosened my grip on the pursuit of perfectionism and started to focus on activities that genuinely interested me, challenged me, and made me feel alive and present. I shed activities that I no longer felt connected to, which opened up free time and gave me the opportunity to learn about myself and my understanding of the world.

In eleventh grade, I took my first video production class.  I knew nothing about making films and had little experience with telling stories through the moving image, but I was curious. On the first day, I learned the basics of lighting, sound, and mise-en-scene.  As soon as I learned which button turned the camera on and off, I was launched.

My first videos followed the rules of traditional storytelling. They had a beginning, middle, and end, recognizable characters, and suspense building to revelation. They were literal representations of the world as I saw it.

As I gained experience and confidence, I realized that filmmaking doesn’t have to be so literal. For my last assignment of the year, I was thrilled to be allowed to create anything I wanted and was eager to try something new and experimental. I started with a song and the idea to use compositions of people and objects in graceful motion. I wasn’t sure where the video was going, but I had a strong feeling that I should trust my creative instincts and let them run their course. Everywhere I went, my camera came with me: a construction site, a dance studio, a birthday tea, in the car, to school. My purpose over those two weeks was to capture everyday movement that I found compelling. I filmed my dad diving, a ballerina leaping, bicyclists racing, a globe spinning, bubbles blowing, my dog’s tail wagging. Each shot had the same visual line. I played with the images, fitting them together like pieces of a puzzle. Then, after fiddling around with effects and composition, I suddenly got the idea to stream the shots in reverse. The result was magical and instantly compelling. I was in awe.

With one small change, I transformed shots of common objects and motions into extraordinarily uncommon images with unexpected meaning. By freeing myself from the constraints of literal, narrative, linear storytelling, I allowed myself to explore and create visual poetry in which all assumptions about reality dissolved. Everything about life as we know it, even laws of nature, could be defied. I discovered that abstract, visual experience leads to reflections on perspective and life’s ever-changing essence. I realized that all my life I had been limiting my creativity by being more concerned with tactile perfectionism rather than the gripping concept. Artistically, I had been a painter who reproduced the world as I literally saw it. In video production, I could recreate the world as no one has ever seen it.

Sample Personal Statement #8

Draft Day 2016: after a ten-month-long, grueling offseason filled with constant practice, exertion, and analysis done to achieve perfection, I anxiously step into the tense room where my new season’s fate will be determined. No, I am not a football player, a coach, or a general manager for an NFL team; I am a fantasy football player.

Although my dedication to a fantasy sport may seem peculiar, the fierce competition, mind-boggling statistics, and powerful community that I have formed with my “league” of competitors are all very real. Every fall for four years, I have played in an ESPN-hosted fantasy football league with my nine best friends. As General Manager of my team, I spend fifty preseason hours researching all NFL players. I study the ESPN analysts’ top 300 rankings, read articles on bleacherreport.com, and participate in mock drafts to practice strategies. After filling multiple binders with research, I create a prioritized list of players and plan for all sixteen rounds of my draft to end up with a twenty-player roster.

During the last week of the NFL preseason, my friends and I gather on a crisp morning to hold our fantasy draft. Usually, we are a loud and comic bunch. Today, we are all business. After picking numbers to determine our order, we face the draft board and take turns choosing players for our teams. During the first two rounds, I’m thrilled to get the players I want, but by the third round, every player left on my wish list has been drafted. Now I must think fast, improvise, and trust my research and instincts. With each choice, I hear the banter of my fellow league members, “You’re on the clock…make a move…don’t mess up!”  After three years of losing, I know that the decisions I make now will determine if this year I finally become the champ.

Once the regular NFL season begins, our fantasy league is on. Each week, the commissioner of our league organizes our ten teams into five matches. Based on how our players do in real games, our teams are assigned or docked points for players’ successes and failures and winners and losers are determined. Every week after the Monday night games, I manage and rework my roster. When players get injured, I must improvise and get new ones through free agency or by trading with other teams. If starters are doing poorly but bench players are doing well, I must adapt and switch them out. If an older player unexpectedly retires midseason—yes, this happened to me!—I must do more research and replace the retiree with younger talent. Over four years, I’ve learned that in fantasy football—like in life—nothing ever goes the way you expect it to, everything can and does happen, how you respond to challenges determines how well you do, and the person who puts in the most work does the best.

During high school, I have played junior varsity baseball and varsity golf. I have also been a broadcaster for my school’s football team, which has given me a deep understanding and admiration for the game. But as crazy as it sounds, I have learned the most from fantasy football. Playing fantasy football has taught me to prepare, work insanely hard, adapt, and then work even harder. I am proud to say these lessons have carried over to my academic work. After underperforming in my freshman and sophomores years of high school, I realized the only way to succeed was to get organized, dedicate myself to my studies, and give everything my full effort. So I did. Junior year, my grades improved, and senior year, they keep getting better.

Sample Personal Statement #9

I’m standing in the middle of a basketball court, surrounded by 500 teenagers in full Sea Scout uniform.  My feet hurt, my palms sweat, and my head pounds.  I wait for the next command, hoping it will be an About Face because that’s the only maneuver I can execute without falling over.  But instead, I hear “Count off.”  The kids go down the line counting off:  “one, two, one, two, one, two.”  When it gets to me, I hear my own voice traitorously shout out: “Three!”

With head hanging low, I make my way back down the lines of scouts and join the other premature losers on the perimeter of the gym.  The average Fleet Drill contains more than 200 commands.  I’ve managed to get out on the third.

Except for this moment, I have always been a super capable Girl Scout.  I’ve sold cookies, camped in the rain, held leadership positions, and earned my Bronze and Silver Awards.  But when my Girl Scout troop became a Sea Scout Troop and I was thrust into drill, I met my match. 

At this point, a sane person would have given up.  “It’s not my thing.  I’ll just watch and cheer for everyone else.”  But giving up has never been my style, and my troop mates’ insistent belief in my ability to improve would not let me off the hook.  And so, instead of quitting, I dedicated myself to drill.  Every afternoon I dragged my sister into the backyard to call me in flanks, obliques, and to-the-rears.  Every night I studied my commands.  And every morning I marched around my high school, executing sharp left and right faces to enter hallways, one small, lone scout marching against a sea of smelly teenagers.  I didn’t do much for my popularity freshman year.  What I did do was get better.

A year later, I find myself standing in my second Fleet Drill.  If I was filled with fear the first time, I am filled with all out terror the second.  But I am determined.  The coxswain starts calling commands, and to my surprise, I execute them perfectly.  Other scouts start dropping out, but I keep going.  The ranks thin as tens and then hundreds of kids make mistakes and get tapped out.  Before I know it, there are only five of us left, surrounded by 495 scouts watching our every move.  At this moment, I panic.  I can’t believe I’ve gotten this far.  I’m sure the others are better.  I don’t think I can go on.  But then I get a hold of myself, push out all the doubting thoughts, focus my mind, and listen.  As I do, my body executes the commands.  And other kids start making mistakes.  Four scouts down to three scouts down to two.  Now it’s just me and the girl behind me.  Then I hear one more call.  And suddenly there is no one behind me.  The place goes silent.  The one thing that seemed utterly impossible has happened.  I’ve won.  And I am instantly embraced by every girl in my troop, screaming and whooping, as I cry in their arms. 

Sample Personal Statement #10

One muggy and oppressively hot summer afternoon in the 1950s, my Great Uncle Irwin and my Grandfather Leon knocked on the door of an inn in northwestern Massachusetts.  Irwin had come from New York City because he wanted to hear Leonard Bernstein conduct Beethoven’s 3rd Symphony at Tanglewood.  Leon was only there because he knew how to drive their Ukranian father’s car.  The inn door was opened by a plump woman who informed the brothers that there were no available rooms, but they could sleep in the barn if they wanted to.  They did.  Two generations later, Irwin was the only person in my huge family who understood me, because he and I were the only two musicians of the bunch.  So when I found out that I had been accepted into Tanglewood Institute’s Composition Program, I chose to spend the day before the program began in New York with Uncle Irwin before saying goodbye and heading north.

My days at Tanglewood were filled with ardent musical study.  I sat in on master classes with visiting composers, studied music theory for hours on end, and wrote the most music I have ever been able to get out onto paper.  I bonded with my fellow musicians in the program and created friendships that will last forever.  On the evening of July 15th, I was sitting in the dining hall when I got the call that Uncle Irwin had passed away earlier that evening.  I was devastated.  It was as if, in such a place of creativity and collaboration, the music stopped.  The only family member that I could deeply relate to was gone.  It felt finite; the double bar had been etched in black ink.

The following week, when the ideas for final projects were due, I decided that I was going to write a surrealist memorial to my uncle—a requiem of sorts—to commemorate his beginnings in the very place where I was now studying.  I named the piece “hot summer night [requiem for a passed new england evening]” and wrote it in about ten days as the music flowed from the ether of my imagination onto the page.  It was both the hardest and easiest piece I have ever written.  It took the form of three movements, which included electronically sampled crickets, a male choir, a string quartet, percussion, and a barbershop quartet that aimed to create a sonic world that would fulfill the memory of a man who found the greatest joy in music.  Although I faced many challenges with the practical production of the piece—scheduling rehearsals, convincing people to show up, even finding rehearsal space in a rain storm—there was nothing like the sound of the thirty-five musicians performing it at the final concert.  It culminated in a feeling of fulfillment like nothing else in the entire world.

Participating in Tanglewood Institute’s Composition Program was an amazing opportunity.  I learned how to be firm in my intention but flexible in my execution.  I was dealing with other musicians my age who had busy schedules in addition to my rehearsals.  I figured out how to coordinate and inspire people to give it their all while creating something significant.  I practiced humility while treating the piece as a living breathing creation, which fostered even more collaboration, eventually leading to a successful performance.

Though Uncle Irwin never lived to hear the piece performed, he continues to live on in the music.  He began his musical journey at Tanglewood and metaphorically ended it with the closing notes of my piece in the very same place.  The piece sings of joy, hope, and fond memory as well as sadness and the resolute finality of death.  My summer, and the piece itself, confirmed that music will always be a unifying and grounding force in my life and a way to explore and share my truth with the world.

Sample Personal Statement #11

At the end of a long day at school, I open my front door and am engulfed by darkness and the smell of stale cigarettes.  As I move past the clutter of plastic bags and old leftovers, my stomach growls because I didn’t have money for lunch. I turn on the kitchen lights.  Cockroaches scurry.  I open the fridge: nothing.  I look at the water bottles: all empty.  I open my backpack, revealing a pile of AP French, Physics, Chemistry, Pre-Calc, AP English, AP US History, German IV and Latin.  Tears start to well up.

My father is an alcoholic.  When I was in 7th grade, my parents split up.  For a while, my mom lived with a new boyfriend, but when I was in 11th grade they broke up.  She couldn’t find a new apartment right away, so she and I had to move back into my dad’s house.  From December 2012 until August 2013, I lived with my two parents under the same roof, but they wouldn’t speak to each other.  My mom stayed in her makeshift room.  She and I only knew how to argue.  My dad stayed in the living room, watching sport games, yelling at referees.  The worst was seeing him drink and watch pornography.  I mostly stuck to my own room, struggling to do homework.  I would start it but give up after a couple assignments and instead watch movies, videos, and even read until 4 am.  I searched for anything that would help me escape to another world.

Toward the end of summer, my mom had saved enough money, and she and I finally moved out of my dad’s house into our own apartment.  It marked the beginning of my healing process.  Our new home is clean, bright, and calm.  The fridge is always full.  My mom convinced me to go to therapy, both with her and on my own.  She learned to open up to me about her past and herself.  I learned to change the negative to positive.  Miraculously, we found our way back to each other.

My 11th grade was filled with parties and people who drank to forget.  I cared too much about what others thought.  But during the summer, I spent a lot of time by myself.  I reconnected with two old friends who are funny, affectionate, and care deeply about me.  By the end of summer, I was feeling more comfortable with who I am:  my body, my sexual orientation, and my own opinions, all things I had struggled with before.

Looking ahead to 12th grade, I saw an opportunity to start over.  I committed myself to eating well, getting enough sleep, and finishing all my homework.  I promised myself that I would fulfill my own potential.  I am happy to say I have kept that promise.  And many of my teachers have noticed the change in me, responding with encouragement and a newfound trust that inspires me to even greater heights.

11th grade was a sad and painful time for me.  In 12th grade, I transformed myself.  My days are now filled with hope, hard work, and a passionate sense of purpose.  With each new success, it becomes easier for me to be proud of the things I do and proud of who I am.

Sample Personal Statement #12

Spring break, 2009.  My dad offers to take me on a trip. He picks the city, Washington, D.C., and asks me what I want to see. I think I’ll like the Spy Museum or the space capsules at the Air and Space Museum. But what I end up loving the most is the empty, silent chamber of the House of Representatives. It fills me with a sense of power and possibility. This is where change begins.

At the start of my junior year in high school, I was discouraged to notice that my peers were not engaged in what was going on around the country and the world. So I set myself a goal to change that and founded and became president of my school’s chapter of the National Speech and Debate Association.

By December, I wanted to reach an even larger audience. So I got in touch with the presidents of our Young Democrat and Republican Clubs and offered to organize a formal debate between them. They enthusiastically accepted.

In the lead-up to the event, I wrote the discussion topics and determined the structure for the debate. I asked each of the clubs to create a five-person panel, research the questions, and prepare. Though I didn’t expect much, I was stunned four days before the debate when I arrived at school and saw the clubs independently had put up dozens of posters.

On the day of the debate, I anticipated an audience of fifty. So when 350 of my peers and teachers showed up, I was terrified. “What will I say?” I wondered. “Will I stutter?” Then I quickly composed myself and rang the bell to begin.

The first few questions about gun control and government-funded community college went very well. Both teams were extremely informed, and their responses enlightened the crowd and me. As we neared the end, I wanted to create a more spontaneous interaction, so I improvised the last question.

“Do you think the U.S. should accept Syrian Refugees?”

The Democrats’ panelist was the first to speak. He responded yes and explained why.

Then the Republican panelist—who happened to be one of my close friends—answered.
“No, we should not allow them into this country because a large percentage of Muslim Syrians are terrorists.”

When I heard this comment, I was shocked. The whole room fell silent and all eyes turned to me, the moderator. Though I desperately didn’t want to have to call out my friend in front of everyone, I knew I could not let this racist comment stand. So I asked one follow-up question.

“Do you believe that a religion is defined by its extremists?”

Before my friend had time to respond, the president of the Democrats Club asked another question.

“Does the KKK represent all Christians?”

My friend froze. After what felt like an hour, she quietly and simply responded.

“No.”

In that moment, she recognized her bias was indefensible. And I felt grateful that the record had been set straight.

After the debate, dozens of kids thanked me for organizing it and offered to help with the next one. I felt proud that I had fought to inform the students, encourage them to look beyond their individual lives, and accomplish my initial goal.

When I was a boy in D.C., I sensed the power and possibility of those working to improve my country. Now, as a high school Senior, I know the challenge and satisfaction of working to improve my school. Soon, as a college student studying politics and government, I will be glad to engage with a broader, more diverse peer group.

I don’t know if my future will take me back to that chamber that captivated me when I was a boy, but I do know I want my life to be guided by the search for unbiased truth and the will to stand against injustice.

Sample Personal Statement #13

Two feet, two hands, and a head found buried in separate bags scattered throughout Bronson Canyon in 2012. Two years later, a large piece of skin was discovered in the Bronson Canyon Bat Cave. Who was the victim and who was the murderer? What was the motivation? Why Bronson Canyon? These were the questions forensic scientists addressed in the Hollywood Dismemberment Case.

I have always been fascinated by mysteries. I have an unyielding desire to discover how and why things work together and what makes people tick. Compelled by Agatha Christie novels and biology lectures at school, I have uncovered my passion for learning about hidden connections and meanings that cannot be understood simply with the naked eye. This is why I intend to attend medical school to become a forensic pathologist.

During the summer before my junior year, I had the opportunity to attend the National Student Leadership Conference for Neuroscience and Psychology. The conference was ten days long at American University in Washington D.C. We listened to lectures, did labs including a sheep brain and cow eye dissection, and attended workshops that developed our leadership skills.  Through this conference, I learned that I love research and am willing to take risks to pursue knowledge. I did not know anyone at the conference and expected to have a difficult time making friends. At school, people say it’s weird that I love dissections, am constantly trying to learn more, and enjoy other stereotypically nerdy activities such as reading comic books. At this conference, my peers accepted my passions and actually explored them with me. I have never felt more comfortable and overjoyed with a group of people in my life.

Last spring, in chasing my passion for mysteries and scientific investigation, I emailed the LA Department of Medical Examiner - Coroner in search of a summer internship.  Because one must be eighteen years or older to work inside the autopsy room, I learned I was not eligible and expected this to be the end of my journey until I turned eighteen. So when I received an email from the department inviting me to their West Coast Training Conference directed at professionals, I jumped at the chance.

To attend the conference, I missed three days of school, but it was a worthwhile and incredible opportunity. The nine hours each day were filled with lectures from professionals about the physics of explosions, the handling of high profile cases, blood spatter analysis, the legal distinctions made in homicide cases, psychoactive botanicals, and so much more. I was surrounded by professionals, which was both intimidating and exciting. Many people asked my age and were surprised to hear my answer. I became friends with Homicide Detectives Sean Irving and Oscar Valenzuela who, at the end of the conference, told me that they wanted to keep in touch to see where I ended up because I had inspired them and given them hope for my generation.

So, what pieces of information finally connected to solve the Hollywood Dismemberment Case? The feet, hands, head, and piece of skin all belonged to one victim named Hervey Medellin. The murderer, Campos Martinez, was the heartbroken lover of the victim and a Hollywood chef. Medellin was allegedly going to break up with Martinez, providing a motivation for the crime. Lastly, the Bat Cave in Bronson Canyon was where the two had first met.

Sample Personal Statement #14

Poly Vinyl Chloride:  P.V.C.  Infinite in function, this plastic is manipulated by man to serve his immensely diverse needs.  It is the stone, the bronze, the iron of the modern man.  

I’ve always been intrigued by the mechanics of everyday objects.  When I was three, I grimed up my hands while shifting the gears on my sister’s new bicycle.  When I was five, I snapped apart an alarm clock to examine the gears and wires that made the needles click in wonderful precision.  When I was fourteen, I built an eight-foot wooden surfboard.  In high school auto shop, I directed a team of students on a motorized bicycle build. 

Another thrill of my childhood has been sailing.  I loved the feeling of flying across a lake’s surface and was amazed by the mechanics.  I wanted to understand the sailboat, to get to know its every detail and feature that allowed it to catch the wind so efficiently and propel itself forward so effortlessly.  

So I decided to build one.  A sixteen-foot catamaran sailboat.  In my backyard.  Completely by myself.  Completely from scratch.  Out of P.V.C.  

My project began with extensive research.  After settling on a design that ingeniously used very large P.V.C. irrigation pipes as the pontoons, I drew sketches, made lists of materials, and took the first of many trips to the hardware store.
 
Over the course of fourteen months, I became proficient on my new circular saw as I built a wooden deck, pontoon braces, and the centerboard.  I ordered “dos tubos de unos 16 pies” as the Hispanic salesman—accustomed to supplying thousands of feet of pipe for acres of farmland—laughed.  I built the mast, sail, jib, and boom, and as I aligned the ropes and stepped the mast, the giant wing that would propel my vessel filled with its first gust of air.  I was now near the halfway point.

That’s when I realized I had a major problem:  my 300-pound wooden deck was too heavy for the available flotation.  So I went back to the drafting board.  After some thought, I decided that the most comfortable and cost-effective deck would be a light net, enforced with climbing webbing and stretched over braces across the pontoons.  After a trip to the fabric and climbing supply stores, my mom gave me a short lesson on how to use our sewing machine.  Now as I cut and fit foam to finish the pontoons, wrap up the rudder controls, and polish the last bits of the boat, the maiden voyage draws closer and closer.  

Building the catamaran sailboat has been the most difficult and rewarding project I’ve ever undertaken.  Working from the initial idea and shaping it into its real form has challenged me to consider the technical, mechanical, and budgetary constraints before finding the best solution for each problem.  It has also been a pursuit of pleasure, and I’ve loved every aspect of the process.

Throughout the fourteen months, I’ve managed my time between the demands of school, internships, jobs, volunteer work, and other extracurricular activities.  I’ve also remained determined, even when those around me began to doubt me.  But to say I built the boat alone without the help of people and resources around me would be a false statement.  Without access to the Internet, my mom’s sewing lesson, the advice of hardware store employees, and my dad’s patience, I would not have been able to build the sailboat. 

Sample Personal Statement #15

In a society that champions individuals, I sometimes find myself searching for my place. Too often it seems the skills I have are not “trending” and the care with which I execute tasks goes unnoticed. However last summer, while doing an internship at Boeing, I discovered my skills are both beautifully unique and unexpectedly valuable.

My first day on the Huntington Beach campus, the air is filled with power and possibility. But upon meeting the seventy-six other interns–all socially timid, exhaustingly high-achieving students who enthusiastically discuss microwave lengths for fun–I’m intimidated. “They are so different from me,” I think. “How can I possibly fit in?”
Before starting at Boeing, I’d hoped to be placed in the Business Department. So when I’m assigned to IT Project Management, my heart sinks. I’m in a foreign place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, without the job I’d hoped for. However, as soon as I meet my mentor, we click. I see right away she’s an active leader who loves people. She’s just like me. And the adventure begins.

My main assignment during the internship is to reorganize the unpopular and visually boring website where employees share information. Eager and determined to improve it, I spend one whole day on Microsoft.com learning how to manipulate the site and another creating a new template. I add color, create folders, and even write a friendly user guide for the staff.

Outside IT, I join a project to help Boeing cut costs by evaluating which testing of materials can be safely eliminated. After researching materials and meeting with engineers to gain their seasoned input, I compile my findings and suggestions into a slideshow to be presented to the Executive Board.

At work, I bring my optimism to every task, collaboration, and interaction. Each day I put up a Quote of the Day in my cubicle, like Shakespeare’s “We know what we are, but not what we may be.” These draw people in and spark conversations as I offer inspiration and nurture a sense of community.

While at Boeing I also join a committee that plans events for the interns. I throw a fun beach party and find myself genuinely connecting to my peers. This proves to me that my skills fostering relationships are just as valuable as others’ skills working on satellites and robots, easing my earlier concerns about belonging.

To close the internship, we are asked to create posters to describe our work. While others’ are composed of computer screenshots and dry text, mine is a metaphorical image of a tree made up of Project Management vocabulary and Boeing executives’ quotes about leadership. The night before the presentation, I bake 150 cupcakes decorated in Boeing blue and white. The next morning, I walk in knowing I’m different. Embracing who I am. Feeling proud.

My time at Boeing was a crazy whirlwind of new information, challenges, and personal growth. I loved meeting professionals who took time to talk with me, deeply appreciated their encouragement, and felt valued when the Program Director told me how glad he was to have my smile, warmth, and joy in the office.

This experience changed my perspective on myself. It taught me that I do and can fit in everywhere, and that I should value the unique skills I’ve been blessed with that allow me to strike up a conversation, learn from others, and find the best in people. It also helped me recognize that differences can be great assets as we all strive to learn, grow, and contribute.

Sample Personal Statement #16

My job is listener.  Although most people think support lines exist to give advice, they don’t.  It’s against the rules.  Essentially, I just listen.

In tenth grade, I discovered TEEN LINE, a hotline that teenagers can call to talk about anything going on in their lives.  Never having heard of TEEN LINE or anything like it, I was surprised that it even existed.  A place for teens to call in to other teens to talk about issues that were mutually relatable sounded exciting and intriguing and like something I definitely wanted to be involved in.  After filling out the extensive application and going to my individual and group interviews, I was thrilled to learn that I had been accepted.

During my three-month training, my group met three times a week.  Initially I felt overwhelmingly timid, but I ignored my shyness and focused on my ambition to get on the phone.  We began by learning how to talk to teens; we learned to empathize, to normalize a caller’s feelings, and to reflect feelings so the caller knew someone could hear them.  We learned the basics of how to take a call and did role-plays on fifteen different topics, including pregnancy, runaways, relationships, self-harm, substance abuse, suicide, and child abuse.  Finally, I was faced with my listener’s test, a practice call with an intense scenario of feelings and events such as rape, suicide, and self-harm all at once.  After passing the test, I must’ve smiled for days.

My first official shifts as a listener at TEEN LINE were filled with anticipation and nervousness.  During the early weeks, I received many prank calls.  But over time, I also began to receive real calls for help.  Most commonly, I would talk to teens upset with their friends, parents, boyfriends or girlfriends.  One night, while on a text shift, I talked to Jenny.  She was a 13-year old girl who was depressed, being bullied, cutting herself daily, and crying herself to sleep.  I tried to help her understand that what she was feeling was understandable considering all that she was going through, and I tried to help her identify supports in her life.  Toward the end of our text, Jenny said she had to go but I urged her to call back when she felt ready to talk.  Before hanging up, she sent me, “Thank you.  I love you so much.  You really helped me a lot.”  That night, for the first time, I felt like I had done something of importance and had really helped someone in need.

Reflecting on my experience at TEEN LINE, I am surprised to realize how comforting and soothing I find each shift.  Working on a hotline takes me away from my own concerns.  It allows me to focus on how I can best support others, and I always leave feeling better than when I arrived.  Working at TEEN LINE, I’ve discovered that when a person tells me something they’ve never told anyone else, I feel an enormous sense of privilege and responsibility.  Taking these calls, I have admired these teens who are struggling but not giving up.

Sample Personal Statement #17

Onions, tomatoes, lettuce, celery, cabbage, broccoli, kale, cauliflower, Swiss chard, beets, carrots, turnips, potatoes, peas, beans, summer squash, winter squash, spinach, strawberries, and pumpkins.

Three years ago, my father and I took a chainsaw to the ficus hedge in our front yard to make room for a garden.  We built a large raised bed, laid chicken wire on the bottom, and brought in irrigation.  This was the second vegetable garden I ever had, and through much trial and even more error, it eventually became quite successful.

A year later, I came upon a book called The New Victory Garden by the late Bob Thomson.  Thomson’s practice of starting his seedlings indoors with special lights and heating pads inspired me to try the same. I built an indoor greenhouse for starting seedlings in the garage. In time, I became more independent and hardly had to purchase any plants at nurseries.

One year, my family visited Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello in Virginia.  There, I discovered that Jefferson was a botanist who cultivated three hundred and thirty species of plants, was a meticulous record keeper, and kept a diary with observations of his plants.  Jefferson and Thomson have taught me to keep records of my own seedlings and their early development.  

Although I’m a good-natured person, I have fought many foes inside my garden. When aphids descended on my cabbages, I sprayed them with organic repellents.  When snails ate my lettuce, I enticed them into dishes of beer where they drowned. When squirrels munched my new beet sprouts, I baited them with peanuts, trapped them in cages, and released them in the nearby wilderness.  But of all the foes my gardening has forced me to face, the ultimate one has been my own shyness and reserve.

After running a car washing business for a few years, I wanted to start a retail business selling my seedlings at my local farmer's market.  Though I was nervous about interacting with customers, I decided to give it a try.  

Early one Sunday morning, I brought eight plastic cell packs filled with pea seedlings to the farmer’s market. I set up my folding plastic table and displayed typed instructions for the care of the plants.  I was ready to sell, but no one stopped by.  I realized that if I wanted to attract business, I couldn’t be passive.  I’d have to flag people down and lure them in.  

Over time, I learned to stand out in front of my table and call out, “Vegetable seedlings for sale!”  Not only did I feel like the man from one of my favorite childhood books, “Caps for Sale,” but I drew in customers.  I learned to be more outgoing, traded growing tips, adapted to the market, and grew my business.  Like Jefferson, I learned to be disciplined about keeping records and documented my sales data, which I later analyzed.  And I almost always reinvested my earnings in my garden.

Coaxing seeds into plants has been crucial to my understanding of how miraculous and precious life is.  I observe how each plant matures in its unique way, its imperfections part of its nature.  I find a sacred lesson in each harvest that teaches me to try different practices and take note of what went wrong so I can improve the following season.  Gardening has taught me to meet all of my challenges with patience, perseverance, curiosity, hard work, flexibility, joy, and a willingness to dig in.

Sample Personal Statement #18

All my life, I thought it was good to be private.  Sure, the majority of the time I was playful and funny and outgoing, but whenever anything difficult came along, I kept it to myself.  I thought it was easier—better—not to open up.  But I was wrong.
During Thanksgiving of my junior year of high school, my older brother, who was home from his freshman year of college, had a breakdown that was triggered by drug use.  After being hospitalized at UCLA, he was transferred to rehab for substance abuse.  While my brother was in treatment, my parents would visit him constantly.  But I stayed home, lost, confused, worried, overwhelmed, too afraid to go see him.  While my grades slipped and I struggled to stay focused on school, I told no one about what was going on.

A couple months later, my brother came home from rehab.  At first, everyone was tense.  I wasn’t sure who he was anymore or what to say to him.  After being close when we were younger, we had grown apart. 

But, slowly, we began to talk.  He told me everything he had gone through, and I realized how much he had hidden from us.  I wanted to support him, wanted to help him break down the walls he had built around himself.  I wanted to reach through the walls I had silently and unknowingly been building around myself but was unsure how.  I discovered the best way was by just being there; sitting and watching TV together, even though in silence, I felt present and connected to him.

Over time, we opened up to each other, shared our struggles, built trust, and grew closer than ever.  Our relationship changed, and we started to check in with each other and seek each other’s input.  We got more comfortable with one another because there were no longer any secrets.  I learned how to stay open and accept him.  I discovered how much he means to me and showed him how much I care for him.

As my brother came out of his shell, I realized I needed to push myself out of my own shell.  I wanted to take what I learned from him out into the rest of my life.  So, after ten months of keeping my story secret, I finally told my school counselor and three best friends what happened with my brother.  At first, I didn’t know how they would react.  I feared they might judge my family or me.  But they were all supportive and loving, wanting only to help, and I felt a huge sense of relief.  I discovered that it’s actually easier and better to be open and not have secrets.  I learned that I can trust people and let them in. 

Sample Personal Statement #19

It’s a cool summer night and the 8- and 9-year-olds I coach in a non-profit soccer program run by the LAPD start to warm up.  As they begin their usual goofy chatter, I turn my attention to the starting goalkeeper, who is on his belly, actively avoiding any physical activity whatsoever.  It’s the same start to every practice with Walter.  It takes me five minutes just to get him up off the ground.  Watching him, I grow upset, knowing that he’s wasting this opportunity to become a better player.  What can I possibly do or say to make a difference in this kid’s life?

I had a coach who made a difference in mine.  When I entered my high school soccer program as a freshman, I met coach Darren Davies, who was a very funny, very competitive man in his early 30’s.  He was different from any other coach I had played for before.  He never told me to go out on the field and perform a drill; he went out on the field with me and showed me how.  During the summer going into my sophomore year, Darren had the trust and faith in me to promote me from the freshman team straight to varsity.  A month later, he shared the news that I would start for the varsity team.  His confidence in me filled me with confidence in myself.

Coach Darren taught me many valuable lessons.  During my freshman year, I received five yellow cards for fouls, retaliation, and yelling at the ref.  Under Darren’s guidance, I learned not to let any beef with other players, or my short-term frustration, get in the way of winning the game.  As a result, sophomore and junior years I got no yellow cards.  At a tournament after a loss, when my teammates and I started to trash talk opposing players, Coach Darren kept us in line.  I learned that even when emotions run high, I have to be disciplined and remain a good sport.  When we beat a tough team, I learned to be proud of myself.  When we lost to an easy team, I learned to look at myself in the mirror and think about what I could do differently next time.  Coach Darren taught us to respect our opponents.  He inspired me to make better choices.

One day, at early morning practice before school, the head of my soccer program called us all in before we started to warm up.  Our team knew something was wrong, but we had no idea what it was.  Then he delivered news that would change my life forever.  The night before, Darren had suffered a fatal heart attack.  I remember not being able to breathe.  Then I just broke down.  How could a healthy soccer coach just die all of a sudden?  It didn’t make sense.  I was mad, shocked, and just so sad.  How could someone who affected me so deeply on a daily basis just exit right out of my life?

Back on that cool summer night, as I wait for Walter to get up from the ground, I suddenly realize what I must do:  I must take everything I learned from Coach Darren and teach it to Walter.  I must set an example for him, reach out to him, make a commitment to him and see it through, and teach him the skills the way Coach Darren taught them to me.  In life, Coach Darren taught me to strive to be a better person on and off the soccer field.  In death, he taught me that I might not have a tomorrow, so I should start to make a difference today.  I plan to passionately carry that lesson with me into every day of my future and try to positively impact as many people as I can.  In that way, I can keep his spirit alive.

Sample Personal Statement #20

EL CERRITO STEEL AND CO. blares across the metal building, juxtaposed against the blue, five-o’clock sky. Click. I notice that the warehouse is made up of three distinct textures, all different colors. Click. I spin in my Converse to confront the graffitied train tracks in my viewfinder. Click. Satisfied, I climb back into my father’s car and think to my thirteen-year-old self, “I’m going to see it all.” 

Shortly after receiving my first camera, I began to document everything in my immediate environment. Sitting on my front steps, I watched cyclists and motorists zoom by while crows lazily composed themselves atop telephone wires. Later, my fascination with people took hold. Enamored of the idea of preserving authenticity in an art form, I began to understand those around me on a deeper level through the photos they helped me create. My camera became an extension of my body.

Now, walking through the world, I am drawn to color and vibrancy. A person with bright red hair. A green neon sign. A purple handbag swinging off a woman’s arm. These details make me feel more engaged, more present. Last winter, after a seven-year drought had rendered the local landscape brown and lifeless, an El Niño left the plants healthy and the rain spurred me into action. I dragged my friends to the Marin Headlands, camera in hand, seeking stimulation. Running down the trail, I felt the emerald and forest green hues practically seep into my skin.

Taking photographs and exploring my environment has propelled me into a cycle of discovery. Traveling all over the Bay Area in search of varied landscapes has transformed me. In San Francisco, where most see a city teeming with stories of urban success, I see those of displacement and gentrification as well. Commuting ten minutes from my comfortable East Bay town to Richmond, I see dilapidated houses, scarred neighborhoods, and plumes of smoke from the local refinery that stand as symbols of stark inequality.

One day, while riding a BART train with a friend, my teacher’s assignment reverberates in my mind. Fast shutter for bright situations. Slow shutter speed once the sun sets. Suddenly, an image is projected in front of me, and I know where we must go.
From the station we hurry to the bus bound for Ocean Beach. As we approach the water, the sky becomes a palette of pinks and oranges. Giddy at the sight of the turbulent water and vivid colors, I convince my friend to sit in the chaotic foam and swirls of the ocean. I plunge my tripod into the water and press the shutter button. This time there is no instant click. The sensor has to take in ten seconds of data, movement, and image. I look down at the display where my friend is calm, seemingly frozen in a torrent of motion. The roaring of the sea fades away and all I can take in is my friend steadfast in her place amid the ocean’s immense, natural power.

A week later I receive my grade and see a note attached from my teacher. “Lulu, You have much to offer other young photographers who are learning their craft. You have much to offer the world, which is still learning how to see.”

Sample Personal Statement #21

A cacophony of sounds emanates from the black box theater.  Inside, the atmosphere is frenzied as forty wildly diverse students attempt to prepare for our impending show.  Actors miss entrance cues.  Costumes droop.  Musicians play out-of-tune instruments.  A reverberating echo comes from the soundboard.  And backstage, everyone is afraid to go near the hair station because someone has lice.  When the music and theater teachers were called away by a student emergency, they left me in charge of this entire tech rehearsal.  How did I get here?

When I was ten, I learned how to play the clarinet.  In junior high, I loved music and participating in the concert and jazz bands so much that I taught myself to play the saxophone.  But when I began high school, there were fewer instrumental opportunities available, so I sought out other creative outlets.  As a sophomore, I took a photography class where I created the poster for the fall drama production and developed a close relationship with the theater teacher.  She encouraged me to get involved in the behind-the-scenes aspects of our school performances, and I happily took on greater and greater responsibilities.  The next year, when my school decided to put on a musical production of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing and my teacher offered me—a junior—the job of assistant director, I was both thrilled and nervous.

The school’s version of the play was to be set in 1940s WWII Sicily, so my initial task was to research key design aspects necessary to mount the show.  I dove into researching what American soldiers and Big Band performers wore during that era and looked for specific historical figures who might capture the play’s characters’ personalities, like using Rosie the Riveter as inspiration for Beatrice.  I stayed up late watching old, black-and-white movies to discover period hair and makeup styles.  Because our play would be a musical, I listened to a hundred different swing songs and chose two for the big dance numbers that would bookend the show.  We brainstormed inventive ways to integrate dancers and choreography with the music, like casting a trio to perform as The Andrews Sisters.  While directing the actors, I was captivated as we experimented with new ways to help the actors express various emotions.

Although my learning curve was enormous, I grew into my leadership role and actively problem-solved.  When we had more actors than available roles, I suggested double casting parts so more students could participate.  When I was bombarded daily with endless questions, I learned to be decisive.  When students lost focus, I coaxed them back on track.  When cast mates argued, I put on my peace negotiator’s hat.  When the lice problem occurred, I kept the student’s identity confidential.  When we neared the performance date and realized that the stage thrust left too little room for our audience, I suggested seating some brave audience members on the catwalk.  For every problem that arose, I tried to innovate a solution.  Every day was different, and most were not easy.

But as I stood there in the middle of that tech rehearsal, days before our premiere, engulfed in turmoil and uncertainty, I realized something amazing:  instead of panicked, I felt empowered.  I had learned that ambitious pursuits require hard work and creative risks, but they also lead to spectacular results.  And, as a member of a troupe, I had discovered that we are capable of producing something in collaboration that is so much more imaginative than that which we can accomplish alone. 

Sample Personal Statement #22

In chemistry class, I learned to determine a carbon dioxide molecule’s polarity by looking at the differences in the electronegativity values of the molecule’s elements. If the difference falls between 0.4 and 1.7, the molecule is polar. For carbon dioxide, the difference is 1.2, so I assumed it is polar. But when I investigated further and actually drew out the Lewis Dot Structures, I saw the dipole and symmetry of the bonds, which revealed that the molecule is actually nonpolar.

In chemistry, I learned it is not a good idea to make assumptions about polarities. In life, I learned it is not a good idea to make assumptions about people.

The summer before my junior year, I got my first job as a Starbucks barista. At first, it was terrifying. How was I supposed to memorize all the drinks, get the regulars’ orders down, and know that iced coffee stays fresh two hours longer than iced tea? Scariest of all, how was I supposed to relate to my coworkers, all of whom were older and had much more life experience? Early that summer, I questioned why I even got the job. After about a month, however, I learned to love it.

Working at Starbucks taught me independence and accountability. To land the job, I handled the application process, two interviews, and even the tax forms on my own. Once hired, I was the one who got myself to my 4am shifts, and I was the one who sometimes worked until 11pm.

Before I got the job, I’d always assumed that people working at Starbucks were not very educated. Once I started working there, I discovered how wrong I was when a coworker finished the New York Times crossword puzzle during his lunch break. I soon learned I was working with a woman who was fluent in Hindi and was supporting her daughter through Harvard. And one day when I complained about my chemistry final, my 35-year-old shift supervisor who was back in college announced, “I have a chem final too!”
Though my coworkers and I all took separate paths to our green aprons, come opening time, none of our differences matter. While hustling through our hectic Sunday shift, we are like an eight-armed humming machine, working together to warm muffins, steam milk, and blend frappuccinos. When the person making drinks gets overwhelmed, someone slides over to help. When the smiling face at the register can barely smile anymore, someone steps up and relieves her.

My store is in Santa Monica on Wilshire Boulevard, a border between the two sides of the city. The affluent north side is where celebrities and movie producers live. The modest south side is where teachers and blue collar workers reside. Due to this location, our store serves a wide variety of customers. We have the regular who once gave me $50 for my college fund, and we have the homeless man to whom we give a free coffee almost every day (don’t tell Corporate!).

Working at Starbucks has opened my eyes and made me more mindful of the community around me. I know now that I can’t assume a customer speaks English, has money in his pocket, or will treat me like anything other than a coffee-serving robot. So I’ve learned to respond with my best high school Spanish, my greatest compassion, and plenty of patience.

Just as I am proud to have learned not to make assumptions about a molecule’s polarity, I am even prouder to no longer make assumptions about people. I feel grateful to have learned that life is richer when we meet everyone with mutual respect and understanding. And I can’t wait to take these lessons to college, where I will arrive with an open mind, a curiosity about others, and the wisdom always to tip my barista well.

Sample Personal Statement #23

It is a sunny afternoon after school in third grade and my triplet brothers and I rush to finish our homework so we can play outside. After quickly reading a two-page story, my brothers are up and out the door. But I am still staring at the paper, frustrated that I have only finished half a page while they are both done. I know I am as smart as my brothers, so why can’t I read like them?

I am dyslexic. In my case, that means that when I read I add suffixes and prefixes, see words that are not there, mistake one word for another, and move at a terribly slow pace. After two tests confirmed my diagnosis, I was sent to a special education school to improve my reading. In the beginning, it was odd to be away from my brothers. The new school had only eight kids in my grade for one-on-one training. Given that the only way to overcome dyslexia is to read, the school got me reading all the time.

Because my skills improved, in seventh grade I was able to transfer to a slightly larger special ed school. I continued to work hard, and even though my reading skills were lower than a typical reader, my higher-level thinking moved me into the top sections for Math, English, History, and Science. Looking ahead to high school, I realized that I wanted to be in school with my brothers again, so I got to work and read independently for practice. Months later, when Loyola High School sent out their acceptance letters, I was thrilled that all three of us got in.

The fall I started at Loyola was the first year the school accepted students with dyslexia. I was one of the first and wanted to prove I could handle it. Loyola was different from my previous schools. My grade had three hundred-thirty students and the school assigned a ton of reading, lots of essays, and long papers to be written under quick deadlines. It was a huge challenge, but I worked twice as hard as everyone else, and I succeeded, slowly improving my grades every semester. After spending years separated from my brothers, it was great to be back in school with them, allowing us to support each other, take classes together, and share friends.

My brain works differently than other people’s. For most people, you can present a problem and a solution and their brains accept it. But if you present my brain with a problem, it insists on approaching it from every angle, seeking all possible solutions, and looking for alternate routes before it can settle down and accept the right answer. In school, this can be challenging because my brain jumps through more hoops and takes longer to process information. But in the real world, this can actually be a positive. This has been the case in computer programming. I have taught myself to create strategy and action games that I find interesting and fun. When I face coding problems and obstacles, I approach them in multiple ways. I sit and focus deeply, seek out resources, build syntax, and experiment for hours on end, never giving up.

Dyslexia is one piece of my life. It is a challenge I must overcome, but it does not define who I am. I define myself by being an active member of my school’s Programming and Investment Clubs, performing community service, and playing basketball and socializing with my friends. What is important is that I am making strides every day, and I am willing to work hard to support my growth. Through dealing with dyslexia, I have experienced the value of hard work, determination, resilience, and focus. I have learned what I am made of. And having accomplished all that I have makes me passionately believe that every goal I set is within my reach.

Sample Personal Statement #24

I have studied art history at Cambridge University where I deeply inhaled Rothko, Turner, and Abramovic. I have conducted interviews, written articles, and taken photographs for my school’s online newspaper, challenging myself to take risks and ask questions. I have collaborated with peers to mount shows in my school’s student-run gallery, curating exhibits, managing social media accounts, and happily sharing the art with my community. I have stood on a UCLA stage and performed the play I wrote about Andy Warhol’s Factory girl Edie Sedgwick, deeply moved by her tragically flawed life. But the moment that made me feel most alive was standing in the bustling street of a foreign city, hair drenched with rain, body shivering with cold, feet sore in high heels, but hands filled with one giant, glorious, butcher-paper-wrapped bundle.

It is spring break of 2014, and I am a sixteen-year-old Los Angeles native embarking on a trip to Germany for an experience that will forever change my life: a two-week internship at the NPR Bureau in Berlin. My job there entails helping with the nitty gritty of producing their first annual art auction/gala fundraiser. I create computer spreadsheets, communicate with artists, and run to galleries all over the city to pick up pieces. On this day, my job is to track down a particular artist at his studio and solicit a donation of one of his works.

As I set off across the city, feeling confident on the outside but nervous on the inside, I become distracted by children playing in a park and stop to take photos. Just then, it starts to rain, and immediately I regret my choice of high heels and Southern California attire. Dashing back into the streets, I quickly become lost. I ask strangers for help, but they just laugh at my pronunciation.

Eventually, with a bit of luck, I locate the building I am looking for. I walk up six flights of stairs, find the studio, and knock. When a paint-spattered artist opens the door, he has absolutely no idea who I am or why I’m there. Quickly I explain myself, and miraculously he invites me in.

That’s when the magic happens. As soon as I step inside, I am blown away by the graffiti-style urban art and messy colors that explode across the space. I am thrilled to see so much raw expression and can’t take my eyes off the beautiful images he has created.

The artist and I talk, through his broken English and my nonexistent German, and I plead and cajole and campaign.  At last, he agrees to donate a piece. A smile spreads across my face. The artist grabs a 4’x3’ canvas, wraps it in brown butcher paper, and hands it to me. Amazed, I offer enormous thanks.

As I emerge onto the rainy street, I am glowing with excitement. I know this painting will move everyone who has the opportunity to see it, just like it moved me. I know the funds it raises at the auction will benefit the Bureau in real ways.  And I feel so proud to have accomplished my goal and done my part.

I am ambitious in life and passionate about the arts. Everyday I actively look at and engage in the world around me. I think about characters and experiences and then create and share stories and images. I seek out real world opportunities and responsibilities and see them through. When I encounter obstacles, I plow through them with joy, nerve, and curiosity. By studying art, photography, acting, writing, film, and journalism in college, I intend to further pursue beauty, great stories and, most importantly, authentic truths.

Exploring the world. Going outside my comfort zone. Working with others to accomplish meaningful goals. Sharing what I discover. These will be the steps along my unique path to accomplish work of imagination and impact.

Sample Personal Statement #25

One of my earliest memories from childhood is being afraid to take the training wheels off my bike. I was six years old and terrified. After much convincing, I finally took my first two-wheeled ride. Soon after, my dad took me on a small mountain bike ride in the local hills, and I was hooked. Ever since, I’ve spent the last eleven years mountain biking and more recently training and competing.

This sport has helped me explore and appreciate the world around me. To me, that means learning the differences between suspension pivot points and dampening systems on the complex machine I spend so much time on. It’s seeing the history and the beauty in century-old redwood trees that tower above the forest floor. It's meeting other mountain bikers from distant countries and cultures and, although not sharing the same language, sharing happy experiences together.

On a 90-degree summer day, struggling up a steep hillside under the hot sun is not the most pleasant activity. But for me, this is more enjoyable than simply arriving at the top of a mountain. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Life is a journey, not a destination." Along the way, I’ve pushed my body to the limit for twelve hours each week, developed enormous self-discipline, and learned that working hard every day over time can produce concrete results, like winning my first downhill race last June and signing sponsorship contracts with major brands GoPro and Spy Optics.

Because I’m aware of the extreme risks associated with mountain biking, I’ve taken steps to make the sport I love a little safer. I’ve learned how to identify fractured clavicles and concussions. I’ve taken a first aid and CPR certification class twice to keep my knowledge up to date. I’ve stored mountain emergency numbers in my phone and always bring first aid supplies with me. While precautions like CPR certification might not do me much good if I were to get hurt, I’ve prepared this way in case something happens to a friend or stranger.

When I was just fifteen years old, my training proved useful. I was mountain biking at Big Bear, California, riding down an expert-level trail with lots of jumps. It was a quiet day, but ahead of me was one other rider, a man in his 30's. I was about fifty feet behind him when I saw him wipe out; I knew right away it would be bad.

Immediately, I blocked the path with my bike and instructed another cyclist to redirect riders around the accident. When I made my way down to the man, he was conscious and breathing but badly hurt. Making sure not to move him, I contacted the mountain emergency services and stayed with him until medical staff arrived. They concluded he'd suffered a spinal injury, loaded him in an ambulance, and took him down the mountain.

This experience shook me. It showed me the very real dangers of my sport. But it also revealed that I can contribute as much to an emergency situation as many adults. On that day, I felt proud to have made a difference. I know now that wherever I go, I can take decisive action as a committed and engaged member of my community and have a meaningful impact.

If I were asked what my single greatest talent is, I’d say mountain biking. Not purely because of my hard-earned technical skills on trails but also because of my ability to carry over lessons learned on the mountain to other parts of my life. Lessons about physics, nature, and different cultures shape the way I see the world, while my ongoing dedication to self-improvement and preparedness follows me into my academic studies and beyond. Now looking back, I’m so glad my dad convinced me to take off those training wheels all those years ago.

Sample Personal Statement #26

The iridescent chaos of Times Square in wintertime.  My guilty pleasure—coffee ice cream bordered by two chocolate chip cookies.  My dad and me—circa ’99—in which I struggle to free myself from the confinement of a pool floaty.  My Instagram captures moments and memories of my life and allows me to time-travel to some of my favorite experiences.

My high school’s rambunctious Red Tide under the Friday night lights.  “Taza’s New York City Guide” published by my favorite lifestyle blogger.  A young Afghan woman embracing a “National Geographic” journalist, captioned “#tooyoungtowed.”  Through colorful images and anecdotal videos that too live on my feed, I get a glimpse into others’ experiences.  My mind happily expands to become less myopic, more cosmopolitan, and engaged with the vast array of circumstances and challenges faced around the world.

My cell phone is my virtual window onto the world. It offers me an opportunity to reflect inward on my own content and to look outward on others’.  But most excitingly, it offers me an opportunity to create impactful content.  I come alive on the promise that, with a few simple clicks of a keyboard, I can change the world.

A few years ago, my aunt grew interested in the spiritual denomination of an Incan community dedicated to the teaching and preservation of the traditions of their Andean ancestors.  She had crossed paths with the group’s leaders, Rodolfo and Adolfo, on a spontaneous journey to Peru, and she ultimately wrote two books about them.  When she received messages from them, she would email them to me to translate from Spanish.  After helping her communicate with them for several months, I began to communicate with them independently and learned that they were building an institute in Cuzco, Peru to be a center for research and the teaching of their beliefs.  However, they lacked the means to successfully inform the outside world.

When Rodolfo and Adolfo made their first-ever journey together to America, I met them in Denver and spent a week inhaling the profound messages they breathe:  the importance of society’s devotion to the Earth and of conserving traditions like those of their ancestors.  After getting an intimate view of their lifestyle and values and receiving such a warm and kind embrace from their community, I wanted to help them spread awareness of the institute they were creating.  That is when my technologically-crazed mind decided to create a website to promote and inform about the Andean Masters Institute and the belief system that will be taught there.

I dove into the project and began to fill the website with images of Peruvian women in vibrant traditional garb, biographies of the institute’s masters, and descriptions of their mission, values, and vision for the school.  Before embarking on this effort, I had never imagined that my tech-savvyness would lead me to make a connection with a community 4,468 miles away.  But as I helped these people share and celebrate their ancient and fragile way of life via a progressive system of interconnected computer networks, I was thrilled to discover that I could keep alive the history and customs that mean so much to them through the modern advancements that mean so much to me.  When Rodolfo emailed me, thanking me on behalf of the community for my kind heart, I knew I had taken part in something truly meaningful.

I believe that technology is a beautiful thing.  It has allowed me to reach out and connect to others, whether they be the indigenous people of Peru or the colorful crowd on my Instagram feed.  Though many in society grow more afraid of our modern world, I grow more grateful for the new opportunities, information, and cultural enlightenment we now have access to.  I am excited for the revolutionary developments that will be made and cannot wait to be at the forefront of them in the future.

Sample Personal Statement #27

For as long as I can remember, I’ve longed to be part of the world of animation.  I want to dedicate my life’s work to bringing ideas, characters, and stories to life.  Everywhere I go and everything I see provides inspiration for fantastical characters, never-imagined universes, and untold stories.  When I draw, I express my individuality in the way I see and portray things.  When I animate, I am set free from the limits of the natural world and the law of physics.  All I need are my imagination, personal experience, training, and 10,000 hours.  This last piece I’m working on every day.

I’ve been drawing since I could hold a pencil.  At seven, I learned stop motion and took my first animation class.  I spent the next eight years making flip books and animating digitally in Adobe Flash (2D).  At fifteen, I enrolled in the New York Film Academy’s summer animation program where I worked ten hours a day, five days a week learning 3D animation.  At sixteen and seventeen, I taught computer animation to kids.  During my current gap year, I am studying art and animation to gain the skills I will need to succeed as a computer artist.

I am currently taking graphite/charcoal figure drawing and computer animation classes for four hours per day, five days per week. I’ve never been more challenged or frustrated.  I’ve never made more mistakes.  And I’ve never been happier.

In class, I focus on anatomical accuracy, varied values of light to dark, and gestural lines that capture weight and motion.  My style is refined, as I prefer soft lines.  In all of my classes, I am the youngest student, sometimes by as many as forty years. I especially enjoy receiving critical feedback and advice from instructors. When the teacher is busy with other students, class members rely on each other for help. I’ve learned to depend on my classmates for guidance and feel great when they seek me out for assistance.

Without a doubt, I genuinely enjoy drawing subjects that are visually interesting instead of aesthetically beautiful.  In class, drawing a muscular model lacks the challenge of visualizing underlying muscular landmarks.  For interest’s sake, I’ll take a fat, hairy slob over a Calvin Klein model any day.

I am proud to have arrived in a place where discipline is the driving force in every aspect of my life, including art.  I no longer wait for motivation to draw.  I work.  And I’ve learned that my best pieces are the result of both effort and perseverance.

I love animation because it is the ultimate form of storytelling.  As I move through streets, what I see makes me think and get ideas for what I might next want to create, model, and move.  I want nothing more from life than to wake up every day to do this work, collaborate with like-minded, obsessive devotees, and contribute all I can.  I hope always to be surrounded by artists who are better, smarter, faster and wiser so I am forever learning.  My greatest aim is to make movies that are thought-provoking, stimulate viewers’ imaginations, and pose the question, “What if…?”

To animate means to bring to life.  When I make characters come to life, and every time I learn something new, I too come alive.