Well Done Personal Essay, with Comments

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Three times a week after school I go visit my dad. When I enter the hospital room where he has lain in a coma since his accident, my eyes often wander to the lone golf ball my mom placed at his bedside. Just six months ago, my father was driving a golf cart across the street that bisects the local golf course when he was hit by a car. He suffered severe brain injury, and the doctors have ruled out any possibility of him waking up again. When I look at him lying in bed, frail but peaceful as if he were asleep, it's hard not to dwell on the "what ifs": what if he hadn't played golf that day? What if he hadn't been behind the fence when the black Camry plowed into it? What if I still had the chance to ask all those questions that choke me up when I see him in the hospital? I can't pretend that I have developed enough distance from the event to draw conclusions about life, but I am already beginning to see myself in very different terms.

Ironically, through this accident my dad has given a chance to face reality head-on. Before the accident, my relationship with him was warm but fraught with tension. He never seemed satisfied with what I did and reprimanded me for every wrong step I took. He had strong opinions about my hairstyle, clothes, friends, and--above everything else--my academic performance. When I was not sitting at my desk in my room, he invariably asked me why I had nothing to do and told me I should not procrastinate. He stressed that if I missed my teenage years of studying, I would regret it later. He didn't like me going out with my friends, so I often ended up staying at home--I was never allowed to sleep over at other students' homes. All I remember from my past high school years is going to school and coming back home. I was confused by my parents' overprotective attitude, because they emphasized independence yet never actually gave me a chance to be independent. 

In terms of career, my dad often lectured me about which ones are acceptable and which are not. He worried incessantly about whether I would ever get into college, and he often made me feel as if he would never accept my choices. Rather than standing up for myself, I simply assumed that if I studied hard, he would no longer be disappointed in me. Although I tried hard, I never seemed to get it quite right; he always found fault with something. As if that weren't enough, he frequently compared me to my over-achieving older brother, asking me why I couldn't be more like him. I must admit that at times I even questioned whether my dad really loved me. After all, he never expressed admiration for what I did, and my attempts to impress him were always in vain. 

In retrospect, I don't think I fully understood what he was trying to tell me. These days, when I come home to an empty house, it strikes me just how dependent on my parents' care and support I have been so far. Now that my dad is in the hospital and my mom is always working, I see that I must develop the strength to stand alone one day. And, for the very first time, I now realize that this is exactly what my dad was trying to make me see. I understand that he had a big heart, even though he didn't always let it show; he was trying to steer me in the right direction, emphasizing the need to develop independence and personal strength. He was trying to help me see the world with my own eyes, to make my own judgments and decide for myself what I would eventually become. When my dad was still with us, I took all of his advice the wrong way. I should not have worried so much about living up to my parents' expectations; their only expectation of me, after all, is that I be myself.

In mapping out my path to achieving my independence, I know that education will allow me to build on the foundations with which my parents have provided me. My academic interests are still quite broad, but whereas I was once frustrated by my lack of direction, I am now excited at the prospect of exploring several fields before focusing on a particular area. Strangely, dealing with my father's accident has made me believe that I can tackle just about any challenge. Most importantly, I am more enthusiastic about my education than ever before. In embarking on my college career, I will be carrying with me my father's last gift and greatest legacy: a new desire to live in the present and the confidence to handle whatever the future might bring.

Comments

This essay does a good job of evincing the applicant's concern for others, confidence, insight, maturity, optimism, and success in working to overcome a very difficult situation. The student's language brings across genuine emotion without falling prey to melodrama. The introduction, though somewhat sorrowful, ends with a focused statement on how the accident has propelled the student to reassess himself, his relationship with his father, and his life in general.

The essay does an excellent job of building upon previous points and moving the reader toward the conclusion. The flow and coherence do not waver, keeping the reader's attention focused. The student is able to display how he has changed from a naïve, confused child into a mature, understanding young man ("I was confused by my parent's overprotective attitude…I must admit that at times I even questioned whether my dad really loved me…I see that I must develop the strength to stand alone one day."). 

The conclusion ties the material back to education without making the reader feel sorry for the writer. The student is strong, not dwelling upon the unfortunate nature of his circumstances, but rather focusing upon how he is using and will use his father's condition as a motivating force in his life. The piece ends on an uplifting note, showing the student's strong character and maturity.

Poorly Done Personal Essay, with Comments

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My appearance is not remarkable; when you look at me, you see a five-foot-nine, brown-haired, blue-eyed, 16-year-old high school senior. A sweater, long pants, and sneakers constitute my dress code; my ties and expensive shoes remain in the closet. As such, to those who do not know me, I am ''ordinary.'' Nonetheless, after becoming acquainted with me, you will see that my ''cover'' is no indication of my true self. 

I am more serious than most of my contemporaries. Frequently, I study in the third-floor basement of the Princeton University Library to avoid the incessant rings of the telephone, leaving only as the sun sets and trekking home for an hour via train and foot. While other secondary school students may tune to the hard rock of Princeton's 97.1 WPST, I watch Prime News with Bernard Shaw. If someone tells me that he or she does not understand the day's calculus lesson, I voluntarily explain it--even if that means losing all of a valuable 40-minute study hall. When the typical ''You don 't have to bother'' response comes, I say, ''Yes, I do; you don't understand it. Now be quiet and listen.'' Although for the past ten years I have consistently endured long, strenuous practice sessions with my viola, the thought of ending this ''career'' truly frightens me. 

Motivation plays a key role in my success. I suffer from a disease that affects many people: lack of time. Twenty-four hours in a day simply is not enough. Nevertheless, motivation keeps me going on the days when I wake up at six o'clock to go to high school, leave school to walk a mile to the train station, wait for the train, walk to my Spanish class at Princeton University, study, walk another mile to the Medical Center at Princeton, volunteer for three hours, and return home at seven o'clock to eat dinner, write an essay, and study for an economics exam. Still, I enjoy going through my daily routine. The thought of sifting through pages of scholarly works to gather information for a class does not discourage me; it intrigues me. A recent research paper for my A.P. American government and comparative politics class using mathematical calculations and equations to demonstrate biases of the Electoral College was not only, as my instructor said, ''without question, the best paper I've ever read'' but also an aid to my concurrent study of derivatives in my A.P. calculus class.

Conversations with me on current events will often result in heated debate. No matter what my position, I attempt to argue the other view--a habit that often causes me to alter my opinion. During the most recent presidential campaign, I spent two weeks at lunchtime questioning the best solution for deficit reduction. Of the four people who ate with me, all expressed their position on this issue: Cut government spending before raising taxes. I was also a steadfast proponent of this view. However, after gathering my thoughts for a few moments, I vehemently argued that while government spending should be cut in some sectors, taxes needed to be raised at the same time. I argued so forcefully that I and three others at my table now hold that the only way to maintain our current standard of living and cause significant deficit reduction is to combine spending cuts with tax hikes. 

Although my ''cover'' may not be extraordinary, I like to believe that my inside is unique and creative. If a stranger could imagine my habits, personality, and feelings just by looking at my face, of what value would I be? People are not their ''covers''; to judge them as such would merely be foolish.

Comments

The major problem with the essay is that the student goes out of his way to include information about his achievements, as if he were afraid to leave out any detail that might impress his reader. The sentence about his viola lessons, for instance, is tacked on to the second paragraph. That he enjoyed his research for his paper on the Electoral College nicely illustrates his scholarly bent; that specific detail is well chosen. He spoils its effect, though, by dragging in the additional information that his teacher thought the paper the best he had ever read. 

Another reservation is about the student's vocabulary. The essay begins engagingly, with an unassuming, understated opening that plays nicely with the idea that people can't judge a book by its cover. Fairly quickly, however, the language becomes stiffer and more formal. By the end of the piece, the student is presenting himself as a ''steadfast proponent'' of a view and ''vehemently'' arguing for his position. To write that he held a view and argued strongly for it would have been adequate. The essay would be stronger if the words were drawn from the student's spoken--rather than written--vocabulary. It's always a good idea to read an essay aloud: If the writer can't imagine himself ever saying the words he has put on the page, he needs to adjust his vocabulary until he sounds like himself.

The writer comes off as a pedantic overachiever. The command to a classmate to "be quiet and listen" makes him seem overbearing and impatient--qualities admissions officers do not want in successful applicants. 

Determined, I joined competitions, played in concerts, and wrote essays that were read in class. When Tim transferred to the A.P. class, so did I. I threw myself into class discussions, attempting to dazzle him with my intelligence and intrepidity. Making friends with his friends, I dogged his steps.  The essay is choppy with underdeveloped paragraphs and an unnecessary stream of consciousness. Though it is admirable that the student has become more involved in school and pushed herself to excel ("I joined competitions, played in concerts, and wrote essays that were read in class."), she has been pushed into doing so by others. The essay makes the student come across as impetuous, immature, and unconfident. The main detraction is that she lets the reader infer that she is easily swayed by others, particularly by men. This quality leads admissions officers to infer that the student could be swayed just as easily into dangerous activities and be unable to make mature decisions for her own self protection. Though admissions officers would appreciate the honesty, the student should have left out some of the intimate details of her personal life.