Admissions officers will often emphasize that they do not care what you choose to write about in your essay. They stress this because most writers err on the side of unoriginality, having tried too hard to meet the expectations of their imagined readers and discarding all of their own personality in the process. Of course, there is truth in their advice: You should write with the goal of expressing your own values and conveying the qualities most important to you. You should frame this discussion in a way that highlights your unique character. However, you must exercise your creativity with a definite eye toward the themes and points that will justify your suitability for college. Your ultimate goal is not just to stand out as a likeable person, but also to obtain admission to your college or university of choice.  

c.  'Hobbies and Interests' Essays

This topic is very wide open. You could choose to write about an extracurricular activity, job, hobby, or just about anything that involves a high level of interest and dedication. Remember, refrain from repeating information found elsewhere in your application or simply writing a laundry list of academic, extracurricular, and work successes. 

Focus on why the interest is important you, making sure to highlight its relevance to other areas of your life and what you have learned from it. Demonstrate passion, devotion, and leadership skills, as these are all character traits admissions officers seek in future college students. Most of all, be genuine--admissions officers will know if you are only telling them what you think they want to hear.

Well Done "Hobbies and Interests" Essay

Note: This essay appears unedited for instructional purposes. Essays edited by EssayEdge are dramatically improved. For samples of EssayEdge editing, please click here.

The sun is still asleep while the empty city streets await the morning rush hour. As in a ritual, my teammates and I assemble into the dank, dimly-lit locker room at the Rinconada Park Pool. One by one, we slip into our moist drag suits and then make a mad run from the locker room through the brisk morning air to the pool, stopping only to grab a pull-buoy and a kick-board. Coastal California cools down overnight to the high forties. The pool is artificially warmed to seventy-nine degrees, and the clash in temperatures creates a plethora of steam on the water's surface, casting a scene more appropriate for a werewolf movie. Now the worst part: diving head-first into the glacial pond. I think of friends still tucked in their warm beds as I conclude the first warm-up laps. Meanwhile, our coach emerges through the fog. He offers no friendly accolades, just a stream of instructions and exhortations. 

Thus begins another workout. 4,500 yards to go, then a quick shower and five-minute drive to school. Another 5,500 yards are on our afternoon training schedule. Tomorrow, the cycle starts all over again. The objective is to cut our times by another 1/10th of second. The end goal is to have that tiny difference at the end of a race that separates success from failure, greatness from mediocrity. Somehow we accept the pitch--otherwise, we'd still be fast asleep beneath our blankets. Yet sleep is lost time, and in this sport time is the antagonist. Coaches spend hours in specialized clinics, analyzing the latest research on training techniques and experimenting with workout schedules in an attempt to unravel the secrets of defeating time. 

My first swimming race was when I was ten years old and an avid hockey player. My parents, fearing that I would get injured, redirected my athletic direction toward swimming. Three weeks into my new swimming endeavor, I somehow persuaded my coach to let me enter the annual age group meet. To his surprise and mine, I pulled out an "A" time. National "Top 16" awards through the various age groups, club records, and finally being named a National First Team All-American in the 100 Butterfly and Second Team All-American in the 200-Medley Relay cemented an achievement in the sport. Reaching the Senior Championship meet series means the competition includes world-class swimmers. Making finals will not be easy from here: these 'successes' were only separated from failure by tenths of a second. And the fine line between total commitment and tolerance continues to produce friction. Each new level requires more weight training, longer weekend training sessions, and more travel. Time that would normally be spent with friends is increasingly spent in pursuit of the next swimming objective. 

In the solitude of the laps, my thoughts wander to events of greater significance. This year, my grandmother was hit with a recurrence of cancer, this time in her lungs. A person driven by good spirits and independence now faces a definite timeline. On the other side of the Pacific Ocean, my grandfather in Japan also contracted the disease. His situation has been corrected with surgery--for now, anyway. In the quest to extend their lives, they have both exhibited a strength that surpasses the struggles I confront both in sports and in life. Our different goals cannot be compared, yet my swimming achievements somehow provide a vicarious sense of victory to them. When I share my latest award or partake with them a story of a triumph, they smile with pride as if they themselves had stood on the award stand. I have the impression that my medals mean more to them than I will ever understand. 

Life's successes appear to come in small increments, sometimes mere tenths of a second. A newly learned skill, a little extra effort put on top of fanatical training routine, a good race day, or just showing up to a workout when your body and psyche say "no" may separate a great result from a failure. What lies in between is compromise, the willpower to overcome the natural disposition to remain the same. I know that my commitment to swimming carries on to other aspects of life, and I feel that these will give me the strength to deal with very different types of challenges.

Comments

This student employs precise and vivid details in his introduction, including an opening statement that befits the way he himself feels on his way to swim practice: "The sun is still asleep while the empty city streets await the morning rush hour." However, he merely hints at what his passion is, using language such as "teammates," "moist drag suits," "and pool." Though it is clear how much he loves his sport, as well as how successful he has been, he offers a genuine point in, "I think of friends still tucked in their warm beds as I conclude the first warm-up laps."

The success of the essay lies in the great insight admissions officers can gain from the way the applicant discusses his activity. Statement such as "The objective is to cut our times by another 1/10th of second," "The end goal is to have that tiny difference at the end of a race that separates success from failure, greatness from mediocrity," and "Three weeks into my new swimming endeavor, I somehow persuaded my coach to let me enter the annual age group meet," show that this student is committed, hard-working, passionate, detail-oriented, and proactive--all qualities admissions officers seek in future college students. He states his accomplishments with humility, not haughtiness. 

The writer even goes on to explain how his swimming has meant even more to his grandmother and grandfather, who have been afflicted with cancer: "I have the impression that my medals mean more to them than I will ever understand." The final statement ("I know that my commitment to swimming carries on to other aspects of life, and I feel that these will give me the strength to deal with very different types of challenges.) sums up the essay's main point nicely. Had the applicant included this language prematurely, the statement would have been much less powerful.

Poorly Done "Hobbies and Interests" Essay

Note: This essay appears unedited for instructional purposes. Essays edited by EssayEdge are dramatically improved. For samples of EssayEdge editing, please click here.

For my thirteenth birthday I received three juggling cubes. Made of soft patchy cloth and filled with a grainy substance, they were perfectly engineered for quick, slightly inaccurate catches. After fingering them for a few minutes, I decided that, despite my lack of coordination, I would learn to juggle. "It's a process," I thought, "and I am a savant of logic; I can compensate for my physical inadequacies with my logical thought." To celebrate my decision, I tossed one of the balls up with extreme gusto and promptly missed it with equally unmitigated exuberance. 

I leafed through the book until I had a sufficient grasp of the principles of juggling. Feeling confident, I picked up the three balls and attempted to apply my knowledge. After several weeks of practice and hours of intensive analysis, I pinpointed my difficulty: the tendency of the balls to rush abruptly to the ground. I needed something slower. "Scarves," I thought, but subsequent near-catches with a broken lamp proved that a slower object wasn't the answer. In desperation, I dispensed with strategy, and instead began to throw the balls methodically. For the next week, I integrated juggling into my lifestyle. I would wake up, juggle drowsily, shower, dry off while juggling recklessly, juggle while lying in bed, and dream about juggling. My persistence became an obsession; balls danced about my head, cascades soared majestically over head, and swift pins flipped and spun in the corner of my eye. 

The aforementioned is the story of how my interest in juggling began. After weeks of intensive practice, I mastered first the rudiments and then the intricacies of juggling. When I could finally execute complicated trick sequences, it was official: juggling was a hobby. 

I enjoyed the change of pace, physical instead of intellectual, and the sense of power one feels when gravity is defied. The whizzing, spinning balls become an other-worldly creation; they move and dance in new and exciting ways. Once a dance has been mastered, I move on to another one. Whizz! Spin! I am the creator and the esthete, making and enjoying. Respin and back! The ball explores new territory. The once impossible is simple. Reverse and under! A ball goes through, and is replaced by a bowling pin. Smack! Reality hits suddenly and painfully.

Comments

The most glaring problem is the lack of a genuine voice. The applicant uses such unorthodox terminology ("…savant of logic…unmitigated exuberance…esthete…") that the reader suspects overuse of a thesaurus. The language is too formal and awkward. The statement, "…I am a savant of logic; I can compensate for my physical inadequacies with my logical thought," is not very believable, because most people would not think in such language.

Another problem is the poor attempt at humor: "After several weeks of practice and hours of intensive analysis, I pinpointed my difficulty: the tendency of the balls to rush abruptly to the ground." Though humor can be an effective device, this applicant uses stilted language that does not seem to be his own. He also refers to his own writing ("The aforementioned is the story of how my interest in juggling began.")--something that should not be done in a formal essay. 

The final straw is that the writer never makes a unique point, offering a strange conclusion full of onomatopoeia. Since this essay does not offer much insight into the applicant's personality or character, it does not serve to help his chances of admission.

Next Topic: 'Favorites' Essays