(2015. These are the two essays I used to apply early decision to Harvard from my small public school when I was 16. They worked. The common app essay is a serious essay about my life; the Harvard supplement is a satire of the admissions process.)
Common App: I Am Going To War
I am going to war. It’s dark. My sweaty palms clench my rifle firmly to my body – a lifeline to me, the shears of Atropos to my enemies. My mission is short, but crucial, and Deimos seizes upon my doubts. I position myself, listening for my moment. Tension in the air is typically described as thick, but this tension is the thinnest feeling in the world; any provocation could shatter the empty space. The silence is smothering, squashing my breaths before they make even the slightest sound of release. My comrades and I share the same discipline. There is beauty in the unity of our intent. My pride swells in tandem with my panic, the two emotions spurring me to complete my mission, allowing me to keep silent despite the excitement of the moment. Hughie, a shell-shocked English soldier during the Great War, is thrust into battle.
These feelings of tension, anticipation, and camaraderie certainly apply to Hughie, who I played in last year’s competition piece, but they also apply to me every time I take the stage with the Case Theatre Company. The Company drafted me during my freshman year, when I made an early impression on the director, and he offered me a supporting role in the fall musical (I originally auditioned for “Candy Vendor #2”). From there, learning took on new meaning. I learned diction, crucial because my fast tongue and impatient brain often create stumbles. I learned how to speak effectively, to convince, to connect, to listen, to empathize. I learned to focus, and to use it to battle my constant state of distraction, like an explorer uses a vine to defy quicksand. Focus is difficult. But focus while a thousand eyes are themselves focused on me? Easy. Now, when I feel the tug of distraction at the base of my neck, I focus on giving a rousing performance for an audience of myself. I learned the differences among pride, confidence, and conceit, and did my best to express only two of them. Theatre enabled me to raise myself into my own capable person. While my father was winning Pyrrhic victories in his war against sobriety by adding Ambien to his wine regimen, my dreams became mine to pursue alone, without a commander to guide me. Theatre gave me the role models and skills that I needed to endure this battle. But, no soldier should fight alone. I needed a platoon.
The most remarkable thing to come out of my involvement in theatre was improved social abilities. I had few friends when I joined the Company, but theatre made building relationships my greatest strength. I can entertain and connect with large numbers of people and also bond easily on a small scale. The deepest bonds come from sensitivity and understanding and communication, three skills I developed in theatre. These tools facilitated forming real, bones-deep relationships with a variety of people. I have played the part of jock, nerd, music kid, burnout, comedian, and every other “role” you could name. With this ability, I went from being the little geek who skipped from fourth to fifth grade in the middle of October to becoming the class president. The elections in my school are largely popularity contests. But popularity, despite its connotation, is not inherently vain; for me, it reflects all of the work I’ve put into the important skills that theatre fostered in me. Theatre gave me weapons, comrades, and the ability to lead, preparing me for my next battle.
Harvard Supplement: The Iron Knight
At the third cock’s crow, the Iron Knight relents and abandons his trundle bed, although he usually doesn’t before at least the fourth cock’s crow. His eyes, squinting into the sun, are simultaneously intentful and open, sensitive and incisive. He’s ready for his quest to become a renowned knight, win favor from the King, and wed the exquisite Princess. In that order, because the Princess won’t marry just any Ulric, Baird, or Gawain. She’s what the townsfolk call a “reach princess.” He dons his iron armor and sets out.
After a few years of training, he’s prepared. In the Great Courtyard, many other knights practice. Those in gold and silver armor appear adept, which is worrisome. But the Iron Knight knows that the armor doesn’t make the knight. He has a fine chance; struggles in lesser armor can make the knight within more capable. They’ve all slain an SAT dragon, eldritch beasts so ancient that their original name is forgotten. They’re all well trained. What matters now is less what they are, and more who….
“Who am I? I spent my last four years training as a knight. History is everyone’s responsibility to preserve, and I dedicate time to that essential endeavor. I love debating friends on politics, despite our absolute monarchy. I taught myself to skate, and, in winter, I spend almost every Saturday gliding; my comfort on the pond allows me to enjoy the moment rather than worry about the action. I am a rabid consumer of all kinds of music. Music decorates blank silence as art decorates a blank wall. When I don’t hear music in my ears, I hear it in my head. I attend the Warped Tour every year, a travelling festival of rowdy troubadours. There is an inimitable thrill in hundreds of people ecstatically experiencing a shared passion. Sometimes, I get excited and scatterbrained, but it breeds creativity. The greatest ideas are often inspired in single moments of clarity. My dream is to win the Princess. I recognize the misogynistic ideas inherent here, but it is the 12th century and….”
“Are you quite finished?” says the good King, drumming his fingers on his throne of brick and ivy. After a nod, he looks down at a scroll. “Well, this all looks good… but I do have some concerns. One being your last name.”
The Iron Knight chuckles, and assures him, “There is no relation. Your name contains a superfluous second ‘m,’ Your Highness.”
“Splendid! I’m not for marriage within the family. I find it a repulsive royal practice, fit only for the Kingdom of New Haven!” At this, the King roars with laughter. “Still, why would I select you? Maybe if you jousted? Those boys behind you are All-Kingdom jousters. Why choose you?”
The knight looks around. In the Great Hall behind him stand thousands of golden knights, whose squires shine armor and write sonnets of praise. He says, “Your Grace, there are many princesses. But yours, with all she offers, is the only one for me. I planned on coasting through life on my abilities, until the dream of your Princess changed who I am. I focused my intelligence and creativity, which were otherwise spread thinly, and started working to better myself for my own sake and to win her hand. I thank you – even if you don’t choose me, because this journey has made me better than I once was.”
The King mulls this over. The Iron Knight’s eyes wander to avoid his royal scrutiny, and they fall upon the Princess. She gives him a nod, and then a smile. He first thinks Serenade her! But that seems excessive. The King and his Court will make the decision, and although the Iron Knight is uncertain of the verdict, he can’t help but imagine what he and the Princess could achieve together.
Beatin' Paths ~~~ The journey to the Great American Novel 