If you are one of those students who is currently working on your application essay and couldn’t seem to find a breakthrough, here is a little help. The following is an essay that got into Harvard University. Read this essay very carefully and analyze it yourself about the writing structure, storytelling and use of words. This will certainly help you in many ways.
However, remember these essays are strictly for reference only. Any form of copying or imitation is considered plagiarism and hence severely punished by admission officers. This essay is very popular and has been around for a very long time. Therefore, the admission officers are VERY familiar with them. Again, do NOT copy or imitate anything from these essays if you want to succeed.
” When I was little my father used to play a game with me driving home. Its main substance was something like this: he would say, oh no, I seem to be lost; how shall we get home? And then he would ask, which way? Gleefully, I would crane my neck above the seat; according to the game, his befuddlement was hopeless, and I alone as navigator could bring us home. No doubt I seemed contrary as I directed him further and further down back streets, but my secret incentive was exploration. As a small child there is very little one can control in one’s world; to have control over an entire grown-up – not to mention a whole car – was tremendously appealing. The real allure, though, was in going the “wrong” way – as soon as we turned left where we usually turned right, the world was so brand new it might have only appeared the moment we rounded the corner. My heart would beat below my throat as I gave the direction to turn, stretching my neck from my place in the backseat, eager and afraid: suppose I did really get us lost? The secret desire to discover always won out over the fear, but I can still recall the flutter of my heart on the inside of my ribs as I navigated the roundabout connections which was as mysterious as the Northwest Passage, lone link between the cul-de-sacs.
Exploration was a quest I took to heart; alone, I would set out on expeditions into our back yard, or down the street, creating a mental map concentric to our doorstep. Discovery bloomed magical for me; marked on the map were the locations of abandoned tree houses, bell=blue flowers and plants with flat powdery leaves the size of silver dollars.
The other night it fell to my brother and me to return a movie. After we left it on the counter, though, our sense of adventure got the better of us. Oh dear, I said, I seemed to be lost. Where shall I go? Eager to discover the town which smoldered at one o’clock under the orange and violet of sodium street lamps, he chose the road less traveled, at least by our wheels.
We wound into the pine forest in the dead of night; moonlight feel eerie across our laps, stated by tree trunks. I crested a hill slowly: Monterey spread in a lighted grid below us, down to the darkening sea.
Above, the Milky Way sprang apart and arched like a dance. I angled my ear for a moment to Gatsby’s tuning fork, that pure, enticing tone that echoes from the spheres. Think, remember, I wished upon him, what it is to explore, and the explorer’s incentive: discovery.
“Which way?” I asked him, and he grinned slowly, moonlight glinting far-off mischief in his eyes. The streets spread orthogonal before us; the pure realm of possibility opened from them.
“Straight ahead,” he said, and I smiled. “