Most people find writing essays for college applications a chore, but I found joy in them, somehow. I suppose I had to, if only to keep me writing and keep me sane. But every essay I wrote was a foray into who I was.
So here's the essay that I used for my common application, meaning every college I applied to saw this - and some of them asked me about it.
Wait and See
You see that child? Yes, that one –
the only one in the throng of five-year-olds who isn’t wearing a traditional
princess dress. She’s dressed as Jasmine, because Jasmine is the only Disney
princess who wears pants, and hence, the only one with enough mobility to have
a good time – which she does not hesitate to do. Her brightly sequined, loudly
jingling top and pants allow her to be almost everywhere at once, chattering
away with her friends or organizing talent shows for an amused parent audience.
When an adult gathers the little princesses together for a group picture, she’s
the one striking a dramatic movie star pose, while everyone else sits prettily
and says “cheese.”
You see that kid? There, among the
sweltering hordes of Disney World vacationers. She’s the one with the face
paint and outlandish belt – taking full advantage of the park’s “Star Wars
Weekends,” she and her brother have become vicious bounty hunters scouring the
galaxy for targets…while waiting in line for a ride experiencing “technical
difficulties.” Suddenly, she points out
their targets: two four-foot-tall Jedi in line behind them - sweaty, cranky,
and wearing thin the patience of all within earshot. Slowly, deliberately, the girl walks up to
them, resting one hand on an imaginary laser blaster. “You two Jedi?” One boy
gulps, and responds defiantly, “Yeah… what are you?” Winking at his mother, she
growls, “Bounty hunters. We eat Jedi for dinner.” The other boy catches on,
yells “Heyaah!” and the battle is on – plastic lightsabers versus finger guns –
to the amusement of the other park-goers. By the time the miniature Jedi have
vanquished the bounty hunters once and for all, the line is moving again. One
of the mothers mouths a silent thank-you to the girl, now faking a severe limp
as she moves up in line.
You see
that girl? There, in that mini-van speeding down the highway towards the
Poconos. While the other teenagers argue over which ski slopes to hit first, she
sits quietly, perusing a coil-bound transcript of “God and Country Radio”‘s program
on John Calvin’s Treatise On Civil
Government. Eventually, she looks up and asks its author, engaged at the
steering wheel, “Pastor, you believe that the state should be under the
authority of the Bible?” If he were to turn around, he might notice the gleam
in her eye and attempt to forestall the coming storm; but, thinking her
question to be merely mild curiosity – after all, he only gave her the
transcript as debate team research material - he replies in the affirmative. “Why?”
she challenges. “What about freedom of religion?” Thus begins a spirited
dialogue spanning everything from Locke’s Second
Treatise of Government to Catholic beliefs on separation of church and
state – a dialogue that will last the rest of the two-hour car trip, through
lunch break, and for most of the way back home, long after the rest of the
car’s occupants have fallen asleep from exhaustion.
You see
this girl? Yes, this one right here, writing college essays with one hand and
eating a chocolate cookie – nature’s best brain food – with the other. When
this is finished, she will click “submit,” log off the laptop, and find some
other adventure to embark on. Who will she be talking to, playing with,
masquerading as, debating with?
Wait and see.