Application Essays (Part 1)

[sweet_love]

Bài luận ( application essay ) là một trong những yếu tố quan trọng nhất trong bộ hồ sơ đăng ký vào đại học của bạn. Tôi sưu tầm giới thiệu tuyển tập các bài luận được viết bởi những thành viên đã thành công trong việc xin học bổng.

Essay by Hong Nhung (Harvard)

As my teacher drew a cylindrical with sticks on it on the blackboard, all I could do was stare up at her with my dark-brown eyes and a sympathetic frown. “Dein G-E-B-U-R-T-S-T-A-G?” (Your birthday?) she asked. She also pursed her lips, which, in later retrospect, must have been an attempt to mimic the blowing of candles. Still, I was clueless about what she wanted from me and turned nervously round to my father for help. – It was my first school day in Germany, and my form teacher had just resorted to her last means to communicate with me. Her smile, mixed with desperation, as she asked my father to be our interpreter is still vivid in my mind even years after this incidence. She little knew that I had never had a birthday cake before when I was still in Vietnam. Vietnam could not have been any more different from Germany, especially over ten years ago. Miraculous, therefore, was the speed with which I mastered to break the language barrier and mingle with my peers. By the time my classmates had learnt half of the ABC, I was already interacting, thinking, and dreaming in German, as a ‘German’.

Years afterwards, and thousands of miles away from ‘my’ Germany, back in Vietnam in 8th grade, I found myself in an all too familiar situation. 32 pairs of eyes stuck on me as I struggled to read aloud a history text and bungled the intonations, mispronouncing every second word. The new teacher must have looked even more discouraged than my dear old German teacher that instant. My conception of Vietnam had long faded into a mishmash of facts and clichés. Only a week ago, on the airplane, I was more worried about the absence of the ‘Backstreet Boys’ than about coming to a land whose language I hardly spoke. Amid the culture shock and the unendurably sultry climate I mourned the days I was without much effort the best in class. I was stunned by the gigantic workload that Vietnamese students had after school, at the ‘extra-study’ movement out-of-school, the rigid school regulations, and the mechanical memorizing in certain humanities subjects. I was a year behind in physics, seven years or more in Vietnamese literature, and it seemed as though I had never had *real* math lessons. It was clear that this time I would not adjust to the new living conditions as naturally as I did when a child with an unshaped mind.

Accustomed to the non-chalant learning philosophy in the German classroom, I found myself misplaced in the midst of my study-oriented Vietnamese classmates. Night-study became a frequent must in order to complete my schoolwork and my social life was reduced to 5-minute talks between lessons. Giving up never weighed on my mind; choosing how to go on was a much more difficult decision. If I continued to adopt the perfunctory study habits of my friends, I would be forever one step behind may I spend twice as much time and effort on every task. Experimenting with new study methods, on the other hand, was ill-timed: By the end of the one-term trial period I needed satisfactory study results to stay in class.

If there was only one significant concept I learned to value in the Confucian-based Vietnamese education, it was persistence and self-motivation. Lack of talent or, as in my case, unusual life circumstances are never excuses for bad performance in school. German students are divided into different learning groups as early as 5th grade, and only a small fraction study beyond grade 10 to enter higher education. Meanwhile, Vietnamese students grow up with the motto ‘If you give your best, you will come out as a winner.’ I took the risk. I dropped my extra-classes, and studied independently at home over my pile of books. Admittedly, it took me at first even more time to absorb information than having a teacher in extra-class explain everything. However, I often understood and retained more than others through inquiring deeply into the subject matters. Once I had accumulated enough verbal, practical, and intellectual foundation I was able to shorten my study hours and allow myself more time to pursue personal interests. Results so far have been overwhelming. After the first year, I was already in the upper third of the class. Another year, and I would outdo hundreds of co-applicants and get into Vietnam's top senior high school.

Until now, 8th grade has been the most emotionally and physically intense year for me. It is at the same time the most rewarding one - the period of change that characterized my last 3 years in Vietnam. Having had the chance to test and confirm my abilities so early in life, I feel confident and eager to conquer new challenges to come.

Essay by Le Dieu Linh (Williams)

There is one thing you should know about me. I have not always been the gregarious person as people may see. It costs me a long time of internal conflicts and self-struggling to add zest to the picture of the old dull me.

During my teenage, I was only a dim shadow of my own inferiority complex. Whenever it came to talking with my brilliant peers, I would immediately become conscious of my absurd spectacles, silly pigtails and skinny figure. That ridiculous image was blushing like a beetroot when mumbling some nonsense, which brought jeering and laughter to her audience's faces and silent tears inside her. Soon, I was labeled " book-worm" in the cruelest sense of the word. In the crowd, I never heard my voice or even recognized myself. At home, I spent hours on grandiose dreams of becoming a monitor or a leading actress in a school play. Some times, when imagination went wild, I saw myself standing among rafts of admirers, who burst into applause every time I spoke. That vision soon became an illusion as I put my feet on the ground again. I was actually a mere zero, a poor provincial mouse with huge dreams and little courage, a quirky pedantic book-worm who had yet to learn how to love herself.

Things changed, however, as I passed a freaking exam to one of the top-notch high schools in the country.

Exposed to a such a new, interesting environment, I decided that I would stay different. And a chance came to make it real. My class was going to hold a music show, and we needed a vocalist. This intrigued me a lot. After all, I had always loved to sing. Many times I had locked myself in my room, dancing and singing as if I were performing on a grand stage. Hardly had I made a decision when I heard my voice raising among the chaotic sounds of the hot debates, asking whether I might take the stand. Suddenly, hundreds of astonishing and curious eyes stared at me.

" That's great, have you ever performed in a show ?" smiled the teacher warmly as she looked at me.

" ...Actually... no, but ...I'll try my best..." I felt like crying.

" So, why not let us enjoy your songs here,", spoke the teacher in the most encouraging way I've ever noticed.

Why not? I wanted to sing and she gave me a chance. Frankly I had always been proud of my voice and craved to show it off. The chance had come, and I could never let it go. My fear calmed down, and I then heard myself singing the favorite rhymes

...Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things...

The fear vanished, and I even found myself swinging to the melodious tune, as if the classroom had turned into my familiar stage. I was singing because that was my passion and it should be known to every one. I was singing because I no longer wanted to hide under the shell of a lethargic tortoise, or act as a pariah. That was why I did it passionately with all my heart.

Silent for a while. And then the whole class were cheering wildly, and I heard whistles every where. I was swimming in the endless tides of applause. I finally sunk in happiness.

Since then, I began to understand that it is not at all impossible to control your nervousness, and there is actually little difference between congenital courage and one gained through practice. Bearing this in mind, I tried hard to make my voice heard in every class debates, draw my teachers' and friends' attention to my laborious effort. Whenever I stood up, I tried to plant my feet firmly and blend all my energy to get my idea across. I nourished my confidence through many music shows, oral contests or college fairs. Gradually, the image of my odd appearance quitted my mind, putting me at ease to express myself. Every morning, just after leaving my cozy bed, I would stand for a while in front of the mirror, and smile to the reflection of a new, interesting me inside. I have finally learned how to love myself.

Bravery was not mine by nature, but I have learned how to obtain it. The important thing is to realize what you are looking for and be determined to step through when the door is open. That lesson I have gained from my own experience, and I know it will still be useful for me in every walks of life.