<p>If you could approach the essay with a fresh perspective, go for it. Below is an essay that does just that (notice the student does not give emphasis to cultural differences but rather to his personal interpretation of something unique he observed during the trip). I'm posting it here because it's been made public by the school from which the student graduated (see <a href="http://milton.edu/news/pages/magazine_2006fall_fs.html%5B/url%5D">http://milton.edu/news/pages/magazine_2006fall_fs.html</a> for other sample essays). The student is now enrolled at Princeton.</p>
<p>On Spontaneity
Leo Lester</p>
<p>"A little African boy runs along the esplanade, his white shirt open and blowing in the wind, his feet drumming lightly on the stone walkway. A waist-high stone ledge rises to his left. On its other side, the ledge drops down about three times the height of the boy to a crowded beach that rolls gently into the ocean. In a fluid motion, the boy leaps up and plants one foot on the ledge, catapulting himself into a lopsided somersault and sailing crookedly but serenely onto the sand below. He continues on his way without so much as a glance backward at the old men laughing in the shade of the wall.</p>
<p>This past March, I toured with the Milton Academy jazz combos through South Africa for two weeks, and of all the powerful experiences that I gathered, “the flip” (as I call it) remains my most potent memory. Watching the boy’s euphoric smile spin upside down triggered in me a sort of fascination, the source of which I could not put my finger on; at the time, all I could see was a young boy having a blast.</p>
<p>We often struggle to excavate as much meaning as possible from experiences that have touched us in some way, but perhaps we lose something in this struggle. My first version of this essay, though rough, most accurately captured my appreciation for the flip. But with each draft, I found it harder and harder to convey my realizations in the right words. Rereading my previous attempts to capture this scene has emphasized to me my value of excellence; I desperately wanted to do justice to the flip by drawing as much meaning from it as possible, but with every draft, capturing the moment proved to be more and more elusive.</p>
<p>And as I came to understand the skill required to portray the flip and its significance, I also started to see the value of spontaneity more clearly. Ironically, in my deliberate reflections, I discovered that spontaneity also generates a type of excellence. The flip was slightly crooked, but I love it for that very reason. Thrust into the same situation as the boy, I would have labored over the process of landing the perfect flip. Had I finally landed a flip with which I was satisfied, the experience would have lost that degree of joy, of impulsive creativity. The way the boy never scouted his landing or faltered on his first attempt illustrated his lack of need for security or perfection; as a result, the flip, though flawed, symbolized to me breaking free of personal shackles and captured an instance of pure joy.</p>
<p>There are two ways to play an Ultimate Frisbee game: intellectually and emotionally. Some guys thrive on the adrenaline rush of a layout block. Others prefer the satisfaction of executing a carefully calculated offensive play. Reflecting on the flip has emphasized to me the value of these two approaches: the beauty of the flip hinged more on spontaneity than perfection, but my attempts to relate that beauty required a skill that can only be perfected by hard work and time. And although I come from a world that supports that careful, calculating approach, witnessing the flip has encouraged me to bring balance to my life by making room for spontaneity, those bursts of passion that season life with a dash of excitement. Therein lies the key to an inner balance."</p>