<p>Hey... I was wondering if I could some feedback on my essays. The main one has already been sent to NYU and Columbia but I was wondering if I could get some critique on it in relation (like how do they all make me come across collectively) to my other supplemental essays, for Princeton and Harvard. For Princeton, I am worried about the topic of my choice essay, because my friends who have read it thought it might be viewed as insincere, but my GC and teachers liked it. But that's not everyone. I am trying to push my personality and passion for music, and also my ability to grow. Since my essays are going to be read by adults, I figured I'd get the most helpful feedback here. </p>
<p>Main essay: Person who has had a significant impact on your life (if there's any grammar comments or spelling let me know) </p>
<p>Alexa </p>
<p>Its Friday morning, eleven oclock, and the Roosevelt Field bus, the final bus, has yet to be called. Camp is over, and the usual loud roar of the dining hall has dwindled to a low rumble. I cannot help thinking clichéd phrases of success: I survived my first summer as a counselor! Alexa, a ten-year-old camper, sat next to me on a bench while I drank a cup of tea. In the eight weeks of camp, she and I had become as close as brother and sister. I cherish my relationship with Alexa more than anything else I found at camp this past summer. </p>
<p>Alexa looks up at me and says, Andrew, Im going to miss you so much. Youre my favorite counselor I dont want to go home; I dont want to see my Dad. Horrible thoughts run through my head; I can see Alexa in my minds eye rolling up her sleeve, timidly showing me a heavily bruised arm. Swallowing some tea with a gulp, I ask her why she did not want to see her Dad. Alexas sleeve remains in place, and I exhale in relief. She tells me that her parents divorced when she was five years old. Alexa blamed the divorce on her father, which explained her reluctance to see him. Alexas family coped with the divorce in various ways. Her brother, age twelve, still had not come to grips with the separation, while her sixteen-year-old sister found a boyfriend and her mother got engaged. Alexa felt no closeness with her sister or brother-- they avoided her, and her closeness with her mother was fading. She had no one to look up to, no one to talk to, and no one that understood her; her family was too preoccupied for that. Realizing then that I had filled a missing role in Alexa's life over the summer, I discovered I was more than just a good counselor-- I was a much needed friend. </p>
<p>It became clear to me that our families were really not that different. Id always been an outsider when it came to family life. Like Alexas older siblings, I avoided all possible contact with my two younger brothers, who are not much older than Alexa. Any inquiries of Andrew, could you drive me ? were rejected with a terse NO. I shunned get-togethers, always finding a way to weasel out of every possible family engagement. In terms of enjoyment and priority, spending time with my family was ranked as low as cleaning my room. It took my experience with Alexa to change my entire outlook on family.</p>
<p>Alexa taught me how important it is for older siblings to be there for their younger brothers and sisters. Her feelings of isolation from her family allowed me to understand how I was isolating my own brothers. I decided then that I would change my sibling relationship at home, and it is something I work at every single day. No one saw Alexa and me having that conversation on that Friday morning; I doubt that she even remembers it. We only talked for five minutes, yet the impact our conversation had on me will be everlasting: I am a better brother because of Alexa, and I am truly thankful for that.</p>
<p>Princeton Summer Essay: How I spent last 2 summers </p>
<p>I've never told anyone this, but during the last week of school from sixth grade on, I've only had one pair of pants to wear. Nonetheless, I did not mind. Why? Because the rest of my pants were in a trunk on its way up to the New Jersey Y Camps in Milford, PA. </p>
<p>Summer 2003 was my last summer as a camper. I was in Teen Age Camp II, and a C.I.T. I was required to intern daily for two hours at the guitar specialty shop in the younger camp, Nah-Jee-Wah. However, I didn't just intern, I ran every afternoon class. Adam, the specialist, had been assigned to an additional job. I offered to teach his three afternoon classes, and he was more than happy to oblige. I enjoyed teaching so much that I began a guitar class within TAC in which I taught six teenagers for an hour each morning, in addition to my internship. I was also allowed to organize an unprecedented rock concert (with a local band) in the camp.</p>
<p>I was guaranteed a job for the summer of 2004 as a pre-counselor. Usually, a pre-counselor is paid $500 for the entire summer, and can only be an assistant to a sport or a specialty shop. I was the only exception; I was offered the responsibilities of guitar specialist and as bunk counselor for ten-year olds in Nah-Jee-Wah as well as $1000 for the summer. I would have taken that job for nothing; I wanted to teach so badly. Last summer was amazing-- I wish all work was so much fun. I truly connected with both campers and staff. I am positive I will return as a counselor in 2005.</p>
<p>Princeton: Tell us something about you in such a way that will give us a good sense of who you are/ Harvard Supplemental Essay: People have said this is my best piece of writing, but I want to know if the rhythm of the words work...especially the ending because I had meant the number of words to increase each line, but I realized that it ends up skipping from 10-12 and then from 15- 17-13 so to hell with that... </p>
<p>This is supposed to be centered so it looks like a diamond. </p>
<p>"Im more than just a collection of particles"</p>
<p>Im
Talkative, outgoing
Always a camper
Always flashing a smile
And will make you smile
Always opinionated, but never close-minded
Except when it comes to eating chicken,
I loathe chicken; a bane to my palate.
Im a perfectionist, but I know Im not perfect.
My randomness lets me know that Im not a robot.
I love music so much I cannot describe the feelings I get
When I am listening to the Shins, Dave Matthews, or Miles Davis:
Kind of Blue inspired my jazz guitar playing more than any other album.
From Miles, I learned the value of simplicity, and to make every note count.
Some people have diaries they write in when they are emotional. I have my guitar.
I like to go into my basement and play and sing until my mom flashes the lights.
The lights signify that the music has gotten too loud and I stop.
I blush. Im not embarrassed, but I feel caught in the act.
Or caught in the moment; the sweat running down my face,
As I finally play a progression I thought impossible, perfectly
Beaming happily for hitting a high note on pitch,
Im imagining the crowd hanging on every tone.
Im imagining influencing a boy like me
To start playing, writing, or singing,
And then in ten years
Hell write how Miles
Inspired me, and
I inspired
Him.</p>
<p>Finally: Princeton: Topic of Your Choice...i wrote about this topic cos I feel like had I not overcome this problem, I wouldn't have felt confident enough to take honors/AP courses nor apply to good schools.</p>
<p>I was late for class after gym...again. There I was, glued to a mirror, toying with my hair. I was not always as outgoing as I am now. Since middle school, my hair needed to be p-e-r-f-e-c-t, or I felt my social life would be in jeopardy. No matter how good it looked, I never thought my hair was good enough. Mr. Giordano, seeing I had not budged since class had been dismissed, tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Andrew, it's time to go."</p>
<p>"Oh--ah!" I jumped, and my hand moved my hair out of place. It was too late to fix anything; I was already five minutes late for class, and the latest I'd ever been. I didn't know what to do with myself. I was so frustrated, I did the unthinkable: I took my hands, and I ran them manically through my hair. I rushed out of the locker-room before Mr. Giordano could comment.</p>
<p>I walked down the hallway feeling increasingly like I had done something right with myself. I felt liberated,and okay with how I looked. Moreover, not one person said a thing to me about my hair. In fact, four girls had smiled at me! I realize now that spending an inordinate amount of time on my hair not only made me seem more uptight and shallow, but it pushed away my friends. It was absurd to think that people would not like me because of the way I looked. I am no longer so self-critical. I've learned to accept the imperfections that define me and now that I am not so anxious about superficialities, I am able to focus on being a good friend and enjoying High School.</p>
<p>THANKS SO MUCH WHOEVER HELPS ME OUT.</p>