<p>**Lots of former students I've worked with have been itching
me to post this online, so I figure I'll save myself some repetition
by just making a public thread on this hahaha.</p>
<p>For about four years I've read essays by students; for
two years I've been critiquing them at this site. I found
it fascinating how some people used literary techniques to
a perfection, while others used the same techniques only
to reflect as a clear, purposeful attempt to impress adcoms.</p>
<p>Some essays shined with pure simplicity, while others simply
looked like a 6th grader wrote them. </p>
<p>And for those people, trust me, I let them know about it.</p>
<p>So really, what distinguished the extraordinary escape from the
ordinary world? The answer: the flow. Through the flow of the
essay, a critical analysis can discover any hint of fake writing,
the type that you read from a how-to book and insert in a
reckless matter. </p>
<p>The hardest part of this problem is that you can't necessarily
find it by dissecting each sentence individually. It's just something
you can "sense." When adcoms read your essays, they go off
that gut, and in the process detect something that's wrong with
your essay. </p>
<p>At Dartmouth I recently brought this question up to an admissions
officer. He smiled and said, "you should be an admissions officer."</p>
<p>While universal truths still remain--a gripping opening sentence and
no inadvertent spelling errors--the structure of the essay must
be the same throughout. The voice must be the same. THAT, is
a masterpiece, something that's completely YOU, not the essay
that will get into Newsweek Essays of the year. **</p>
<p>
[quote]
Life throws around numbers, many numbers. Four years in high school. Sixteen years without a license. One year to serve as Lieutenant Governor for Key Club International. Twelve schools to lead throughout an entire year. Seven years of dismal divisional numbers between these unmanaged schools. </p>
<p>One man’s shoulders to fix it. All of it.</p>
<p>And I signed up for this job?</p>
<p>When the Key Club presidents in my area elected me to serve as their next Lieutenant Governor, I rejoiced with the zest of a vivacious kid. That excitement waned as I realized what hole I found myself in. My adult regional advisor escorted me into her office and dropped a stack of files in front of my eyes. Confused, I gave cursory glances through foreign numbers, statistics, charts, and graphs. In an epiphany, I realized everything; these files represented how horribly my division floundered over the past seven years.</p>
<p>“You realize your entire division is threatened with termination and re-absorption into bordering divisions.” She looked at me with a disheartened, defeated look.</p>
<p>“Basically, your schools will be integrated into other areas because the leadership has been inadequate for the past seven years.” </p>
<p>“Give me one year,” I declared with confidence.</p>
<p>From that moment on, I relentlessly dedicated my life to the schools that trusted me. As a leader, I dove into every challenge. To my surprise, I received it, embraced it, and learned to love it. Every problem, a solution; every decision, a glimpse of hope. Time, sleep, and criticism acted as speed bumps to achieving success. I saw one goal, and pursued that goal until I grasped it. My division will not dissolve under my watch; I carry too much faith and optimism to let such a fate play out.</p>
<p>I discovered myself within those precious months. Using my main talent—my voice—I attempted to rally everyone. With a confluence between rhetoric and confidence, I constantly spoke to club leaders and regular members. At first, my words fell on deaf and defeated ears. With time though, I understood how to connect with people. My voice became my heart, and I opened it with every interaction.</p>
<p>Fast forward four months, and results finally validated my efforts. Membership exploded, activity expanded several fold, and paperwork finally began to file properly. Our divisional spirit during the annual California-Nevada-Hawaii District meeting reflected the apex moment of my tenure. As I waved our Division flag with pride, I witnessed the results of many sleepless nights. It was a beautiful sight. </p>
<p>With that sight still fresh in my mind, I now set off to see the potential Wisconsin University can offer me as a student, a marketing major, and a leader. I see the perfect place to fully embrace myself into the active political debates raging next to the four lakes. In a new student culture of community unity, I aspire to challenge myself as a student leader. Not as another number, but as a prominent figure. </p>
<p>Let me throw a few more numbers out. Zero people believed in me. One person believed in our division: me. After one year, 138 people marched together to the annual District Meeting because they believed in our division. 681 registered members needed me before the year. 1,032 members ended up needing me after it.</p>
<p>A final stat: One. One division, unabolished, unscathed, and undivided under one identity.
[/quote]
</p>
<p>**Now, some things I did right and wrong with that essay.
1. I like using dialogue a lot, and I wasn't afraid of shying away from it
because it's just my writing style.
2. I used the same style of writing all throughout. From reading the first
half of the essay, you can predict the style in which the last half would
be written.
3. I added a bit of personalized pandering to the individual school, heh.
4. I was NOT intimate enough in my experience to get a good feel of my
personality. Something I wanted to do, but due to word restriction and
the lengthy nature of the story I couldn't fit in. </p>
<p>Oh, and this essay got me into summer programs and colleges I had no
business of getting accepted into with my GPA.**</p>