Monday, August 10, 2020
How To Write A Good College Admission Essay
How To Write A Good College Admission Essay Almost every morning I visited the campus bookstore. I bought a copy of James Joyceâs Dubliners, which I managed to snag some downtime to read. I took far too many photographs of the displays in the New Mexico History Museum, and I brought home a beautiful little red rock from the hike we took nearby. I canât say that any one of these factors stands out as a single attraction of St. Johnâs. Rather, itâs the combination of them all that makes St. Johnâs such a uniquely appealing college. Sometimes pieces of thought which seem to be completely irrelevant to one another, before I know become connected and make one amazing, completed puzzle of my own making. These unexpected enlightenments, which I call my âAh-haâ moments, give me butterflies and make my heart flutter. These moments mean so much more to me than memorizing other peopleâs ideas for exam results. We visited three academic buildings that afternoon. Almost without exception, every room we peeked into was packed with those little chairs that Will Ferrell squeezes himself into in Elf, the ones with the little writing shelf attached. On a philosophical basis, I chafe against the competitive, individualistic approach to learning that these desks represent. On a physical basis, at six-foot-two, I can barely fit behind them. St. Johnâs college not only interests me, but draws me in very strongly because it combines in the most natural way, the study of politics and philosophy. Then, why this way is or isnât working or linked causes me to ponder continuously. For me, the process of learning is full of wonderful and surprising events. As I go with the flow of thinking, I often find myself at far-off place from where I originally started. Describe your reading habits and discuss an aspect of a particular book that has been important in shaping your thoughts. Whenever I encounter something new, as my math teacher said, I have a habit of viewing it with the suspicious eyes. Therefore, the âAh-haâ moment that gets me excited cannot be overridden by artificial number in my report which my school thinks is so important. I absolutely âloveâ sharing my ideas and hearing the views and thoughts of others, especially when it comes to learning. To me, the idea of everyone having different opinions and thoughts about particular topics comes as such a beautiful thing. All individuals on this planet have different relationships, experiences, and environments in their lives. Every now and then I wonder what amazing and creative notions are filling someoneâs soul. Although there are no majors or concentrations in St. Johnâs, I feel that the Great Books curriculum was created to perfectly suit my interestsâ"approaching the social sciences with a philosophical lens. Not more than two years later my literature teacher gave me as an extra reading the book Sophieâs World by Jostein Gaarder. The book accomplished its objective and, with ease and short chapters of many philosophers, introduced me to the world of the big questions and the pursuit of truth. At some point, after reading it, I felt like Sophie as I wondered about my beliefs and values and about the world. When a book is read, a bond forms between author and reader. The author speaks, and the reader listens as they weave together the holes the author leaves them to fill. While the authorâs words may be constant, the reader is the true variable. When you have more than one reader together, you have each dimension they bring to the book . Trying to single out any one appealing aspect of St. Johnâs is, for me, like trying to pick a favorite piece in a jigsaw puzzle. Some pieces might be more aesthetically pleasing than others, but none of them can compare to the whole picture. However, the classes were the part of the Summer Academy that stuck with me the most. Alfred Prufrockâ and learned ancient history from the ancients themselves, we pursued an underlying philosophical thread, examining our readings through the lens of courage. I still have the battered schedule, which I kept in my pocket. That is the moment I need conversation with people who have different qualities that have ascended from their own distinct lives. When a student in a sophomore music theory class wanted to ask a classmate a question about the rhythm of a jazz solo, she did, without fear that asking the question would make her seem unintelligent. Everyone in the classes spoke, not to the professor for the sake of a grade, but to each other for the sake of the exercise. On a Saturday halfway into my first semester at Smith, my friend and I went in search of a study room.
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