College Entry Essay Contest

The Grand Prize Winner

Timothy Morris

Timothy holds multiple leadership positions as not only the Senior Class President at Melrose High School but also as the captain of the football team, a dedicated Peer Mediator and the host of a local sports television show. CampusCompare congratulates Timothy on his early acceptance to Williams College and wishes him a solid football career!

"Attention Seniors! The yearbook staff would like to remind you that tomorrow is the last day to hand in your favorite childhood photograph...no excuses!" The afternoon announcement booms in my ears as I jotted down the reminder. Arriving home from another long day of school and practice, I open the trunk full of photo albums, grab a thick blue album and another with a teddy bear on the cover, and bring them into my bedroom.

Hours later, I find myself still sitting on the carpeted floor, surrounded by overflowing shoe boxes and photo albums of every size and color. My mother's passion for picture-taking has me entranced in the simple, fantastic world of my young self.

Time is ticking and there is homework to do. Hurry up and pick one, I think to myself. Shuffling through another deck of pictures, one immediately sends me back in time.

It is Christmas Eve, 1994, at Rosie and Papa's house. The entire Morris clan is gathered for a celebration of family and faith. This night my mother has successfully been taking candid shots of her most difficult child-me. (I loathed having my picture taken.) Standing in my grandparents' living room, immersed in conversation with my uncle's chocolate Labrador Retriever Rex, I am oblivious as she snaps the camera shutter.

Studying this priceless little rectangle, it is obvious that my three-year-old self finds nothing odd about talking to my favorite animal while showing little regard for the people around me. I'm dressed in the standard red and green holiday sweater, but something in my wardrobe is peculiar. Tied around my neck is a long black cape- my Batman cape. I smile to myself, remembering that for well over twelve months, that piece of light-weight nylon was as essential to my daily attire as underwear. I would wear it around the house during my heroic exploits, always carrying an action figure, a block or a Lego to be my "Bat-gadget." Refusing to go anywhere without it, I truly believed that if I wanted to be just like my favorite super hero, I had better dress like him, too.

This is a pretty good one, I think to myself, shifting my focus to on the background of the photograph. Over my small, caped shoulder, sits my grandfather, Papa. He is in his chair smiling; no doubt he is watching his grandchildren open presents in front of him. Papa, the patriarch of the Morris family, remains my greatest role model. He was the backbone of my childhood's loving community of uncles, aunts and cousins. For every tough situation or moral dilemma, there was Papa, with a story... and a moral. His morals ranged from never quitting to always standing by your family or living life with a sense of humor. Taken together, these lessons have impacted my life immensely.

Sitting on the floor, I wonder how my three-year-old self thinks about his family. I long to ask him what he is saying to the dog and to tell him to make sure he remembers everything Papa says that night. It is impossible, however, because the little boy in the photograph lives in a protected, self-contained world.

He has no way of knowing he will experience Christmas Eves without Papa. The responsibilities of a teenager and a high school student are still far in his future. His biggest decision of the day is to decide which toy to play with. School is "Happy Hours Pre-School," one of his favorite places in the world. Sports are throwing a tennis ball or miniature football for his own amusement; work is helping his mother mix cake batter or dropping food coloring into a bowl of frosting. His world is compact, with an imagination that can turn a trip to the supermarket into an adventure and a dog into a talkative friend. He is surrounded exclusively by adoring friends and family.

I glance up at my digital clock. It's 10:30 p.m.! Great, now you really have to get to work, I think. Opening my notebook to begin my homework, I read the reminder I scrawled that afternoon. Find photograph that represents your childhood.

Perfect, I say to myself as I slip the photo into my backpack.

The Runners-Up...

Matthew Segal

Matthew is a well-rounded high school senior who enjoys card magic, sailing, windsurfing and sculpture while tackling a rigorous AP-level course load. We wish Matt the best of luck as he waits to hear back from his Early Decision application to Oberlin!

I sell happiness. I also sell heart attacks. When someone is upset, I sell consolation, but when someone is on a diet, I sell sin in its purest form.

Working at Toscanini's Ice Cream Café, in what residents jokingly refer to as The Peoples' Republic of Cambridge, MA, has given me an entirely new perspective on making assumptions about other people.

My first shift at Tosci's introduced me to two of the most unusual people I'd ever met. One was Jen, a 5-foot-7 woman with a double rattail, three cat tattoos, and what appeared to be homemade pants. The other was a guy named Mike, who was solidly built with four-foot-long red dreadlocks that he'd been growing for thirteen years.

Needless to say, I was a little surprised by their appearance and attire, but I soon realized that these were two of the funniest, most sincere people I'd ever met. Our interaction taught me the first and foremost rule in dealing with customers, and has proved invaluable ever since: never, ever assume anything important about someone before you've had a chance to talk to him. Although I have learned various other nuances and caveats about being on the other side of the counter, this one is still the most important to me. The diversity of the clientele at Tosci's is truly amazing: from grungy punk-teenagers with gigantic purple mohawks to sharply-dressed businessmen wearing custom-made suits, and let's not forget nearly half of the congregation from the second-largest black church in Massachusetts,. However, ice cream and vanilla mocha lattes have the remarkable effect of causing nearly every person, despite his or her appearance, to become jovial, carefree, and adventurous. The fact that it's a rare day when we have more than two surly customers exit out of the nearly a thousand who enter has shown me an aspect of human nature I had never noticed before: a choice of thirty two flavors of what the New York Times has described as "The Best Ice Cream in the World" is enough to make anyone smile. I enjoy my job enough to even hesitate to call it "work," and others have wondered whether I am gaining any transferable skills at this job. True, I know that in college and in the work force one is not frequently expected to be able to make a scoop of Burnt Caramel with perfect feathering, or to make one of those cute foam hearts on a cappuccino. However, the ability to look past appearances and see the person who is really underneath is a life skill that I will carry with me forever.

Tara S.

Tara is a high school student who enjoys eating and wants to pursue an Environmental Science major in college. Although she is not yet sure what school she wants to attend, rest assured because CampusCompare's "Match Me" Meter can help Tara discover her perfect campus love!

"Taste Test"

Though some find an insatiable desire for food frustrating, I find that this eternal hunger has been an integral part of my identity throughout my adolescence. I have won the nicknames "pasta" and "rigatoni" from some of my closest friends, and my peers certainly recognize my love for food. Throughout high school, I've always participated in sports or clubs because it gave me a new opportunity to participate in my favorite form of human interaction: eating. No matter the sport, no matter the club, and no matter the occasion, I am always delighted by the opportunity to savor a good meal in the presence of my friends. Words cannot describe my initial reaction to the absolutely divine pasta dinners we have before athletic events, the bus-ride brownies, and the pure deliciousness of a fruit platter after our tennis matches. This passion for food has translated into a passion to experience life.

From the richness of vegetable lasagna to the creamy crunchiness of a fresh cannoli, food always has a power to excite my senses. I recognize that I have not tasted all of what the world has to offer, but I live to experience the flavor of each culture and taste the possibilities. Sometimes this means parading around the lunch room with some of my equally eager friends searching for that one delectable peanut butter and fluff sandwich, juicy apple, or warm cafeteria cookie that would have otherwise been thrown away. I savor what others consider insignificant because each bite contributes a significant bit of happiness to my day. I believe it's the sum of all the little experiences that make every day precious and rewarding.

Beyond the lightheartedness of my lunchroom extravaganzas, I love dining out or visiting my friends' homes to experience what they eat. Even though I suffered through curries made with the second-spiciest pepper in the world and, every new dish I try enlightens me and introduces me to a world beyond my own home and culture.

The International Dinner, a fundraising event for the foreign language clubs at my school celebrating the diversity of world cuisines, has allowed me to taste more than I could ever imagine. This taste test involves filling several plates with an overwhelming number of ethnic dishes, from Vietnamese entrees to Scandinavian desserts. One of the greatest aspects of the dinner is the genuineness of the food. The effort that goes into the pad thai, the painstaking hours used to make samosas, and the care that goes into the homemade baba ghanoush all contribute to the sincerity of the meal. As the beneficiary of others' good cooking, I feel a human connection to their dishes. What they make enhances my perception of the world. Despite the differences in cultures and societies and the variations in ethnic cuisines, food has given me the greatest insight to people around the world. A delicious meal can be found anywhere on earth, and food is only a means of celebrating diversity and experience. Life requires eating well-balanced meals, and fully incorporating others' perspectives into our lives.

Although I may not have enjoyed every snail or frog that I've ever tasted, the experience of discovering is wonderful. To gain understanding of different cultures through food is to broaden one's own horizons. My greatest fear of growing old is losing my ability to taste and experience the world. While I am young, I hope to live my life with a full plate, constantly trying and sharing new foods with family and friends. Whether or not I am enjoying the distinct aftertaste of garden-fresh arugula or the sweet sourness of a newly cut pineapple may not affect my future. Yet, by eating nearly every waking moment of the day, I know I am enjoying my day. Being so privileged as to lead a comfortable lifestyle where I do not face the possibility of starvation, I am ready to embrace every opportunity I have to eat and provide others with similar opportunities to experience life. I hope that my hunger is never satisfied and that the rumblings of my stomach never die.

Jeremy Levenson

Jeremy is a senior at Doherty Memorial High School.

Biology. Boredom. Intercom. Panic. Lockdown. Mr. William J. King locks the entrance to room 316 as President Harry S. Truman is called down to the office. A cluster of students are told to leave their seats and head towards the back of the room, away from the windows. Huddled together on a 6 by 8 foot plane, a contagious feeling of unease and excitement fills the air. "Sit down and stay calm," urges Mr. King . "Everything is going be alright."

A sweaty hand accidently touches my neck as I sit squashed in this pile of strangers. My Sean John wearing, rap-loving classmates sit right on top of me in the claustrophobic space. My lungs strain for air as the toxins of perspiration mix with the ever-present dust and dirt of the floor. My mind takes me in a thousand directions as I struggle to figure out what Mr. King knows but won't tell. Perhaps knowing what is really going on may not be the best thing--but not knowing is definitely worse.

As always, biology class has started at 1:00 p.m.. Mr. King put his notes on the board, and miserably failed to express the importance of knowing the Kreb's cycle and protein synthesis. I sat impatiently in my seat, worshipping the clock and staring into the abyss. And now, moments later, reality breathes heavily down my neck. We have just been informed that an unidentified man has entered the school. He is considered armed and dangerous, triggering the lockdown code "Harry S. Truman." An unsettling feeling takes over my body. What if I don't make it home?

I worry about my family. The thought of never seeing them again shakes me to the core. No more marathon ping-pong matches with my brother. No more political debates over breakfast with my grandmother. No more Sox and Pats games with my father. No more Diet Cokes shared with my mother. I'm afraid of what will happen to them. The pain of losing a brother, a grandson, and a son is intolerable. I need to get these thoughts out of my head. I need to stay positive.

Minutes go by. Seconds go by. Seconds feel like minutes. The clock on the wall, that I had loved so much, has now become my enemy as time passes by painfully slowly. I am sweaty and dirty; my deodorant is wearing out. I hear footsteps. They increase in volume until they seem eerily close. They're right outside the door. I can see the black uniform of a police officer in the transit. A chase ensues. The armed suspect must be in the school's Health wing. Or maybe in the Science wing. Is he outside the door? What if he tries to come in? Is he looking for someone in particular? Is he looking for me? Paranoia seizes control. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. Silence. The clank of police boots on the tile floor comes to an abrupt halt. I look at my classmates in bewilderment, not sure whether to be nervous or relieved. A clicking sound. A gun cocking? No, it's the loud speaker. Principle Sally Malloney clears her throat and addresses the school. "The threat is over" she says. The bell rings. I rush out of class with my mountain of textbooks and notebooks. Stumbling on my way, I thrust them into my locker as they begin to slip from my hands. I take out my agenda and review my evening's homework. Under my history, biology, and math assignments I write, "Give mom a hug."