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Personal Statement Inspiration
— The Class of 2027 Guide —
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The Official Personal Statement Prompts
The seven Personal Statement Essay Prompts shown below are the Official Essay Prompts provided each year by the Common Application—the organization that provides the formal online platform to build and submit each of your finalized college applications.
These official essay prompts are both inspiring and flexible. Often, the most successful Personal Statements are planned and written before the student selects an Official Common Application Essay Prompt. We aim to be unique and memorable as much as possible.
Explore the seven official Personal Statement Prompts below, but embrace creative freedom to craft your memorable story. Utilize our success-proven methods to showcase your story. The rest—including your finalized prompt choice—will come together at the right time!
The Official Common Application
— Personal Statement Prompts —
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Personal Statement
Official Essay Prompts
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— The Common Application Prompts —
Common Application Prompt Option 1
Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Common Application Prompt Option 2
The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?
Common Application Prompt Option 3
Reflect on a time when you questioned or challenged a belief or idea. What prompted your thinking? What was the outcome?
Common Application Prompt Option 4
Reflect on something that someone has done for you that has made you happy or thankful in a surprising way. How has this gratitude affected or motivated you?
Common Application Prompt Option 5
Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.
Common Application Prompt Option 6
Describe a topic, idea, or concept you find so engaging that it makes you lose all track of time. Why does it captivate you? What or who do you turn to when you want to learn more?
Common Application Prompt Option 7
Share an essay on any topic of your choice. It can be one you've already written, one that responds to a different prompt, or one of your own design.
— The 650-Word Personal Statement —
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Cornell University Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Cornell University!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Cornell University Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Cornell University Admit —
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Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.
My father dealt the cards to us one by one. An ace in my hand—perfect. I watched my father’s face as he kept dealing. I viewed the years of work he had put into the restaurant—and into our family—as hardened lines that had formed on his forehead.
The four of us sat cross-legged on the cold linoleum floor. We were stuck in the restaurant for the night. The blizzard of the year was keeping us from leaving, so we were to spend the night in our second home: my father and mother’s Chinese restaurant. I could see the snowflakes falling incessantly outside of the tinted glass window, the dimmed pink “Open” sign in my line of vision.
Dad finished dealing the cards. My mother and father had taught us to play shíshān, thirteen, when we were little. It was a simple game with only one rule: acquire the most points.
We played the first two rounds in silence. Mom and I had been clashing a bit then, so we were having trouble warming up to conversation. Throughout my first years of high school, she had become increasingly critical of me. She and my brother became inseparably close, and I envied their bond. My father took me under his wing, but mom continued to push me even more.
During round three, my older brother spoke up with a bold question. “How did you two fall in love?” he asked with his characteristic self-assurance. I waited anxiously for her response.
“Ask your father,” mom said in [Dialect].
Dad told us that he boarded a boat from China to New York City with only an elementary school education and raw hope. On that trip, he met the woman of his dreams. They decided to create a life together in New York City.
I sat in silent awe as I examined my cards. I had won the round. With a lingering sense of confidence, I pushed dad to tell more of their story.
The two of them eventually moved to Connecticut to open a restaurant. They had my brother and then me, and sent us to live in China with relatives while they established their business. We returned to the United States for pre-school and had spent nearly every day in the restaurant since then.
My earliest memories were formed in that restaurant. I learned how to walk across that linoleum tile and perfected my English by chatting casually with our regular customers. When I was old enough to work, my parents granted me increased responsibilities. Since then, I have become general manager of the restaurant. I am there every day, helping them to continue their legacy.
My life has unfolded in the restaurant that my parents built.
I have helped them with various duties over the years, calling the electric company, checking in on package delivery dates. Just as my parents had taught me shíshān, I guided them through the English pleasantries of “How are you?” and “Hold on for one moment, please.” At first I felt frustrated, having to help them with life’s little tasks. However, with time I became grateful to ease their burdens.
After countless rounds of shíshān, my father and brother fell asleep on the floor, using sweatshirts as pillows. Mom self-consciously broke the silence between us, asking about school, my friends, and even what I hoped to study in college.
Rather than asking me about my flaws, mom seemed to be asking about my strengths.
I asked her about her own childhood. She explained her limited opportunities—how she felt that she could have learned so much more. As we spoke, our cards were held less closely to our chests. I saw the reasons behind her criticisms and worries. She wanted more for me.
With her head in my lap, I could see the lines of Mama’s face smooth as she fell asleep—and into the dreams I now understand.
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Georgetown Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Georgetown!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Georgetown University Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Georgetown University Admit —
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Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
“Pick a card, any card...”
I was eight years old, standing beside my father at my local diner, when a man dressed in a colorful outfit approached me with a deck of cards. I remember my careful consideration as I reached out to pick a stray from the middle of the deck.
“Memorize it,” the man told me, with a tinge of excitement in his voice.
I delicately placed the card back in the deck. Within seconds, he had read my mind, announcing aloud my selection—and also plucking it straight out of the middle of the deck!
I was utterly dumbstruck; that one trick, that serendipitous encounter, led me to believe in something I never thought possible: magic. I left the diner in a state of wonder and with a new mission: to re-create that feeling in others.
Once home, I found a deck of cards and uttered the words that would soon occupy hours of my life: “Pick a card, any card!” I was determined to hone my craft. With my parents as my captive audience, I slowly became a master at amusing with deception and distraction (I mean... magic).
I was, already, a different kind of performer. I had been playing piano since age three, perfecting pieces and techniques for performances. The piece I’ve been practicing recently is Chopin’s Revolutionary Etude. Chopin’s etudes are notorious for finger-achingly long passages and for the huge range on the piano that they require. I recall the day, six months after beginning my work on the piece, when I finally perfected its hardest passage. I felt pure joy, not only at the mastery, but at the reactions I knew it could elicit.
These two pursuits, or really passions—magic and piano—are two of my greatest outlets in life. When I strike keys on the piano, or hold a freshly-opened pack of cards, I feel as though everything bottled up inside me is able to be let go.
Both offer a refreshing respite, for me and for viewers, from disheartening news from around the globe.
I can’t make injustices and biases vanish into thin air. I can’t bring socioeconomic divides into diminuendo. Fixing our environmental degradation is more than simple sleight of hand. But I can and do work toward making the changes I can. I play new pieces for my mom, who marched against apartheid in South Africa. I play for my dad, who marched beside her and sees history repeating itself. I play for those much older than me who see the world changing before their eyes into a demoralizing place. I try to inspire hope that there are better days to come, new notes to hear, and new magic in the air: something revolutionary.
The basis of magic, I believe, is altering what people believe to be true, prompting them to think twice about what they are seeing—creating astonishment. The amazement that I see in a spectator’s eyes is intoxicating. I can’t wait for each time I get to inspire such wonder. And, playing the piano for others encourages a similar response. While there is no “lightbulb moment” that I observe in my audience’s eyes (like I do after a masterful trick), I have the power to spark joy, happiness, and even awe in response to a particularly moving piece.
While classical music may be considered “high brow” and magic may be dismissed as comparatively “low brow,” for me, such a characterization is misleading, ill-conceived. I feel that both crafts exert a strong pull on me, one that has led me to devote endless hours to honing my skills.
I’d even argue that piano and magic are truly intertwined, in that their chief purpose is to cause one’s audience to travel to another place—a happier place.
And I love being the one who invites others on such a journey, whether with glossy cards or through ivory keys.
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Tufts University Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Tufts University!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Tufts University Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Tufts University Admit —
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Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.
I gazed longingly from inside the glass walls.
I busied myself arranging, then re-arranging, elaborate floral displays, stuffed animals lining the shelves. I watched from afar as the real work occurred—nurses and doctors rushing hurriedly to their essential assignments, family members comforting one another.
When I signed up to volunteer at the hospital, I envisioned myself speaking with patients, assisting staff, logging crucial information into systems. I imagined myself helping alongside a physician, a hero like I dreamed of becoming. Instead, I was assigned as gift shop cashier, tucked away in the corner of the hospital atrium. I felt trapped in my inconsequential role—how could I make a difference while trapped amongst Hallmark greeting cards?
During my first shifts, as I organized keychains and small toys, I found myself thinking of summer visits with my grandmother. Her humble flat, laden with trinkets of its own: photographs and jewelry, chikoo and mangoes she had ready for visitors.
I observed happenings that resonated with me. Patients admiring necklaces, children enthused with trinkets and teddy bears, worried families closely examining flowers—each finding small semblances of strength in the items they browsed.
I thought of one summer with my grandmother.
Ammamma had thrown open the door to her flat in Kamareddy, beckoning us inside. The pressures of the year melted away, even if only slightly. We spoke of common family concerns—busy schedules, feeling overwhelmed. We shared more pressing concerns—my mother’s health journey, her experience with chemotherapy.
During the weeks we stayed with Ammamma, I also observed other guests venturing in and out of her flat. For her many visitors, she tried to ease their troubles, too. Ammama exuded both a traditional politeness and an uninhibited candidness. Friends from the town and its outskirts would flow in and out of her home, telling her of updates, and of troubles—a financial struggle for one couple, a family illness for another, young women with difficulties in their marriages. Individuals seeking comfort, wisdom, a temporary escape. Ammamma’s energy was a beacon of hope, her gifts cherished talismans. She helped her many visitors to step out of the waves of worry that crashed over their ankles.
Ammamma’s flat was an island—a respite from a sea of uncertainty.
Thinking of Ammamma and her relentless goal of helping others find peace, I realized that I could do the same, even from behind a gift shop register. As casual exchanges morphed into deep conversations, I noticed the raw emotion laced into crinkles and frowns. Each visitor seemed to find peace, or simply a welcome distraction, inside the glass walls. The gift shop was a brief escape—an island of its own.
I formed connections with visitors not only through pleasantries, but through talking about anything they wanted to share. While helping one visitor find a knit hat for winter, she told me of her journey with chemotherapy. As I shared my mom’s similar challenges, she showed me her hair loss, telling me of what she called her badge of honor. A concerned gentleman asked for help choosing flowers, eyes fixated on his hands. He told me about his wife’s recent surgery. I told him of my mom’s story, and her gradual recovery. He looked up at me, and I could see his worries ease.
I formed connections in the imperfect and the uncertain. Visitors shared what they needed in those moments—whether opening up about their concerns, or fixating on details of a keychain or teddy bear. Whether we shared tears, or little laughs forced amidst worries, we shared in truth.
My impact may have been small, but those moments in the gift shop reminded me that I can make a difference, no matter the space. Like Ammamma, I can ease others’ burdens in my own ways. Every new moment allowed me to continue toward my calling: to help others to heal.
I would do so forever—even on the smallest island in the largest sea.
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Dartmouth College Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Dartmouth!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Dartmouth College Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Dartmouth College Admit —
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Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.
Without fail, our costume change always made the crowd go wild.
Reverent tones of Bhaje Baaje gave way to the latest Tollywood hit. Our crowd looked on in awe and competed for the perfect iPhone snapshot. It was the moment we had rehearsed countless times. We were the swiftest and smoothest performers our crowd had ever seen—as we switched out our pancha jackets to Hanes white tees.
Admittedly, though, that costume change looked much more like a haphazard scramble—given that we were an all-boys dance ensemble of 10-year-olds.
While less-than-glamorous to our audience of aunties and uncles, those costume changes were my chance to reveal the “real me.” I relished in the moments of the on-trend choreography that followed. I oozed confidence and sidestepped tradition—to an auntie-approved extent, of course.
I emulated the confidence and strength of those I admired most at the time. Telugu hero Chiranjeevi and Disney’s Hercules had shown me that moments of glory came when you saved the day, for all to see. I had even witnessed my neighbor—a medical professional—swoop in and save my sister from choking when she was only months old.
I embraced that confidence during song changes—but off the stage, I was left reckoning with the dichotomies of my 10-year-old life. I’d begun feeding my curiosities in math and science, while daydreaming about a more fast-paced, romanticized future as a physician. I spent Saturday afternoons practicing for Math Kangaroo and Science Bee, while building skills slowly in U12 soccer. Along with quiet Saturdays, my time at home was punctuated with helping with small, day-to-day tasks, to assist my dad, who has physical limitations due to childhood polio. I took things upstairs or downstairs often, simply because my legs would take me faster.
The glory would be there—I just had to get older.
As I grew in both age and stature, I took on more heavy lifting around the house. It was clear how much my dad’s illness limited his abilities, and it gave me an opportunity to feel useful. As I shed the costume changes and Tollywood hits, I traded my visions of personal glory for more collaborative ventures. I tinkered and problem-solved with my robotics teammates. I trained and united with fellow soccer players.
With time, I discovered the most when no audience was there to see.
As my dad and I spent more time together during virtual learning, we cultivated a new project—our vegetable garden. During weeks sweating over dirt piles and seedlings, Dad shared details of his first months in the U.S. He told me of coming to this country alone, with slim employment prospects, and living with a roommate he barely knew. He told those stories of uncertainty and resilience as matter of fact, as though it had been a normal ordeal. But, to me, his stories meant more. He’d moved to a new place, with no support system, with stark physical limitations and an uncertain future.
That bravery alone was more incredible than any costume change.
I realized that strength comes in the choices we make and risks we take every day—especially when no one is looking. As the seedlings in our garden gradually blossomed into cherry tomatoes and dosakai melons, I developed renewed appreciation for the chances I’d been given. I delved further into mentoring younger robotics students, cultivated community as class vice president, and even registered to become a volunteer EMT.
I learned that lessons come in many forms, whether at plastic folding tables in a dimly-lit ambulance center, or in crucial moments with sirens blaring. I learned what glory means to me—whether I am taking vitals on scene, reassuring a nervous patient, or helping dad bring in the groceries. I learned that the real me is both pancha jackets and Hanes white tees.
And I realized that strength is forging your own path—even if your legs might take you there more slowly.
No audience required.
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Notre Dame Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Notre Dame!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Notre Dame Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Notre Dame Admit —
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Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
I replaced my soccer cleats, the familiar and tattered, with clunky steel-toe work boots, the unexpected—the new.
It was a few months before my fourteenth birthday. I biked the hilly mile from soccer practice to [Farm Name] for training as a farmhand. The farm was a well-kept secret nestled in the foothills of [Name] Park in [Town], [State]: a densely-populated town with traffic jams and bustling plazas. The farm is a treasure hidden amongst the masses.
On that first day, I learned to safely approach a horse. I learned feeding, watering, mending fences, and trimming weeds. I was small in stature but fiercely determined.
As my time on the job progressed, this determination propelled me through heavy lifting, and my small stature came in handy. I was the only farmhand able to manually push bales of hay on my knees below the eaves of the hay loft. I learned irrigation and haying. I navigated oversized tractors and the nuances of helping a horse in distress. I also, unexpectedly, learned the game of polo—a paradox in this working-class town.
On most days, I have three places to be—a school classroom, a soccer field, and the farm. But the farm has a magic to it. It’s where time seems to stand still just a little longer.
At 6AM, I watch fog lift off the grass while horses welcome me with soft neighs. On afternoons when I sit atop the John Deere to mow the field, I replay soccer successes and faults to the steady hum of the machine. On the days when I sit in the announcers’ stand to keep time for polo matches, I witness impassioned players battle for victory just as I do on the soccer field.
My work at the farm readied me, both physically and emotionally, for a mission trip this past June. I traveled to Mt. Vernon, Kentucky: another beautiful backdrop, this time nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.
There, I met a man named Mr. Vance. I had been told he lived in severe poverty and was in poor health. The years had worn hard on him. At first, he sat on the porch quietly as we entered the home with tools and materials. My service group was there to help repair the home’s worn exterior and interior, but I discovered more that day beyond the walls.
I took notice that his house was placed almost perfectly in front of a large field, with cows in the distance. I approached Mr. Vance, asking him about the house—it seemed like the home had a history. Neighboring homes had sprouted up around his, with uniform layouts and plastic siding. This new housing development contrasted with the quaint weathervane atop Mr. Vance’s house. Although it had holes wearing into the roof and floor and siding that showed signs of rot, his home told a story.
I shared stories with Mr. Vance about my job as a farmhand back home. He reluctantly spoke but warmed to me as we chatted about sweaty days of baling hay. As the week progressed, our conversations became more frequent. He vented concerns about changes in his town. We bonded over our mutual appreciation of nature, of the land.
After a week of flooring, insulating, and siding, we all gave Mr. Vance more autonomy. With his newly-repaired home and access ramp, he can continue to live an independent life, and still remain one-of-a-kind.
I have learned that the connections I make—in my surroundings, with horses and with humans—are all kept alive with inquisitiveness, intent, and compassionate regard. Every encounter is one that teaches me something about myself.
The farm at the foothills of [Park Name] and the town nestled in the Appalachian mountains are places I will never forget—not only for their tranquility, but for the connections they have created.
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Georgia Tech Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Georgia Tech!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Georgia Tech Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Georgia Tech Admit —
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The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?
When I first picked up my dad’s old harmonium, my seven-year-old hands fell naturally—to me, at least. With Pappa as my ever-appreciative audience, I learned basic scales and attempted beginner pieces.
Soon, though, I stepped into a world of structure.
At ten years old, I had my first glimpse of the music school: stacks of music sheets fighting for space on bookshelves, a tablet looming over black-and-white keys. Uncle sat upon his small stage, nodding with approval, as the other students played their harmoniums. I noticed their seasoned demeanors—and their synchronized hands.
When it was my chance to show my proficiency, I began a composition my Pappa had taught me. But Uncle halted my melody, and silence fell around me. My hands were a problem.
I might grip pencils with my right hand, but while playing harmonium, I was a very rare “lefty.” The unconventional way I held the instrument was impossible to overlook. I couldn’t re-write my history, though. Awkward as I might have appeared, I had always played that way.
Uncle took me as a student—though he admitted it would be difficult for righty to teach lefty. Over the next several years, I spent hours each day at our music school, repeating patterns past perfection, rearranging jhala conclusions, collaborating with other students. My “lefty” style followed along with me, as I fell more in love with the art.
However, concerns began to gnaw at me again as I prepared for [Name]. It was the biggest musical competition of my life. Harmonium has years of tradition and respect intertwined into its reeds and bellows. Would the judges be dismissive of my lefty technique? Further, the festival would be hosted by the Ismaili Muslim community. Would my composition—one in praise of a Hindu deity—raise eyebrows? As a half-Muslim teen, the competition was important to me, but my other half had driven the Hindu Agra-style compositions I played.
But my parents reassured me: the appeal of my art was that I was different. And that different kid had worked hard to gain acceptance. They reminded me of my first—and only—religion class as a child. According to my teacher, I couldn’t recite Muslim ginans and dua if I also wanted to pursue Hindu prayers. I simply had to pick one.
However, my parents and I continued to find our communities. We were welcomed to Pappa’s Hindu temple for Diwali, while I continued visiting Momma’s mosque for Navroz and Eid. I continued to pray at the mosque while practicing my faith at the temple.
As I rehearsed my harmonium composition for the festival, my parents continued to support me. With their inspiration in mind, I took the stage in New York City—and found acceptance there, too. I was even invited to play on the national stage in California, and later shared my art with hundreds of families.
Through music—and moments in my life—I’ve defied the notion that there is only one way to pursue a passion.
These days, as I mentor children in coding, my teaching ebbs and flows along with them. Success comes in moments when a student feels mastery during a basic lesson, or when a student relates to me over fantasy football or video games. Some students want to be “just like me”—others say they would “never” work with computers. But I continue to cultivate their motivation and curiosity by being accepting, diversifying my approach—and avoiding labels. That’s what I love about programming: everyone can find their own spark.
In my life, I continue to reject stringent labels—in hopes of progress, of acceptance. I’m grateful I was able to blend my faiths, and to grow up during a time when that blend is even possible. I’m lucky to open kids’ eyes to the creativity that lies in programming.
And, genuinely, I’m glad I’m still the lefty I was when my hands first felt the keys.
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Babson College Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Babson College!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Babson College Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Babson College Admit —
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Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
My mom and I each tossed a coin into the Trevi Fountain—35 years apart.
We were in vastly different places in our lives, our identities shaped in different worlds.
But when I was very little, my mom’s past seemed like a collection of beautiful snapshots. Traveling from St. Petersburg to Vienna, a stop on her family’s move to Italy. The Trevi Fountain in Rome, tossing her first coin for luck. Teenage years in Brooklyn, finding her way. Studying in college, learning and growing.
Fascinated by her stories, I embraced every opportunity to explore new ideas—and to hold onto them.
I began a collection of souvenir pins, slowly affixing pieces of my identity to my bedroom bulletin board. I gathered souvenirs from childhood visits to Brooklyn and Philadelphia, seeing cities with rich history and diverse perspectives. I held tightly to memories from concerts and theater productions—early lessons that a non-homogeneous world is a better place.
I gathered pins from childhood piano recitals, now reminders of times my parents began letting me find my own path. I have memories from the glimmering moments built during my years studying dance. I have hard-earned memories from track, the sport that let me trade in my ballet shoes and redefine my own limits.
As I gradually shaped my own identity, I learned more about my mother’s—and what it means to have your identity defined for you. When she had tossed her first coin into the fountain in Rome, her luck was her lifeline.
My mother’s childhood lessons had been filtered by those in power, her identity pinned on her by her country’s regime from an early age. Every morning during her childhood, she had to place a pin on her school uniform. That pin represented her country’s convictions, direction, and morals. Not her own. In the USSR during the 1970’s, all students wore these pins, presented as an honor that had to be earned. My mother was proud of the pieces of metal that shimmered and shined on her chest, not yet old enough to realize that she was brainwashed, her identity made for her.
As she made her way out with her parents, she had tossed her first coin into the fountain—the odds uncertain and path unclear.
She told me my father had also taken that uncertain path before they met. My parents both shared how quickly they threw away their pins upon arriving in the US, shedding the memories of the confines that once defined them.
But they always encouraged me to keep my pins, because they had childhoods they couldn’t choose. My parents know my pins encompass my missions, convictions, and hope. I look up to those pinned reminders of the opportunities I’ve been given, from intellectual exploration to entrepreneurial innovation. I reflect on those opportunities, chances that every girl should have. I take the steps I can to help dissolve barriers that disturbingly still exist in our world—knowing the luck my parents made for me.
Last summer, my mother brought me to see the places that defined her identity more than her childhood. She showed me Rome’s cultural landmarks, the Torvaianica house where she had stayed. We talked more about the darkest parts—and the glimmers of progress we can see. As we approached the Trevi Fountain, I saw a multitude of individual histories laced into the travertine. She told me of her first moment there, how the memory transformed by knowledge, by freedom, by choice.
I saw the trivium of three streets, the intersection of identities that my mom and countless others gradually re-built. Identities that anyone should be free to define—free of the barriers I hope my generation can dissolve.
35 years could change everything. I thought about what could be with 35 more.
When I tossed my coin into the fountain, I was free to define who I am—and I knew what the luck meant for me.
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UNC Chapel Hill Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—UNC Chapel Hill!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by UNC Chapel Hill Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— UNC Chapel Hill Admit —
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The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?
My first-ever team assignment: Project Chicken Nugget.
That Monday morning, dad and I exchanged a knowing glance about our shared mission: breaded, fried, and delicious.
With whispers in the hallway, we addressed the main problem to solve: not wanting to make mom feel left out. We assessed the crucial project constraints: (A) mom’s vegetarianism and (B) her painstaking efforts to balance our family dinner ritual with her demanding work schedule.
I relayed the plan, and its elegant design, to my little brother, my 2-years-younger accomplice in most of my childhood schemes. As soon as dad picked us up from school, we would make our way to our local McDonald’s drive-through. My brother and I would need to ensure that we had no signs of fried chicken grease staining our t-shirts, and we would have to keep our knowing glances and giggles to a minimum at the dinner table.
We refined the plan as the weeks progressed, adjusting as needed when mom became suspicious.
Even in our family move to a new town, Project Chicken Nugget persisted—and I valued not just our creative approach and exciting execution. I valued the conversations with my dad. I learned stories about his new clients, creative ideas from his colleagues, and more about his perspectives and values.
However, as the “new kid” in my town at the time, I was still an outsider, especially on my new middle school robotics team. I couldn’t connect with my teammates over inside jokes, so I tried to become the guy who had all the answers. I put more pressure on myself as the stakes grew higher.
During my sophomore year, as the youngest on my robotics competition team, I aimed to be the team member who knew how to do and fix anything. I spent my Saturday nights devouring YouTube videos, gathering skills and knowledge that I could bring to help my older teammates. We progressed far in the [Redacted] World Championships that year, but our team members had become distant from one another.
As I questioned my identity within my team, I gained understanding from hearing more of my dad’s stories. He had grown up in an environment where he needed to take every opportunity possible to achieve, but he learned more with every new environment. As he became more comfortable relying on others, he learned impactful lessons and the value of support. His stories made me more patient in my own learning process, and more comfortable in being authentic to myself.
I took this awareness to new spaces with my peers, and I realized that being more authentic helped me to foster friendships and to grow as a mentor. Instead of working only toward perfection, being authentic to myself in conversations with my teammates helped us to develop new skills together, even if we didn’t place as high in competitions. Laughing at myself helped me get elected for student government, being humorous with my peers through the campaign. Admitting my flaws helped me to become a better mentor for newer tennis teammates and younger runners.
While there are still inside jokes my mom might not know about, both of my parents’ influences gave me determination to pursue opportunities as they come, along with the appreciation for the less-controllable elements of learning. My parents’ blended perspectives, collaborative teams, and many informal families continue to show me the value of embracing the process rather than just the outcome.
With each new project, I’m reminded that the process always makes the goal more fulfilling. I notice that we learn more not only by working toward a common goal, but also by sharing our uncertainties and hopes along the way. And, with every new learning curve, I’m reminded of an important lesson from my first-ever team assignment.
When picked from the box resting precariously on the dashboard—sneaking bites between brainstorms and inside jokes—the chicken nugget always tastes better.
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Cornell ILR Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Cornell University!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Cornell University Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Cornell University Admit —
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Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
My grandfather and I communicate through words on yellowed pages, dog-eared corners on lessons he wants me to learn.
I pore over the pages of Around the World in 80 Days, sent to teach my eight-year-old self that impossible is not a word that I should ever embrace. Grandpa’s margin notes and emphatic underlines show me that life is too beautiful for me to ignore the beauty.
I mail him a novel in return, tucking a letter into the front cover. I have trouble finding words to articulate my gratitude, and I handwrite the note nearly seven times before it’s good enough in my eyes.
I can’t imagine I have much to teach him, but without fail he sends the next novel. To Kill a Mockingbird arrives in carefully-wrapped packaging. The injustice that Tom faced was the first spark of my passion for justice. As I read my grandfather’s notes about Atticus, I realized that the good guys may not always win, but righteousness is always worth fighting for.
Grandpa’s handwritten notes fill the margins, scrawled in his unmistakably messy handwriting. However, his comments appear calligraphy—perfect, priceless messages—in my mind.
This back-and-forth between Grandpa and me has continued since I was four years old.
From across the world, it was as if he knew that I was contending with being the only brown person in my elementary school, starving for understanding through my first experiences with racial prejudice. I revisited Tom and Atticus. I found strength to persevere.
Grandpa somehow knew the books that would help me as I eagerly awaited starting at my new magnet school. On my first hour-long bus ride, I sat alone and viewed the words he had sent. Sherlock Holmes’ adventures were a welcome respite from my nerves. Grandfather’s notes delineated how I had gotten to that point. Like Holmes, I needed not to simply accept the easiest path—but to discover the right path.
I looked through his eyes as I looked through the pages. I felt his emotions as I learned from the book he had read many times over. I wrote through his hands after I read the lessons he had intended for me.
I kept my faith as life threw me punches, both figuratively and literally. I had a steep learning curve as a debater at first, coming from a school where I tried to fade into the background. Grandfather’s shipment of Little Women—Jo’s unabashed confidence, Meg’s motherly instincts—gave me strength to find a voice and become a leader. Through Alcott’s words, I was compelled to form a non-profit organization, to tirelessly work for educational access. Those words compelled me to start a Debate Team, to form opinions about topics that were once beyond my depth, to communicate those ideas in a public forum.
Then darkness came into my home. These words I cannot put to paper, into a letter. Grandpa will never know. But he somehow knew that the things I needed were lessons passed through time. Handwritten notes decorating the pages of classics—only someone who truly understood me would ever know I needed them.
The darkness still exists, but the clouds part every day as I read of inquisitiveness, curiosity, and fearlessness. The sun is warm on my face as I see friends who are right there with me, speaking unabashedly as I have learned to do. Our conversations flow from philanthropy to academics to inside jokes. I see their faces—faces of all different colors.
I communicate my ideas to teachers, debaters, coaches, congressmen, co-founders, friends, through words I am no longer afraid to express. In my mind, I see the wrinkles forming around my grandfather’s eyes as he reads the next novel I send, and I feel the creases forming in the skin of his hands as he writes his next notes to me.
I know the notes will arrive safe and sound, written meticulously into the next book that arrives.
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Harvard University Accepted Alumni Essay
Explore an inspiring Personal Statement from a successful Accepted Alum who was admitted to their own dream school—Harvard!
See the student’s selected Common Application Essay Prompt—and the 650-Word Personal Statement that served as this student’s main college essay that year.
Discover the ideas, values, and stories appreciated by Harvard Admissions—and envision how your own story can come together this year!
Personal Statement
650 Word Maximum
Accepted Alumni
Essay Inspiration
Personal Statement Example
— Harvard University Admit —
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Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Seven beautiful bracelets adorn my right wrist.
They are not beautiful because they sparkle or shine. They are beautiful because they are tattered, fraying, clashing colors that align. They are beautiful because they are me.
I never take them off.
Growing up, I was always secretly ashamed of my Colombian and Puerto Rican heritage. Comments from friends about my darker skin tone, jokes about our arroz con gandules.
I looked into the mirror in elementary school, wishing that my skin could be lighter, my hair thinner, my last name indistinctive. I believed that through sheer persistence, I could make myself look like everyone around me. I couldn’t tell my parents, I didn’t want to be what you made me.
Then in middle school, I met my best friend, Kairyn. Kairyn flaunted her Spanish-speaking abilities, wore her Colombia jersey to school, and mentioned her ethnicity in every conversation with pride. I eventually opened up to her family about my previous conception of myself. I was afraid they would be mad. How dare I not be proud to be Colombian?
But they understood, hugged me, and told me I didn’t have to apologize. Her dad took off his beaded bracelet with the Colombian flag. As he fastened it around my wrist, the vibrant colors rested perfectly. The bracelet and my skin became things I wore with pride.
A week after, I made another bracelet with string from Target. A bracelet that I created purposefully with Colombian colors—yellow, blue, red.
That was six years ago. As a child, my parents had told me their stories. I thought of those stories as Kairyn’s dad gave me my bracelet and as I weaved the next. The stories all started to make sense. My skin, our Spanish, and our traditions made sense.My father’s stories of growing up with family struggles in Bogota resonated. My mom’s stories of growing up in a tight-knit family resonated. Mom had always told me of her childhood weekends: every Saturday morning, Bolero music her alarm clock, family spending the entire day cleaning together—laundry, dishes, dusting, scrubbing bathtubs.
My Puerto Rican grandmother, the matriarch of my mother’s family, gave me my third bracelet. She affixed the beaded bracelet from Puerto Rico to my wrist. Blue, red, and white make me think of her always.
This past summer, I taught two of my campers how to make string bracelets, hoping to give them something they could take to harder days. Eight-year-old Lilianna often needed me to call her parents, reminding them to pick her up. Caleigh, a nine-year-old on the autism spectrum, had some difficulties with her peers. Despite any difference, though, they embraced their identities. One afternoon, I taught the girls how to weave string bracelets, three of us in a circle. We easily made 20 bracelets that day, allowing the weaving to let our minds relax. They each gifted me one: two new memories, confidence to keep.
I look at my wrist today, and I also think of my trip to La Guajira. My dad, my brother, two friends, and I stayed in a single room with five twin mattresses. We used toilets that we flushed with buckets of water. Electricity cut in and out. But we saw love I will never forget.
We stayed on a dirt road and ate outside on plastic tables. A little girl and her brother, no older than ten, approached our family, selling beaded bracelets.Como están? Cuanto cuestan? I asked them. They noticed my brother and I were siblings right away. They teased one another, as brothers and sisters do, as they showed us their wares. They didn’t ask about life in America, about my dad moving. They didn’t care about a different life. They had theirs. They were Colombian and undeniably proud of it.
I bought my last two bracelets from the brother and sister. They scampered off to continue their Saturday.
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