Featured Supplemental Essay Prompt For Texas A&M Applicants:

Tell us your story. What unique opportunities or challenges have you experienced throughout your high school career that have shaped who you are today? 750 Word Maximum.

Successful Supplemental Essay Example From Our Accepted Alumni Student:

Every Friday night, I would find myself in close quarters with strangers, their luggage packed snugly into the trunk of my dad’s Honda Odyssey.

My father—a chauffeur on the weekends—welcomed small talk with the families he’d drive to the airport, on the way to their next adventure.

Meanwhile, at ten years old, I was on a path not toward adventure—but toward passenger seat rides, clutching my dog-eared copy of Throne of Glass. With painful anxiety that these strangers would strike up conversation, I met their pleasantries with one-word answers—even sometimes just a simple shrug.

After dropping off families, Dad and I would stop at Dunkin Donuts. After Dad would grab his obligatory coffee, he would smoke a Marlboro, stretch his calves on the curb, greet passersby.

I would grip onto my book more tightly, letting the words bring me to a place where I could only wish to be so self-assured.

I was painfully quiet, and had little in common with my peers at my mostly-white elementary school. My parents, immigrants from India, were starkly religious, embraced the temple over the movie theater, sent me to school with biryani, not Lunchables.

I found outlets that allowed me to be the “quiet kid”—books, mathematics, card tricks. And, the prospect of a STEM-focused magnet school was my ticket out of my homogenous town. From sixth grade to senior year, I’d finally make friends who embraced robotics over baseball, and reading over theme parks.

But sixth grade was a rude awakening. My classmates were self-assured and outspoken. Many of them had pre-existing friend groups, while I knew no one. Even worse, my parents had signed me up for debate. My first debate practices were painful, as I struggled through public speaking, conversation, and critiques.

Ironically, the place I began feeling most comfortable became the car rides with my dad.

Our airport trips became a time for me to learn from older people—who I realized weren’t actually judging me. With passengers, I chatted about topics that I’d become curious about: international affairs, economics, and entrepreneurship. I even learned from my dad, as he shared past insecurities—from carving identity in the US to fostering new friendships.

Gradually, I took conversations with investment bankers to debate discussions on promoting financial literacy. I brought talks with engineers to debate rounds addressing ethics in AI. I brought skills learned from data analysts to developing my closing arguments.

My burgeoning confidence—built during conversations with these adults—even helped me connect with my middle school classmates. In 7th-grade science class, I made new friends as we laughed through seemingly-endless revisions of our Rube Goldberg machine. During 8th-grade lunch waves, I started performing amateur magic tricks, and kids would walk over and ask me to teach them, too. Once-awkward chats gradually became genuine friendships.

In the years since middle school, I’ve continued to build confidence—and community. With Robotics, instead of working behind the scenes, I thrived in our business outreach work. I joined student council, and now even serve as Vice President. Throughout challenges of Debate, and new skills with MUN, I continued to grow—navigating tournaments, guiding our MUN program, even leading as Debate Captain.

As I work on these projects—and conduct these conversations—I think back to the adults who made me feel noticed, even when I sat reclusively in the passenger seat. Now, whether mentoring younger debaters, delegating tasks to my robotics business team, planning events to unite our magnet school, or teaching young students math and writing, I make it a point to seek out the “quiet kids.”

I’m glad I’ve found my passions for discussion, debate, and learning through conversing—but my goal isn’t to make anyone more talkative than they feel comfortable with. I simply want them to know their strengths are noticed, their opinions are important—and that their presence is valued.

Even if they meet my words with a simple shrug, I know I’ve done my job.