Back in the day this would have been handwritten on yellow legal pad, likely illegible at times, with multiple, scribbled cross-outs, and a few pages destined to be crumpled three pointers in the trash bin across the room. The technology has changed, and I happily welcome the cut and paste. The process, however, remains simple and true; write from the heart and tell your story. Here’s a snippet of mine, a la prompt number one:
2017-2018 Common Application Essay Prompt #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. [No change from 2017]
My secret was safe. For years, I dared not share the truth. My haunting confession? I was the captain…of the varsity bowling team. Fortunately, with maturity comes clarity. Cautious avoidance of misperceived embarrassment has given way to a strike of pride and warm reflection on my alley days. I realize in hindsight the true significance was not in the well-aimed, arcing hurl of the ten-pounder, (though the rare turkey was met with raucous jubilation.) The lasting impression and fondest memories are of time spent in sport alongside amazing and athletic young women with whom I shared the lanes each day; they were a cache of inspiration, uniqueness, and diversity.
I can conjure the clickety-clack echo of lengthy, meticulously manicured fingernails as my style savvy teammate released one in a series of perfectly aimed shots. I recall the fashionably incorrect, embroidered, polyester team polo shirts, in which we looked surprisingly cute. Plus the shoes, those ice blue and white shoes, perfectly coordinated to complement my personalized, marbled ball. We feasted frequently on Taco Bell post practice, with little regard for caloric intake as our teen metabolisms valiantly defied saturated fats. We traveled island-wide by yellow bus for meets, and chalked up our victories to a fortuitous combination of luck and training. We chuckled with our hilarious coach/beloved math teacher, who tragically passed not long after our graduation.
Years later, I have confidently arrived, and I shout it loudly and proudly: I was a high school bowler! The enduring impact is not the explosive crash of ball into pins; it is the fulfilling camaraderie and collaboration. I learned to be an individual within a team, and to cheer for another even when I tanked. Fast forward, and it’s 2017. I am a Wii 100 Pin Bowling champ in our family living room league, and I still hold my own at the lanes. My eight year old concurs, and tells me I am “smooth”. Truth be told, the bumpers come in handy, and would have been quite an asset thirty years ago. The mathematical satisfaction of a strike following a spare, and the frustration of a missed ten pin remain consistent, as does my love for the sport. The varsity letter may be tucked away in a drawer, but I am, evermore, a ten pin gal.
