Undergraduate / AN Influential Person-My Math Tutor-Princeton Prompt [5]

Any suggestions will be appreaciated. ^__^

Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way.

"YOU NEED A MATH TUTOR! Look at the score you got on this test!" shouted my mom.
All right. This time, I have no reason to repel.
Unlike most of my peers, I did not have any tutor experience. Stubbornly convinced of my ability to manage study independently, I did a good job without the extra tuition, except for math. However, no perfect math final score meant my dream high school closing its door. I braced to head to my first tutor, Mrs. Wang.

With the terrible first impression about the tutor thing, it was not a pleasure to spend my first three hours with this old lady in her cramped and moldy apartment on that humid night. Gazing at the complex equations and sketches, I wondered why the clock stopped. Mrs. Wang seemed not to notice my restlessness and to keep her speech in an equanimous tone.

Every Sunday night, you could see me on an almost empty bus heading for my tutor. Sitting in the corner with a shaded face, I watched the city passing by through the window. Without desiring the destination like what I did usually on the bus, I find this one hour trip surprisingly entertaining as it gives me the chance to think about the questions I neglected during my "busy life". So every time I step in Mrs. Wang's apartment, I feel tremendously peaceful.

Mrs. Wang always makes a cup of tea before she starts her lesson. Lack of a fancy teacup, or the expensive tealeaves, the process appears remarkably simple. But she does enjoy it. Every movement she makes is so sedate that it appeases me just by watching.

Mrs. Wang is truly serious about math. She has a towering pile of old and broken notebooks that contain the math problems she has collected for 30 years. Though without the brilliant look of a normal collection, they indicate a long history with sketches all over the margins. Mrs. Wang took out her old notebooks with an exciting smile. I see passion behind that smile. She remembers exactly every problem's location in the book. "Ah, here we go. Now see what you got." She copies the problem on my notebook with a challenging look that especially motivates me to do it. It works. Math is not so boring in this way. The process of thinking is not a torture any more. I can see every nerve in my brain connected in a unique order with fast speed and then "BANG", I got the right answer.

One day, we realized we went to the same high school, apart in 30 years.
Mrs. Wang gets extremely excited when she talked about her high school. "What I still cannot get over is when I went playing basketball game for school in Sihong. It was my first time to get a pair of white sneakers, to see a lighted basketball court, to eat so many delicious dishes with my teammates in a huge dining hall."

Isn't that me? The zeal for basketball?
Still in the daily life, I hurry to take the bus to different destinations. Most of the time, I am still that fickle. But when I go to Mrs. Wang's apartment and smell the mould mixed with the tea, all the distractions go far away and leave her and me staying there with the pure love for math.

Thank you!

Undergraduate / Bowdoin College Supplement Essay-How have you prepared for Bowdoin? [9]

Any suggestions will be appreaciated. Thank you!^___^

Bowdoin is a liberal arts college that thrives on intellectual discourse in and out of the classroom. Students, faculty, and staff all participate in the exchange of ideas in an atmosphere characterized by high achievement and a sense of balance. The Admissions Committee is eager to learn more about you and your school community. Reflecting on your own educational experiences, how have you prepared yourself to enter an academic environment like Bowdoin's? (Suggested length: 250-500 words.)

It was gloomy. On the crowded street, people ignoring the silent red light shuttled in the flowing of vehicles. I, alone, standing on the edge, waited for the hazy light turning green.

The campus on this raining Sunday afternoon looked desolate. There are only rainwater and fallen leaves on the basketball court. I walked in the dim building, occasionally passing by a lighted classroom with two students working with their heads down. Second room on the left on the fifth floor, I took out the keys, turned the handle. It opened.

The light wood fragrance emitted by the guitars and drums dispersed the bleak air. The studio was messy as usual. It looked just like an ideal place to play music.

I picked up the guitar leaning on the corner, unconsciously fiddled the strings with my thumb. Listened carefully, then I adjusted the string one by one. After hitting several chords, my numbed fingers warmed up. I turned around to search for the scores I did not finish practicing yesterday. They were a little bit broken, but still good to use.

It was not easy to maintain a rock band. Leaving the pressure of the study aside, it was already amazing to get over the slackness after several weeks of illusionary excitement and insist forwarding. I have seen too many ambitious clubs collapsed in the first month. Being in the band would not add scores on my test, neither would it make my college application look better. People wondered why I am so serious. Would abiding the mainstream be much easier, like anyone else?

I think that thought is too utilitarian. I am not keeping this band for anything else, but its own sake. I enjoy it. We are always told to aim far, but sometimes we forget to enjoy the path under our feet. That is something more real, more worth valuing. If we care about tomorrow all the time, what we did today is not important any more. Even though we are working hard today for tomorrow, we could not feel the satisfaction of achieving anything. In this busy city, on this pompous campus, it feels so good to just put my head down to do the things I purely love. I love my band, not only the nights on the stage where we pour our minds into our music and receive all the screams and applause, but also on my way to school for practice every Sunday afternoon, the crowded bus, the narrow path and the twinkling traffic lights.

Located on the far north in Maine, Bowdoin would be the best place to whisk off the dust and drown my heart into what I love. Not too close to the huge metropolis, Bowdoin establishes the perfect atmosphere to walk, to dig and to achieve.

I was wondering whether the part of bowdoin is too little that I have to add more, especially something detailed, like XXX program?

Thank you again.

Undergraduate / Chinese Cooking Master, What I did in the summer------Princeton supplement [8]

Please tell us how you have spent the last two summers (or vacations between school years), including any jobs you have held, if not already detailed on the Common Application.

Character limit is 2500, please help me phrase it and narrow it down.(Now is 2800 chars)

Honestly, impressing girls is why I started to cook. It works. But it gets serious when I dig in and realize I'm fascinated by this long-standing Chinese culture. Slicing two big bags of tomatoes, I did this for 20 days in a row. That was extremely exhausting as I had to slice them into the same size, which failed, and at the same time not to cut my own fingers. It was 97 degrees without air-conditioner. Basic skills are essential to a good chef, first thing my mater told me. He was a short and sturdy man, but when holding the turner, he moves smooth and natural. Harmony is the principle behind cooking. Fire, time, material and seasoning, I have to perfect every factor to make a good dish. Also, cooking is the most direct way to show affection to my loved. Giving a self-made meal surpasses everything. At home, I started to manage the kitchen. At the Senior Home, grannies smiled more happily when I set the table with the dishes I cooked.

The ideal of traveling alone always attracts me. Helped by my Coordinator, I planned this college-visiting trip. Finding 3 host families in Princeton, Manhattan and Boston, booking all the transportation tickets in the most economical way, packing every necessary into a little backpack, all the preparation was done in a week. By taking 1 shuttle, 2 flights, 3 rides, 4 trains, 15 subways and uncountable miles of walking, I fell in love with the 6 days of solitude. The independence gains me equanimity, offers the chance to consider problems I neglected in my routine life. Staying in the same environment confines me. I always know the best choice, but lack the courage to do it. Now with no acquaintances around, I cut off strings, act with reasons.

Working with my band mates is the best restart point of my high school life back in China. The familiar feel of haste when the concert is approaching brings back all the memories. In the same theatre, holding the same guitar, we sang the same songs with more mature mentality. New guys and a new studio, things are changing. What is unchangeable is our faith in music. One week before the concert, we started to squeeze the time to practice until 10 at night. The air was dark and fresh when we walked out of the studio with hurting throat and fingertips. Though the lights were turned off, we could still feel the drum beat echoing on the campus. The concert was a blast. When I fiddled the strings on the stage, I was immerged in a tranquility to realize that I am back, back in my hometown.

Thank you all. I appreciate all suggestions.

Undergraduate / Short Answer------Rock Band [3]

This is my short answer for the common application. It was about my extracurricular, which is my rock band and music. Hope I can get some helpful suggestions. Thank you!

"We need a guitarist, please join us."the caption reached out his hand.
I shake it.
Ten years ago, in the lane pervading with the perfume of onion and garlic, I hummed with that old cassette machine. Five years ago, in the busy and pompous downtown, I trotted with my guitar on the back. Three years ago, in the school full of the tinkling of reading, I met these guys with the same passion towards music. It was never a thing that I have to treat with an attitude, but already a part of myself.

First show, it was excited and nervous. It took time for running-in between the instruments, between the teammates. There are wrinkling guitar scores, fallen amplifiers, entangling wires and the calluses on my fingertips. The old studio before the performance was surprisingly peaceful: the light smell of mold, the creaking floor, the dimming lights, and the unstrained flying dust between the beans. I fiddled the strings, and the crisp sound flowed melodiously.

Second show, it was familiar and confident. Still messy was the rehearsal room; still peaceful was the old studio.
Third show, it was tacit and calm. Still fallen in love with the old studio.

Thank you.