Undergraduate / Common App: International Issue: Repatriation [2]

The prompt is to discuss an issue of importance (I chose one at the international level) and its importance to you. Please let me know general impressions, suggestions in making it more concise/clear, organization, word choice, repetition of ideas, good things, bad things etc. I'm looking for ways to make it very powerful, but also want to cut it down a bit.

A mention of nuclear war or global warming often merits a wave of apocalyptic hysteria, rendering normally reasonable people too unintelligible to recognize even the simplest of solutions. Like a college student faced with a hefty paper just hours before the deadline, we tend to throw up our hands and declare the problem too unmanageable to be tackled, the situation too dire to be remedied. This defeatist attitude brings to mind the oft-quoted platitude, "every journey begins with a single step." Though the cliché grates, the message is appropriate. Repatriation, a possibility recently thrown onto the stage of international relations, holds promise as that initial step. Essentially a return of historical artifacts to their "rightful" countries, it's an exciting road towards international good will.

The need for repatriation stems from centuries of imperialism, where looting rulers often stripped their conquests of anything valuable. Newly independent nations, still smarting from years of oppression, often regard their old oppressors with suspicion, if not outright hostility. I recall the grimness in one older relative's voice as he lamented that the Vedas' remnants are studied not in India, home of the Hindus, but in Europe. I hear the same palpable disgust with British colonization of India in my father's voice, who often notes the Kohinoor Diamond as evidence of Britain's robbery of India's riches. This resentment isn't unwarranted, testifies Africa's poverty and India's poor infrastructure, but surely it isn't a permanent wound, doomed to forever gape open and ooze unpleasantly?

Recently, Japanese Prime Minister Kan Naoto returned several artifacts seized in Japan's 1910 conquest of Korea alongside a formal apology. The move didn't erase the resentment that surrounds Japan's annexation of Korea, but it enforced the Japanese's respect for Korea as a sovereign nation. With one stunningly simple act of repatriation, old balm was applied to an old wound.

To be sure, shipping off every museum display home to its original address is hardly plausible. A walk through the Metropolitan Museum in New York City would enlighten anyone who favors such sweeping action. By no means a panacea, repatriation seems likely only when foreign artifacts hold significant cultural importance and are publically owned, as the Naoto artifacts were. Draining every Western museum of its substance doesn't make sense. Nor can implications of legal ownership be ignored.

Yet consider this: wouldn't Greece be elated with Britain, should the Elgin marbles be restored to the Parthenon? I'm sure Americans wouldn't feel amiably towards any country who claims for keeps the original Declaration of Independence or Constitution. Obviously historical artifacts aren't just musty old heirlooms but objects of great sentimental and cultural value. Their exchange has, in the past, fired up patriotic spirit but their return shows promise to sooth frayed relations.

Though diplomacy is dominated by crisp suits and carefully chosen words, it's a surprisingly emotional art. Throw into the mix objects that are near to a nation's heart and a powerful tool presents itself to the willing diplomat. The issue is close to my heart as well: an enthusiastic History student, I'm refreshed to see my favored subject used for such noble purposes. Unfortunately, history is often relegated to the shelf of useless information by those who think only the erudite could appreciate it. Yet repatriation uses history as a weapon of practicality, turning the past on its head with modern reconciliations. With so many problems plaguing the world, this is a simple, easy gesture that can make a world of difference. While legal and bureaucratic obstacles will present themselves, as they invariably do, repatriation should still be considered when viable. To dismiss it as too inconsequential a solution is akin to refusing to dress an open wound because no surgeon is available. To repeat another irritating banality: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Repatriation, a minute yet simple opportunity, should be seized upon like the juiciest of lemons.

Undergraduate / I was Suspended and spent a day in ISS: CommonApp [5]

On October 2nd, 2008, I served a one day in-school-suspension because of truancy, which occurred on September 25th.

It was a very stupid decision: I chose to finish a brief vocabulary assignment in the backseat of my elder sister's parked car before going to first period. Even as I stayed back when my sister rushed off to her first class, I knew I was taking advantage of my privileges. The mistake was a gross abuse of the trust placed in me by my parents and sisters, the latter who allowed me to come to school with her by car rather than ride the bus each morning like other underclassmen. It was an abuse of the trust placed in me by my school as well; I was always allowed to check in late, even without a parent to verify my honesty. That my values were compromised for such a petty matter is shameful, and I recognize and accept my failure to uphold my honesty and integrity that day. Looking back, I should have gone to class immediately, regardless of the low grade I would have received, or that I was "already late anyway."

After news of the incident rippled through the student body, I gained a brief and embarrassing notoriety as "the girl who got ISS for doing homework." Some laughed, amused at the prospect of someone so typically straight-edged sitting among the "juvies" for a day. Regardless of my upstanding past and benign motivations, though, I accepted the punishment. I didn't finish last night's homework. The worst consequence would have been a zero in the grade book and a disappointed teacher. Yet in the heat of the moment, enticed by an unfair opportunity, I mistakenly placed more value on an insignificant grade than in my personal integrity. The relapse in judgment has nonetheless shown me a new perspective. Grades, romance, status, money - all are at times overblown beyond their actual significance. With my experience more than two years behind me, I now make sure to evaluate the true value of the issues at hand. Careful not to develop the same tunnel vision, I understand that it is necessary to prioritize my concerns in relation to my integrity and ethics. It is my hope that a juvenile mistake, now a source of growth, does not mar your perception of me as a student.

what are your impressions? should I leave out the last sentence? should I add anything?

Undergraduate / "the Colors of my Room" - Yale Supplement [7]

please edit this: rip it apart. cut out the overly sappy parts - tell me if I should expand on something. is anything useless and should be cut? too awkwardly worded? I won't be

offended, just be blunt and forthright.

the question is just : tell us something about you that we might not get from the rest of your application - something you would like a chance to say more about (500 words)

I'm at 570 words. Here's an edited version:

It's a small room - not particularly tidy or well decorated, and the bed is hardly ever made. The yellow walls were painted just days after my family moved in, an impulsive move borne of my sheer enthusiasm for finally having my own room and thus color-picking rights. They aren't exactly smooth; you can still see the smudges on the ceiling where I loaded the brush up with too much paint and it dripped. But the walls are still bright yellow despite the various nicks and scratches accrued over the years and they still mean the same thing to me - sunshine. I like to think that my room's perpetual warmth, even in the midst of a blizzard crazy enough to warrant several consecutive snow days, is a consequence of my fateful color choice in Home Depot all those years ago. Standing in front of the spectrum of paint chips, I was instinctively drawn to the sliver of yellow between Cardinal Red and Sunburst Orange. Fashioning myself a future HGTV star, I picked almost every other facet of my room's interior with that single paint chip in mind, and so for some time my room was a blinding burst of yellow curtains, bed spreads and of course, walls, to the unaccustomed visitor.

Over the years, new colors have snuck in. There's a rose colored calendar hanging on one wall, reminders to return library books and visit my grandmother meticulously scrawled in. Over the calendar hang a series of colorful cards from ex-middle school students I once tutored. "My Algebra teacher is psycho," is written prominently across one flowery note from a girl now excelling in Honors Geometry, followed by several gracious thanks for the time I spent tutoring her. I tacked it up over my desk at the end of the last school year, hoping to remind myself of the fruits of perseverance on those nights of late night studying.

The desk and its surrounding wall seem to be where most of my recent endeavors are recorded. A thick pile of Harry Potter books lies across one adjoining shelf, reverently placed with a level of care that seemed to be absent when I cavalierly tossed my textbooks onto the nearest flat surface. The seventh part lies open at the top so that its world of magic is easily within grasp should I fall into my frequent reading moods. In close company to the Harry Potter shelf is a collection of Meg Cabot books, a guilty pleasure that seems out of place next to Faulkner's The Wild Palms and Vonnegut's Pearls before Swine, both books I initially resented but later came to appreciate through the coaxing of my AP Literature teacher.

On the other side of the room, the closet door is thrown wide open, clothes spilling out in a futile attempt to get the attention of someone who cares little for them. To their frustration, I seem to have an endless supply of school t-shirts proclaiming my pride in the Monroe Falcons, whom I have come to favor now that I'm a soon-to-depart senior. Hopefully the purple and gold that dominates my wardrobe will soon shift to Yale Blue; some already peeks out from the glowing laptop placed precariously at the edge of my bed. I've made my mark in this room. Hopefully, the Yale application on the screen insinuates, I can go out and imprint myself onto bigger and better places.

Undergraduate / "Camp and Death" - Summer Essay for Princeton [7]

Okay, my essay basically sucks right now, and I have no idea how to fix it. First of all: it's way too long. The limit is 2000 char. I'm at 2200. I realllly need to cut it down! Also: I want to know if this is an appropriate response. The question asks what I had done for the last two summers. I've done a lot the last two summers, but I chose to focus on my experiences at a Temple I always volunteer as a counselor at because it shows the variety of experiences (horrible to uplifting) that I've gone through. I had a summer class, traveled extensively, went to literary conferences; all that good stuff. So do you think its ok to just... ignore that? It's all on my resume anyway...

Princeton Supplement: Describe what you did the last two summers.

Every summer, I invariably spend a week in a shady corner of Pennsylvania. _____ Temple, a lotus shaped temple nestled amidst the pastures and cornfields of ______ becomes my home for that week, its pink walls housing many of my treasured summer memories. For the last two years, I was one of ten counselors at the temple's annual summer camp for kids. From 7:00 AM to 10:00 PM, my fellow counselors and I shepherded the kids through teeth brushing, yoga, morning walks, Frisbee games, basketball tournaments, debates, prayers, and the occasional conflict between ex-best-friends. In between making sure that everyone had a buddy, I ran between buildings to make sure every water cooler was well stocked in the sweltering July sun and served the ever-hungry masses of children their food. I choreographed performances for the girls in anticipation of the camp's cultural show, and showed reluctant boys how to thread a needle during arts and crafts time. And at the end of the day, after reassuring the kids that there were no monsters lurking the hallways, I joined the other counselors at late night meetings to discuss what the next day would entail.

Some of my memories of Vraj, however, are bittersweet. Four days into my first week as a counselor, my grandfather passed away. The next morning, I was in a car crash on the New Jersey Turnpike as I was driving with my father from ______ to the funeral. I've been blessed with blissful summers, filled with carefree bicycling and frequent ice cream outings, but these recollections are interrupted by those two ugly confrontations with death. I still flinch at the thought of how that day could have played out otherwise - what if I had hit one of the many trucks also on the road? My mother and siblings would have to mourn not only by beloved grandfather, but two more deaths, at the funeral that afternoon. The thought still gives me pause, even after all these years.

And so, my recent summers have been filled not only with summer camps and poolside lemonade but also more somber lessons of the frailty of life. Mixed in with uproarious summer nights and capturing fireflies were summer classes and dark reflection.

Also: what do you think of the final paragraph? Should I end things better? Please be excruciatingly cruel! I need you to rip it apart!

Undergraduate / "A Moment During Dance Class and the Importance of History" - Brown Supplement [9]

Prompt: Why are you drawn to the academic fields you indicated in the Anticipated Degree and Interests field? (I indicated History)

My Bharatanatyam teacher once asked me whether I knew just how old the Classical Indian dance form I had been practicing for so long was. I didn't. "3500 BC," she said, reverence richly layered in her voice. I had been confronted with more far-reaching dates than that one, but never before had the depth of time struck me so swiftly. The twisting of henna stained fingers, the rustling silks and golden jewelry, the throbbing beats of the Mridangam; these were traditions passed on for thousands of years: from the beginning of time, it seemed, all the way to the golden bells tied around my ankles that day. It still gives me pause to imagine how long the hand of time and tradition extends into my life. The realization of today's debt to the years preceding is still a subject of great interest to me - some semblance of knowledge of the past is a requirement to understand the present beyond just shallow observation. Origins, I've found, are far more telling than present day characteristics.

Also... I need to cut exactly 20 CHARACTERS. Any suggestions on how to do this?

Undergraduate / Why Columbia: A Unique but Unusual Approach. Is it too Wierd? [14]

The question is essentially "Why Columbia?" Please point out parts that are too vague, awkward, wierd or poorly stated. Also, please tell me which parts are good or need to be expanded on. That's helpful too. Considering the selectivity of Columbia, the essay has to be very good. At this point, I know its passably decent, but I want it to be "perfect," at the risk of sounding obsessed.

"It's dying," the whispers surrounding me hiss, ever louder as the impending end looms closer. The newspapers, suave anchormen, angry pundits, and defeated academics - the whole of practical society - all declare in one discordant condemnation: the liberal arts education is no more.

I know the truth though. Such hysteria and rumor mongering is put to a triumphant rest by Columbia, a large research university at the heart of throbbing NYC that provides all the practical advantages of modernity and progress yet preserves the ideal of broad based study with its unmatched Core Curriculum. Columbia's dedication to the pursuit of knowledge solely for the sake of becoming knowledgeable has made it my top choice. Bread based education I like that line, a degree good only for a comfortable desk job and a neat house in Suburbia with two cars on the driveway, isn't a fate I care to surrender myself to. I want to immerse myself: test the limits of my mind and stretch its imagination into every area of study, to walk into a dinner party and converse with the musician and the scientist with equal dexterity, to marinate in the atmosphere of knowledge and exploration that is so palpable at Columbia's campus. At Columbia, I can go from Ancient Greece to Microbiology to Music Theory. To do this amidst the smoke and lights of the most cosmopolitan city in the world brings together education and opportunity in an explosively perfect combination.

Thank you! Impressions? Errors? Comments?