Undergraduate / Supplement Essay on a Bad Decision. (I chose a bad haircut) [3]

As I reached for the handle and pulled open the salon's heavy glass door with one of my lanky arms, excitement consumed me. I was ready for a change, no longer wanting to look like all the other middle school girls it was time for my shoulder length brown hair and side bangs to go. Eighth grade marked a new year for me, one that I believed signified the end of my maturing. So, acting like any truly grounded adult I decided to get a trendy celebrity haircut. After countless hours of flipping through my most trusted middle school guidebook, Seventeen Magazine, I settled on a sassy bob a la Katie Holmes. Before I knew it I was sitting down in the stylist's chair showing him pictures of my dream haircut.

Just as the first piece of hair dropped to the floor so did my stomach. What was I thinking? The excitement from just a mere ten minutes before had dissolved and was now replaced by a sense of dread I had felt too many times before. It was too late to stop the stylist who was by this point wielding a pair of scissors in one hand and a lock of my hair in the other. As the layering and cutting progressed it only become more and more apparent that I couldn't have chosen a worse haircut for my face. The choppy layers and blunt bangs that the aforementioned magazine said would "frame my face and highlight my cheekbones" instead made my head look freakishly oval. The length was another issue altogether as the short cut exposed all of my neck, which now looked like it was more akin to that of a giraffe than of a human.

"Well, you can always put it in a ponytail!" exclaimed my mother upon laying eyes on my new do. If only this were the case. It would have taken dozens of bobby pins, gallons of hairspray, and maybe even a small crane to get all the short layers into anything that resembled a ponytail. I wish I could say that my classmates reactions were any better than my moms but sadly I was met with the same reassuring remarks about how fast hair grows out and how many different ways there are to pin bangs up with barrettes. Needless to say, I sat out the upcoming middle school social and opted to watch reality TV for the evening instead.

Though the experience was borderline traumatic for my middle school self my reputation and I managed to come out of it intact. After several weeks the horrendous situation on my head managed to grow out into a hairstyle someone might willingly have and I was able to attend social events again. I learned a lot of lessons from that haircut, one of them being never trust a magazine that suggests you ever wear a poncho or mix different animal prints "just to be edgy" and the other is that it's important to be yourself and try sometime different every once in a while. Even though this particular haircut didn't work out for me I did manage to differentiate myself and ended up keeping a somewhat shorter more sophisticated style. I admit that a little part of me is glad I went out on a whim and got what is hopefully the first and last bad haircut of my life.

Undergraduate / 'my parents still are to be a graduate' - Why Denison Essay [4]

I can still clearly remember walking onto the Denison campus on a frigid January day seven years ago. I was ten at the time and my parents, who graduated in the early 80s, had brought me to see the school on one of our trips to visit my grandparents in Columbus. As I walked around the first college campus I had ever been on, I tried to focus on anything but the sub freezing temperature by listening to my parents ' stories about meeting up in the student center or studying together in the library. They both had wonderful experiences at Denison, but made it clear to me that there would be no pressure to attend or even apply when the time came.

The fall of my senior year I found myself back on the Denison campus for a much more serious and official look. I'll admit that when my college counselor first proposed I add Denison to my list of schools, I was a little reluctant. "My parents went there..." I said, thinking those four words more than explained why I wouldn't be adding it. After doing some research myself it became clear to me that I could no longer ignore the obvious match I had found in Denison. First and foremost, it's the perfect size for me, small enough to feel like a community but still big enough to be able to meet new people all through college. Denison's strong academic reputation is also appealing, as I would be afforded the opportunity to explore my interests in English, psychology, and education in small, discussion-based classes. I was incredibly impressed by these departments because of the unique classes that are offered. As I read through the course catalogue I found myself intrigued by a number of classes ranging from the English department's nonfiction writing seminar and emphasis on creative writing to the psychology department's classes in psychology of learning, child development, and special needs. Additionally, I would like to write for Denison's school newspaper and literary magazine as an undergraduate student. Despite the strong and rigorous academics that Denison offers, I got the sense that many of the students value balance, something that is very important to me. Lastly, Denison is within an hour of my grandparents, which would be a nice comfort since I would be far away from my home in Portland, Oregon. After my second visit, I realized that I would be equally as excited as my parents still are to be a graduate of Denison University.

Undergraduate / 'a much more exciting social world' - common app essay [3]

I clearly remember sitting motionless in the passenger seat in my mom's car on one of the many grim winter days of my sophomore year. I was numb, unable to feel or think about what was happening at school. For two months, I had been carefully burying the truth, telling myself it wasn't a big deal and that I was being overly sensitive. But as I sat there that day, remembering every typed word, I knew it was time to do something. As I began to tell my mom, I felt a sense of relief knowing that I would no longer have to keep up the appearance of a bubbly teenager.

During freshman year, my group of friends broadened and I was quickly drawn into a much more exciting social world. The seemingly effortless and natural friendships I had established were abruptly disrupted sophomore year when several boys decided to tighten the social circle by eliminating those they deemed unworthy. Their primary weapon was the written word on a blog and I was their main target.

Many of their blog entries were made during my classes, which was hurtful and embarrassing as classmates read about me daily. Some comments were initially funny but within two months became sexually explicit and life threatening. My social life, which had always been a source of comfort at school, had become a daily nightmare.

In January, the school discovered the blog and seven boys were suspended. The aftermath was very difficult given all that had been written, the small size of our school and the fact that I was still in classes with most of the boys upon their return. For the remainder of the year, it felt like I was under a microscope with classmates and teachers watching my every move.

That summer, I reflected on what had been the most difficult period in my life and began the process of moving forward. I decided to stay at my high school even though many suggested I transfer. While I knew it would not be easy to return after experiencing such intense humiliation and betrayal, it was what I wanted to do.

I was nervous as I started my junior year, but was determined to re-establish myself both socially and academically. While I had previously been somewhat reserved in class, in my junior year I pushed myself to actively participate in discussions. I did not withdraw from social situations like I had sophomore year, but instead looked for ways to get involved. I also poured myself into my passion of working with children as a tutor at a local public school, which was very empowering, rewarding, and therapeutic. While my junior year was not easy, it was a success.

As I walked through the doors of my high school the first day of my senior year, I had a newfound inner confidence. The overwhelming panic I had experienced as a sophomore and daily nervousness as a junior were gone. After two very challenging years, I was at peace with myself.

My tumultuous sophomore year, though very painful at the time, ultimately acted as a catalyst for immense personal growth. While I have regained the bubbly and optimistic outlook I started high school with three years ago, I am a changed person in several important ways. I have a much clearer sense of what matters to me and now know I can fight through major adversity. Most importantly, I have developed a deep and unshakable belief in myself that is no longer dependent on others' validation.