Undergraduate / 'I spent plenty of time watching television' - your major and your school; why did you choose it? [3]

Prompt: What are the unique qualities of Northwestern - and of the specific undergraduate school to which you are applying - that make you want to attend the University? In what ways do you hope to take advantage of the qualities you have identified? (300 word maximum)

Essay: Growing up, I spent plenty of time watching television. Watching TV inspired and encouraged me to pursue engineering. I saw what I wanted to become on my television screen. Whenever the hero was in trouble he would rush towards the engineer for assistance. The engineer would solve the problem and the hero would go back on his wild adventures while the engineer stayed back, working on his craft. I was never daring or courageous as a child, so I always envisioned myself as the engineer. As I grew older, the concept of being an engineer became more and more intriguing to me. I started going to job and college fairs to gain every scrap of information I could find. I even interrogated my father, who used to be an electrical engineer, for days on end. He informed me that an engineer needs to know how to apply science and mathematics to real world problems. He told me that it was tough but ultimately rewarding. This stoked the fire inside my heart and it lead me to challenge myself in high school. I went out of my comfort zone and took the more challenging science and math classes, worked harder than I ever had before and learned more than I thought possible.

Now nearing graduation I faced one last hurdle. Where did I want to apply? I scoured the city's colleges, looking for the right one. Some didn't have the courses I was looking for, many lacked the depth I desired, and others lacked the right professors. It was only near the end of my journey that I found Northwestern, a college that met all my needs. I believe that Northwestern will help set me on the path to becoming an engineer, something I have been preparing my whole life for.

Undergraduate / ITT Entrance Essay - "What subjects inspire you?" [2]

Hi guys. I was trying to make this essay flow like a narrative so it would be more relatable but I think I might have gotten off topic. What do you think of the essay? Do you think I answered the prompt?

Prompt: For nearly 125 years, Illinois Tech students have been inspired to create, innovate, and find new ways to solve tough problems. Tell us which academic areas inspire you?

Essay: Anticipation, excitement, and euphoria. These are the emotions that race through my mind when I finish writing the code for a program and hit the compile button. A flurry of thoughts rush through my head, more than I could even process. Will my program work? What if Java crashes? Have I saved in the last three hours? It's as if my brain is attempting to compile my own emotions and thoughts when I hit that button. After this roller coaster ride of emotions it's finally time for the moment of truth. I want those two words to appear on the screen more than anything, I want them to let me know that everything's alright. But I don't see those two words on the screen, not yet. What I see on the screen is "error". I'm greeted by rows and rows of my code defiled by yellow lines. This word doesn't phase me, not anymore. It's simply a part of the process, the hardest and most time consuming part. I crack my fingers, readjust my glasses and gaze at that bright, fluorescent screen. I pore over every ounce of code, counting the spaces, checking the cases, and verifying the statements. It takes me hours to finish debugging this program.

"It'll all be worth it once I see those two letters" I think to myself in an attempt to keep my spirits high.

Once again, it was time for the moment of truth. I could feel the excitement coming over me, my hands shaking as my cursor hovered over the "compile" button. I pushed down gently with my index finger and waited. I waited for those two words to grace me with their presence. But they do not. Instead I'm greeted with those same yellow streaks as before, highlighting my every mistake. I repeat the painstakingly time consuming process of debugging over the course of an hour and a half. This goes on for a few more days until I get everything right.

This time I know that the program is ready. My hand is as steady as a rock. My cursor hovers over the compile button and my index finger pushes down once again. The ride begins once more, however, this time I'm prepared. I know I counted the spaces. I know I checked the cases. And I know that I verified the statements. I'm cool, calm, and collected this time. My mind mimics the computer in front of me, smoothly compiling everything. Then the two magic words appear: "Compilation Complete". I let out a smile and can feel the joy oozing back into me. This is the moment I had been waiting for, this is what made it all worth it. This moment felt so amazing not only because the program worked but because it was the culmination of all of my favorite subjects. I was greatly inspired by the critical thinking we had to use in math class, the objectivity we learned in Science class, and the creativity that we were issued in English class. Each one of these elements came into play when I was writing my code. And ultimately that is why computer programming inspires me. When I finish a program and it works, I get to feel the joy of utilizing math, science, and English all at once. I can't get that feeling anywhere else.

Undergraduate / The sweet succulent aroma of food oozed into my room through the partially opened door [2]

Prompt: Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

The sweet succulent aroma of food oozed into my room through the partially opened door. It trickled in through my nostrils, reminding me of a simpler time. My eyelids gradually rose and so did my senses.

"Hurry up, breakfast is ready!" my mother bellowed, yanking me back into reality.
I rose from my bed, and journeyed toward the table, leaving a trail of blankets, pillows, and clothes in my wake. I stationed myself on the seat and began ogling my food. It was Halwa Puri a fine tasting delicacy that you would rarely find in the west. It reminded me of my home in Pakistan. The bustling streets that were filled to the brim with people from all walks of life. The man selling Kulfi (a traditional Pakistani ice cream,) the woman begging for some rupees, the business man who was dressed as sharp as can be, the sleazy creature who would sell his own spawn for a quick buck, and the innocent little kids, heading towards school without a care in the world.

"Why did we have to move to America?" I thought to myself.
"Why couldn't we have stayed in Pakistan?"
I glanced at the clock and realized that it was time to head out for school. I packed my things and walked out the front door; chained to my thoughts, I was blind to the world around me. This was my first day as a fifth grader.

My fifth grade teacher instructed us to write an essay on a topic of our choosing. I chose to write about my experiences in Pakistan and how they differed from my experiences in America. My teacher talked to me after class and told me that she loved the way I injected my emotions into my writing. She wanted to discuss my dissatisfaction with America and gave me a new perspective on things. I began to think about these things on my own, I began to look inside myself for answers. Did I dislike America because it was different or did I dislike America because I wanted to? Was I the cause of my own unhappiness? The answer to both of these questions was yes.

I ended the year with a much greater understanding of both myself and the world around me. On the first day of sixth grade. I woke up in a haze. I ate my food in a tired and monotonous fashion, I had grown tired of my mother's cooking. I glanced at the clock and packed my things. I opened the front door and a flurry of images struck me. I started walking towards school and I something quite peculiar. I saw a man selling ice cream, a beggar, a well-dressed business man, and even a sleazy con. I even saw droves of kindergartners scurrying off to school. These were the same type of people that I had seen in Pakistan and I hadn't noticed them before because I didn't want to notice them. I was distorting the world around me in a futile attempt to get it to fit into my narrative.

"I guess America isn't so different after all." I thought to myself.
I let out a smile and I realized that while the faces changed, the streets stayed the same.