This was my essay for Columbia and U of Chicago. I feel like it described a more cumulative/specific set of experiences compared to most of the app essays I've read. Please read mine and give an opinion (names/places were changed)
Mr. Edwards
Armed with a brazen southern drawl and a sassy strut, he had introduced himself as Mr. Edwards, our new debate teacher. A wave of snickers had swept across the class as eyes shifted from his beer gut to the vulgar gap that interrupted his grin, but he acted oblivious to the mockery. I remember those fifty-three minutes of the first day of high school clearly, because it would be the start of two years that would affect my thoughts, actions, and perspective of the world with momentum unlike any other.
From the first days in his fifth period debate class, I could see how Mr. Edwards's incredible enthusiasm for the art of argumentation was reflected in his students. As he patiently explained every nuance of winning an argument, he encouraged immediate application of his teachings through competition. The passion radiating from him and his classroom was inexplicably contagious, and soon I was inspired to approach my goals with the same amount of dedication and drive. I vividly remember the first tournament I competed in during my freshman year where I had stuttered and stumbled my way through a number of lost debates. The support he showed after every round, whether a win or loss, motivated me to continue to compete and improve obsessively as the semesters rolled by. When I started to accumulate a gleaming collection of trophies, I had him to owe my success to and shared my happiness with.
The lessons Mr. Edwards taught me about people, however, were bittersweet. His infamous quirky personality showed in his blunt words, effeminate demeanor, and aggressive attitude. His indiscriminate recruitment tactics amassed students from every high school clique, from football players to party girls to math enthusiasts. This exposure allowed me to break out of my shell and find a common interest with strangers from every corner of my enormous school. Spending time in a crowded bus on late nights to and from tournaments, I became acquainted with those that would become my closest friends. I also found increasing comfort in being outspoken among a largely conservative student body by absorbing Mr. Edwards's unapologetic boldness. However, I began to observe how this same boldness had warped into his lack of sympathy for rules. While earning the worship of his debaters, his rebelliousness drove away acceptance from the school administration and faculty.
His obvious personality flaws had not bothered me too much, as I became distracted and enamored with all the world issues debate had introduced to me. Mr. Edwards knew everything about politics, economics, and international relations while I knew next to nothing. Through his lectures and conversations, I began to see the cocktail of problems plaguing the world and was challenged to find possible solutions. These issues began to surpass the euphoria of winning a debate round; I itched to see and even make active changes in the topics that were raised. Starting a political group that rivaled the views of my school's majority, I wanted to raise awareness and volunteer efforts to support what I began to form an opinion about. Even my taste in literature and entertainment were affected, as I started filling my bookshelf with issues of the Economist and chose to watch Michael Moore documentaries in lieu of the latest romantic comedy.
While all of this took place, a war was being waged against Mr. Edwards by a group of the same administrators and teachers he had irritated throughout his year of employment. The news of his termination was a shock to our team, and I did everything possible to keep his position at our school. Marching down to protest at district meetings and holding conferences with our principal, I fought hard for the man that had supported me so much. In the end, no number of heart-wrenching letters and eloquently worded speeches could save him. He was gone by the start of my junior year.
When I look back to the mere two years that Mr. Edwards had occupied in my life, I still believe that he has played the biggest role in my maturation as an individual. My interest in world issues and the intricacies of politics derived from his talents in what he taught. I want to be as passionate and dedicated in what I do as Mr. Edwards was, who labored countless unpaid weekends and late school nights out of love. His last months working at Bellaire inspired me to be proactive and stand up for whom I believe in and not just passively wait for change. However, my understanding of the justification behind his termination allowed me to see the necessity of avoiding his mistakes: obstinacy, thoughtlessness, and unnecessary hostility. All things considered, the best times of my last four years were proudly attributed to him, whether they were spent at a tournament, his classroom, or the school district building. I often mull over everything his time at Bellaire had taught me, and I fondly picture his sassy strut now and then.
Mr. Edwards
Armed with a brazen southern drawl and a sassy strut, he had introduced himself as Mr. Edwards, our new debate teacher. A wave of snickers had swept across the class as eyes shifted from his beer gut to the vulgar gap that interrupted his grin, but he acted oblivious to the mockery. I remember those fifty-three minutes of the first day of high school clearly, because it would be the start of two years that would affect my thoughts, actions, and perspective of the world with momentum unlike any other.
From the first days in his fifth period debate class, I could see how Mr. Edwards's incredible enthusiasm for the art of argumentation was reflected in his students. As he patiently explained every nuance of winning an argument, he encouraged immediate application of his teachings through competition. The passion radiating from him and his classroom was inexplicably contagious, and soon I was inspired to approach my goals with the same amount of dedication and drive. I vividly remember the first tournament I competed in during my freshman year where I had stuttered and stumbled my way through a number of lost debates. The support he showed after every round, whether a win or loss, motivated me to continue to compete and improve obsessively as the semesters rolled by. When I started to accumulate a gleaming collection of trophies, I had him to owe my success to and shared my happiness with.
The lessons Mr. Edwards taught me about people, however, were bittersweet. His infamous quirky personality showed in his blunt words, effeminate demeanor, and aggressive attitude. His indiscriminate recruitment tactics amassed students from every high school clique, from football players to party girls to math enthusiasts. This exposure allowed me to break out of my shell and find a common interest with strangers from every corner of my enormous school. Spending time in a crowded bus on late nights to and from tournaments, I became acquainted with those that would become my closest friends. I also found increasing comfort in being outspoken among a largely conservative student body by absorbing Mr. Edwards's unapologetic boldness. However, I began to observe how this same boldness had warped into his lack of sympathy for rules. While earning the worship of his debaters, his rebelliousness drove away acceptance from the school administration and faculty.
His obvious personality flaws had not bothered me too much, as I became distracted and enamored with all the world issues debate had introduced to me. Mr. Edwards knew everything about politics, economics, and international relations while I knew next to nothing. Through his lectures and conversations, I began to see the cocktail of problems plaguing the world and was challenged to find possible solutions. These issues began to surpass the euphoria of winning a debate round; I itched to see and even make active changes in the topics that were raised. Starting a political group that rivaled the views of my school's majority, I wanted to raise awareness and volunteer efforts to support what I began to form an opinion about. Even my taste in literature and entertainment were affected, as I started filling my bookshelf with issues of the Economist and chose to watch Michael Moore documentaries in lieu of the latest romantic comedy.
While all of this took place, a war was being waged against Mr. Edwards by a group of the same administrators and teachers he had irritated throughout his year of employment. The news of his termination was a shock to our team, and I did everything possible to keep his position at our school. Marching down to protest at district meetings and holding conferences with our principal, I fought hard for the man that had supported me so much. In the end, no number of heart-wrenching letters and eloquently worded speeches could save him. He was gone by the start of my junior year.
When I look back to the mere two years that Mr. Edwards had occupied in my life, I still believe that he has played the biggest role in my maturation as an individual. My interest in world issues and the intricacies of politics derived from his talents in what he taught. I want to be as passionate and dedicated in what I do as Mr. Edwards was, who labored countless unpaid weekends and late school nights out of love. His last months working at Bellaire inspired me to be proactive and stand up for whom I believe in and not just passively wait for change. However, my understanding of the justification behind his termination allowed me to see the necessity of avoiding his mistakes: obstinacy, thoughtlessness, and unnecessary hostility. All things considered, the best times of my last four years were proudly attributed to him, whether they were spent at a tournament, his classroom, or the school district building. I often mull over everything his time at Bellaire had taught me, and I fondly picture his sassy strut now and then.
