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ESSAY
The man was a prodigy. He had performed for American presidents and even the Queen of England, every moment documented with autographed photos hanging in his guest bathroom. Even with a stature of 5 feet and change, his presence towered above me unforgivingly. His skeptical eye stared down at me as I struggled to balance my mom’s iPhone on its makeshift tripod. A month earlier, the Pasadena Symphony-Pops had commissioned me to create a video featuring its debuting conductor, Michael Feinstein.
Now, the five-time Grammy nominee hunkered down on his piano bench, impatiently waiting for my command. With no professional equipment and little preparation beforehand, I had thrown together whatever I could find. A day before, I had taken pliers to bend a coat-hanger into a holder for the purple-cased iPhone 4. I even used a block of Post-Its to prop up a second-hand GoPro for another camera angle. Fumbling about, I felt like a child looking desperately for direction, almost expecting an adult to hand me a checklist—complete with the right questions to ask, directions to give, and instructions to complete. But I was on my own now. My “wing-it” approach to the shoot quickly became obvious, and Feinstein’s skeptical reception grew into condescension as I stumbled painfully through the interview. The filming ended, and heavy doors swung shut behind the mansion as I was escorted out.
I had blown it. Academic rubrics and guidelines were straightforward—but here, being a straight-A student in the classroom held little value. For the first time, the Feinstein project had given me the opportunity to conduct my own show—but I had arrived without a baton. The MacGyver camera rigging wasn’t the flaw; in fact, I think I pulled off the creative contraption decently well considering my lack of better resources. The real failure was my complete lack of preparation and absence of confident leadership. Yes, it would’ve been easy to write off Feinstein as arrogant—he certainly didn’t serve me a generous helping of grace. He had envisioned a director with a camera crew—I was a 16-year-old amateur with my mom’s iPhone. But looking back, I realized that Feinstein had given me a valuable gift: expecting more from me than what I expected from myself. Did I want to just be the teenager with a camera phone? The interview with Feinstein was humiliating, but the experience forced me to decide if I wanted to be that director with his own camera crew.
I dove head-first into editing, determined to not let my inexperience stop me.
I took action. As part of the commission, I had already negotiated for the PSA to pay for professional editing software, Final Cut Pro X and Motion 5. I had a vision of what I wanted, but I also had no idea how to use these programs to get there—I was just an amateur with no film experience beyond the occasional school project with iMovie. I dove head-first into editing, determined to not let my inexperience stop me. The process was brutal—I spent countless hours reading online manuals to solve frequent problems. But every frustration fueled determination. Over the course of 80 working hours, the video progressed from a barebones slideshow of images to a multi-faceted film with customized titles and transition animations. The completed production, though far from a masterpiece, gave me a sense of accomplishment knowing that my initial failure propelled me to work beyond my expectations and fulfill my own vision.
I was ready. Stepping back one last time to watch the finished video with my Pasadena Symphony-Pops clients, I no longer felt like the lost boy in the Feinstein mansion. And amidst the excitement and congratulations around me, I wished Michael would have been there too—to thank him for helping me set aside the iPhone and coat hanger, take the baton, and conduct my own show.
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REVIEW
Tackling perhaps one of the toughest prompts the Common App offers, Chad’s essay details a memorable account of a time he encountered failure—and more importantly, the lessons he took from the experience. The essay prompt is difficult to attempt because applicants need to carefully balance their need to impress admissions officers (or at the very least, not scare them off) with their essay’s need to tell a compelling story and avoid cliche. All the while, the essay must reveal something significant about its writer.
His reaction to failure and embarrassment is defiant resistance rather than quiet submission.
The personality Chad’s essay reveals speaks a lot to his approach in attempting this essay. His reaction to failure and embarrassment is defiant resistance rather than quiet submission. The attitude he carries throughout the challenge, from his initial approach to his subsequent refusal to quit, is reflected in details of his writing too. The highly organized structure, signposted by declarative, no-nonsense statements (“I had blown it,” “It took action,” “I was ready”) speak to this, as does the level of specificity to which he still remembers some details (“5 feet and change,” “purple-cased iPhone 4“).
With this being said, this essay could have benefitted from more direct insight into Chad’s personality. Most of what readers understand is gleaned from details that may not fully capture the significance of this event to Chad.
Disclaimer: With exception of the removal of identifying details, essays are reproduced as originally submitted in applications; any errors in submissions are maintained to preserve the integrity of the piece.
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