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ESSAY
The summer after my freshman year, I found myself in an old classroom holding a blue dry erase-marker, realizing what should have been obvious: I had no idea how to be a teacher. As an active speech and debate competitor, I was chosen as a volunteer instructor for an elementary public speaking camp hosted by my high school. For the first time, I would have the opportunity to experience the classroom from the other side of the teacher’s desk. My responsibility was simple: in two weeks, take sixteen fifth graders and turn them into confident, persuasive speakers.
I walked into class the first morning, enthusiastically looking forward to the opportunity to share my knowledge, experiences, and stories. I was hoping for motivated kids, eager to learn, attentive to my every word.
Instead, I got Spencer, who thought class was a good time to train his basketball skills by tossing crumpled speeches into the trash can from afar. I got Monica, who refused to speak, and I got James, who didn’t understand the difference between “voice projection” and “screaming.” I got London, who enjoyed doodling on her desk with permanent marker, and I got Arnav, who thought I wouldn’t notice him playing Angry Birds all day. The only questions I got were “When’s lunch break?” and “Why are you giving us homework?” and the only time I got my students to raise their hands was when I asked “How many of you are only here because your parents forced you to?”
Just ten minutes into class, two things hit me: Spencer’s crumpled paper ball, and the realization that teaching was hard.
When I was younger, I thought that a good teacher was one that gave high-fives after class. Later, of course, I knew it was far more complicated than that. I thought about teachers I admired and their memorable qualities. They were knowledgeable, enthusiastic, and inspiring. Their classes were always fun, and they always taught me something.
There was plenty I wanted to teach, from metaphors to logical fallacies. But most importantly, I wanted my students to enjoy public speaking, to love giving speeches as much as I did. And that’s when I realized the most important quality of my favorite teachers: passion. They loved their subject and passed that love on to their students. While it wouldn’t be easy, I wanted to do the same.
Every day for two weeks, I searched for creative ways to inspire and teach my students. I helped London speak on her love for art; I had Arnav debate about cell phone policies in schools. And by the end of the camp, I realized that my sixteen students all saw me not as a high school student, but as a teacher. I took their questions, shared my enthusiasm, and by the time camp was over, they weren’t just learning, but enjoying learning.
I was on the other side of the teacher's desk, but I hadn't stopped learning.
I was on the other side of the teacher’s desk, but I hadn’t stopped learning. Each day, I was learning how to communicate more effectively, how to deal with new challenges and circumstances, and how to be a better teacher. I once thought that being an adult meant knowing all the answers. But in reality, adults, even teachers, constantly have more to learn. I made the transition away from being a child during those weeks, but I did not and would not transition away from being a learner.
When class ended each afternoon, I would cap my blue dry-erase marker, give high-fives to the students as they walked out the door, and watch as their parents picked them up. I was confident that when my students were asked the inevitable questions of “Did you learn something today?” and “Did you have fun?” their answers would be a resounding yes. And even as their teacher, I learned and had fun too.
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REVIEW
Phillip’s choice of subject matter is carefully considered: he doesn’t attempt to dazzle us with any flashy exploits or overwhelm us with the breadth and depth of his achievements. Instead, he chooses a simple success story, of his experience working with kids at a public speaking camp, that highlights his personal growth.
It's important to note that even though Phillip's story depicts a success, a good college essay need not end in triumph.
The story has a complete narrative arc, with a definite beginning, middle, and end. Phillip describes a distinct set of opinions that characterize each phase of his short teaching career, illustrated with colorful descriptions of typical moments for each. There are also certain symmetries between the beginning and end (the blue marker, for example) that leave the reader with a sense of finality and satisfaction. In addition, Phillip’s voice throughout the story is phenomenal. His humor feels natural, and he’s able to make the reader aware of his positive qualities without bragging or posturing; he shows them to us, through the story and through his subject, rather than loudly announcing them. His writing is confident and clear and doesn’t distract at all from the content of the essay.
It’s important to note that even though Phillip’s story depicts a success, a good college essay need not end in triumph. If you try to create a victory where there isn’t really one, you run the risk of sounding insincere. You have plenty of other places to list your accomplishments!
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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