Niece G was a successful applicant to Stanford, son was not (in spite of the “legacy advantage” — ha ha ha!) G thinks it’s because son didn’t play up his ethnicity. Her essay was “hapa, hapa all the way.” Who knows? In the latest issue of Stanford Magazine is a helpful compilation of first lines from the personal essays of Stanford’s newest class. (Feel free to crib):
- When I was 8 years old, I shocked my family and a local archaeologist by discovering artifacts dating back almost 3,500 years.
- The spaghetti burbled and slushed around the pan, and as I stirred it, the noises it gave off began to sound increasingly like bodily functions.
- I had never seen anyone get so excited about mitochondria.
- I stand on the riverbank, surveying this rippled range like some riparian cowboy — instead of chaps, I wear vinyl, thigh-high waders and a lasso of measuring tape and twine is slung over my arm.
- I have old hands.
- I’ll never forget the day when my childhood nightmares about fighting gigantic trolls in the Lord of the Rings series became a reality.
- As an Indian-American, I am forever bound to the hyphen.
- On a hot Hollywood evening, I sat on a bike, sweltering in a winter coat and furry boots.
- I change my name each time I place an order at Starbucks.