College Essays

Seniors share what they wrote for their college essays, including their common application essay or supplemental school specific essays.

RAFFI AVEDISSIAN Common Application

In my life, there has always been one thing that would both inspire and terrify me: that is literature. As a kid, the bookcases that filled the walls in my mom’s library felt like monoliths, containing a surplus of intricate and extensively titled books—these always intimidated me. Whenever I saw authors such as Leslie Marmon Silko, Zabel Yesayan, or Franz Werfel on my mom’s desk, I felt unsettled; I couldn’t help comparing them to the C.S Lewis and Roald Dahl books I was reading at the time. Despite being curious about the contents of these books, I never really tried to approach them.

Every day it felt like there was a new book on her desk, which inspired me to read even more and try to build up to an assumed “higher” intellectual level. As I read more and more—from books on horror and science fiction films to classic literature such as Hamlet and Beowulf—I started to become fascinated by the inherent nature of reading itself. I contemplated how the idea of words became paths to understanding, and how the principles of language influenced the way knowledge was transferred.

Through this process, I found a lot of happiness and mindfulness through reading. Whenever I was stressed, overwhelmed, or anxious, walking to a nearby park and reading on a bench was always my best form of self-care. Regardless of what I was reading, I found nothing more intimate than the relationship between me and the words on a page, bringing me to a level of comfort with the idea of facing my fears.

I approached my mom and asked if I could borrow her copy of Slavoj Žižek’s The Most Sublime Hysteric: Hegel with Lacan. I felt I was ready to handle a book that I believed had complex concepts with an extensive vocabulary. However, when I sat down to read the book, not a single concept registered with me—terms like “dialectical dynamism,” “paradoxical topology,” and “transcendental form’’ plagued the opening chapter of the book. I became overwhelmed by my inability to understand what I was reading and I got worried: How could I ask to borrow this book if I can’t even comprehend it?

This moment led me to confront my pride. Usually, at times like this, I generally tried to figure things out on my own, or indirectly by asking short answer questions. But no such questions could be asked here. I needed help with understanding large-scale concepts. I went to my mom, and what resulted was an unexpect- edly interesting conversation about Hegel, Lacan, and all the background information needed to read the text. I was hooked.

Our talk was beneficial not only because of the clarifications it offered, but also because it allowed me to confront my fear. At this moment, I realized that one of the most important parts of learning is the acknowledgment of imperfection. I was now comfortable asking my mom questions and starting discussions to a point that now I don’t even ask to borrow books from my mom’s library. I had secretly thought of reading as a competition, but really it is collaboration. Coming to this realization not only made me a better reader but also a better learner. In my constant pursuit of knowledge, I will never let my pride get in the way of my curiosity, because I now realize how much could be lost if I do so.