PROSE
COLLEGE APPLICATION OF A
by jonathan cheng SCHADENFREUDE
Activities List: 1) Author of “Experiencing Schadenfreude” 52 wks/yr, 2 hrs/wk a) Wrote best-selling biography of experiences, featured on NYT 2) President of Schadenfreude Club 40 wks/yr, 3 hrs/wk a) Planned discussions about member’s experiences, hosted poem workshops to express our Schadenfreude sides 3) CEO of Schadenfreudes Against Homelessness 40 wks/yr, 2 hrs/wk a) Started non-profit to unite Schadenfreude against homelessness, hosted can food drives and talked to homeless people to learn more about their experiences 4) Theater 12 wks/yr, 10 hrs/wk a) Played Friar Lawrence in a performance of “Romeo and Juliet”
21|The penchant||DEC 2020
Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, please share your story. When I was in elementary school, my friend Matthew tripped over a sidewalk ledge, breaking his nose. As blood flowed from his nose, a grin formed on my mouth. How could a person be so silly as to not look at where they were going? Before I could realize the repercussions of my actions, I let out uncontrollable laughter. Despite the incident, Matthew would still be my friend. I would still offer him chips at lunch, even though I only offered the ones that had fallen on the ground. I would still allow him to play on my Nintendo Switch, but only the hardest levels where I could watch him miserably fail. It had seemed that with every interaction with Matthew I sought to bask in his suffering. When I was in middle
school, I became an avid reader and discovered the world of dystopian novels. The gruesome and depressing nature of the novels attracted me. As I relished each page, I rooted for the oppressive, totalitarian governments. I wanted the citizens to feel pain. I wanted to see their anguish. It was too bad that I soon discovered that with every Young Adult novel, there’s always a happy ending, even in a dystopian novel. I ended up going to my favorite English teacher, Mrs. Schultz, to ask for book recommendations. With vehement passion, I described what I felt was missing in every book I had read. I sought more gruesome torture scenes and painful betrayals. I wanted to read more about death and less about joy. Mrs. Schultz certainly had a unique look on her face as she listened to my complaints. When she stood up to go to her class bookshelf to find a book, she knocked a coffee mug from her desk. As the mug fell towards the ground in almost slow motion, I
