500 Words or Less Read online

  ladder. With one more big jump, I was at the top. I looked at the beautiful scene before

  me, and realized that I could never have made it through this treacherous team bonding

  exercise without the braveness and positivity that my grandpa instilled in me.

  More than simply a blood relative, my grandfather was my role model that I

  looked to as an inspiration, but unfortunately, when I was eleven, he died tragically in a

  plane crash. It took me months to recoup from my loss, for I had always looked to my

  grandpa to be the support system in my life.

  It seems unfathomable that I am inspired most by a person who is no longer

  here; that I am still learning every day from the principles that he taught me and my family;

  and that I was able to see these amazing attributes of my grandfather not in his life, but

  in his death. Those aspects of him that I cherish most, I have begun to notice in myself.

  On the volleyball court I see in me the leadership that he possessed, and I can feel his

  determination for success in my veins every time I step into the classroom.

  The lessons of friendliness, openness, and positivity that my grandfather

  taught me and the rest of my family, are morals that I will continue to hold close to my

  heart for the rest of my life. I strive to be as fearless as my grandfather, for he showed

  me what it means to be able to jump from one rung of the ladder to the next, and not be

  afraid of the fall.

  Jack Koby

  Accepted to: UC Davis, University of Oregon, Colorado School of Mines

  Attending: University of Oregon

  College Essay

  In elementary school, I never had to sign my name at the top of my assignments. Teachers always knew that the spelling tests and math worksheets filled with drawings of futuristic rocket cars and amphibious vehicles belonged to me. Fast-forward to today, and my dream — to design exceptional vehicles — is still the same. My inspiration to pursue that dream all came from one special teacher.

  His name was Chuck Jordan, and after decades as the head of design for General Motors, he volunteered to teach a small group of students at my high school in order to pass on his expertise in the art of design. Mr. Jordan taught me that through the design process, I could do much more than just draw cars; I could create every aspect of them. He showed me how to identify and correct the problems of current car models. He encouraged me to refine my designs until I had a completely new vehicle that was better than anything on the road today. Taped up drawings of cars now paper the walls of my room and serve as windows into my thoughts. Layers of notes point out the various concepts crafted into each design. I am particularly proud of my idea for an aerodynamic, retractable bed cover for a pick-up truck. Mr. Jordan thought I should obtain a patent for this feature because he didn’t think it had ever been done before.

  Tragically, Mr. Jordan died of cancer last December. I wrote him a letter that he read just hours before he passed away. I was honored when his wife chose to read my letter at his memorial in Detroit. I tried to capture what Mr. Jordan had meant to me: “All my life, I wanted to learn to draw cars, but you shaped me into a person who could create a car.” I went on to say, “You taught me the importance of thinking differently from those around me and gave me the ability to express my ideas on paper. Above all, you taught me the importance of leaving a mark on this planet, the significance of contributing to society, and the power of innovation.”

  I hope to continue in Mr. Jordan’s footsteps, knowing how lucky I am to have spent a year being mentored by my idol and a true auto industry legend. Though perfection is never possible in the eye of a designer, it is something that I will always strive for. I know that design is a never ending process because even the best new ideas will soon become obsolete. Starting with Mr. Jordan’s words of wisdom, I'll always keep trying to create the perfect car, beautifully sculpted with a synchronized symphony of moving parts. It will have started with a little sketch in the margin of whatever paper happened to lie in front of my thoughts.

  Allee Bradford

  Accepted to: University of Washington, UC Davis, UC Santa Cruz, University of Oregon, Saint John’s University

  Going to: University of Washington

  Abigail

  Her name is Abigail. She was in the fourth grade and I was a sophomore when we first

  met at Casa de Amistad, the learning center for Latino students where I volunteer as a tutor. She

  walked up to me with her curly brown hair, her thick gold-framed glasses highlighting her huge,

  brown eyes and her perfectly crooked grin. As she approached me with her belly pushed out,

  subtly rocking back and forth, she said with her giggly raspy voice, “Hi, what’s your name?”

  Surprised, I responded, “I’m Allee, what’s your name?” We sat down next to each other, as she

  asked me questions about myself.

  As we walked down the bare, stone hallway, Abigail was talking the whole time. She was

  enthralled with my answers to her questions, and equally eager to divulge about herself.

  She told me that she lived with her parents, her brother, and her cousins all under one

  roof. She told me she liked soccer, and she would play with her family in their front yard. She

  enthusiastically explained that the goals ran from the tree to the curb and they had to create the

  other goal out of makeshift objects. I asked her if she had a computer at home to type her poem.

  She told me she didn’t have a computer or a television, but that her and her family took turns on

  the Nintendo they got for Christmas. Somewhat ashamed, I noticed my Blackberry, which was

  lying on the table next to her papers, and slid it into my pocket.

  Abigail was stubborn—she didn’t like doing her homework and she definitely didn’t like

  me telling her she had to do her homework. I hated seeing her so careless about something I

  valued so much. We came from two inherently different worlds, yet these two worlds collided to

  form a bond I hold most valuable.

  During my sessions with Abigail, I learned as much as she did. I learned about the real

  story of immigrants—her parents made their way to the United States through difficult paths that

  I can’t imagine. They spoke precious little English, and I occasionally spoke Spanish to them. I

  could see the hope in Abigail’s parents, the belief that education could help to transform their

  children and the realization that they needed help from someone like me to teach their children.

  It was at once a burden and an uplifting sense of responsibility. Abigail is not a perfect student

  who does her homework on time and gets everything right. She struggles, and I struggle with

  her, and through this process we move forward.

  I taught Abigail her multiplication tables and spelling words, and Abigail taught me the

  value of human connection and that despite inevitable dissimilarities, we have the ability to

  create friendships with people from different worlds. But above all, Abigail taught me

  appreciation—that we must not ignore these differences, but that we must be aware and simply

  realize our own fortunes.

  Griffin Smith

  Accepted:University of Pacific, Colorado State University, University of Colorado at Boulder, University of Denver.

  Attending University of Denver

  My Dad

  In 1986, my father drove across the country from Miami, Florida to San Diego,

  California. He didn’t have a job, family member, or friend waiting for him there, but he was

  determined to start a new life and pursue his passion of triathlon. Without a college degree on

  his resume, it was
going to be challenging finding a job that he would be able to make a career

  out of, but he knew he had the ability to succeed. He used his confidence, and ambition, to

  eventually start his own sporting magazine, with a focus on triathlon. His goal was to inspire

  readers to go out and live the active lifestyle that he knew and loved so well. Through hard

  work and enthusiasm he was able to grow his company into the large corporation that it is

  today.

  When I was a sophomore in high school, my dad told me his life story, and I was able to

  truly appreciate my father’s career and the way he was able to provide for our family while still

  doing what he loved to do. In turn, this newfound admiration for my father and his path taken

  inspired me to follow my ideals in the same way; not to drive cross country and start a

  magazine, but to follow my heart and do what I love. I learned that with relentless dedication

  and commitment to a concentrated goal, success can be achieved. I have been able to apply

  these philosophies to certain regards in my life such as my long standing volleyball career, in

  which I have received many high accolades, as well as general dedication to my studies and

  more specifically, my artwork.

  Being a kid in San Diego, I have developed a love for surfing, skateboarding,

  snowboarding, and the culture and lifestyle that embody these sports. I am profoundly

  interested in music, fashion, and art, and I want to be able to incorporate these concepts into

  my future life and career. I hope to start my own company, and execute my own vision as part

  of the up and coming youth culture. I aspire to create, innovate, and inspire. Just as my father

  motivated an entire generation of triathletes, with his magazine, I intend to affect the youth

  generation, though my company, whether it is through art, music, or fashion. My father has

  influenced me in many ways throughout my life, but I especially respect for him for the way he

  was able to start a business based on what he loved, and turn it into a fulfilling career. He has

  lived a rewarding life due to his ingenuity and determination to succeed, which has shaped my

  future aspirations. I hope to start a company, as he did, and be equally successful in doing what

  I love.

  Hanna Beyer

  Accepted: Southern Methodist University, Texas Christian University, University of Washington, University of California Santa Barbara, Whitworth University, Fordham University, California Polytechnic State University San Luis Obispo, University of Minnesota

  Attending: Texas Christian University

  The Blurred Line

  At promptly seven o’clock each night, my little brother and I crawl into a nest of

  rumpled flannel giraffe sheets for a bedtime story. His choice of literature usually

  consists of an excerpt from an atlas or National Geographic Magazine. As I begin to read

  aloud from the tiny text, uncovering facts about ancient civilizations and mythical creatures, I

  watch his eyes widen and his hands twitch excitedly. Sam is diagnosed with autism, a

  neurological impairment in his brain that affects his social skills and learning abilities.

  Although he is unable to read or write at age twelve, Sam harbors an endless capacity for

  knowledge. He can memorize even the most acute details of dense information, and recite

  them with impeccable accuracy.

  Sam has revealed to me the power of true knowledge, an intellect that stretches

  further and runs deeper than receiving a decent grade on a paper or acing a test.

  Witnessing his constant and genuine enthusiasm for learning has renewed my own, and

  reminded me of my true motives behind completing fifty-page reading assignments and

  hours of homework. Sam has helped me to realize that understanding stems from a

  flickering spark of curiosity, and it is sought with the purpose of bettering oneself and

  one’s views. Knowledge is not an entitlement, but a privilege, and it is only as useful as

  what I choose to do with it.

  The acquirement of wisdom and its principals calls for a creative balance. Sam’s

  three-dimensional imagination has encouraged me to salvage my own imagination from

  the abandoned playground of my childhood dreams. He has shown me that there are

  various forms of wisdom and self-expression, and has helped me discover my own

  form—writing.

  Unlike my brother, my fantasy world does not exist amongst dense atlases and

  history magazines; it is founded upon words. I explore the uncharted waters of my mind

  when sitting with a paper and pen. Sam has made me aware of my story-telling talent. I

  find my own line between reality and make-believe blurred when absorbed within my

  penned-ink universe. When I write, I access those forgotten figments of my imagination

  that I thought would never resurface.

  It is Sam who has shown me the hunger for education and wisdom, a hunger

  capable of opening doors to undiscovered passions. Sam has allowed me to challenge my

  previous and rigid definition of knowledge and the idea that it can be fully measured in

  Grade Point Averages or test scores. He has stripped the filmy layer of realism from my

  eyes and challenged me to explore my creative thought. Sam has shown me the beauty in

  imagination and imperfection, and made me aware that the two concepts of

  understanding and fantasy go hand-in-hand. We both live within the boundaries of our

  blurred lines—straddling conventional standards of knowledge and our own creative

  forms of self-expression. It is here, within my own bedtime story, that my little brother

  has helped me find the key to unlock those doors.

  Sean Helmer

  Accepted:University of Oregon, Colorado State,University of Colorado at Boulder

  Attending: of Colorado at Boulder

  A Day at the Beach

  My desk has become cluttered with countless miscellaneous items; leadless pencils, last year’s algebra 2 worksheet, even a few scattered gum wrappers. Most of these objects fail to grasp my attention, but there is always one that stands out: a picture of me when I first learned how to ride a bike. More importantly my dad is in the background, wearing a smile as almost as gleaming as mine. Each time I get transfixed on the picture, I can’t help but think about how much my dad has meant to me. He has taken time out of his busy life to be there for every important moment in my life. He showed me even when I was only six how to remain calm and to think positive when my mom had cancer. I could never imagine myself ever becoming like him, but it wasn’t till a distinctive southern California marine layer summer morning, that maybe I could.

  This summer, I worked for the Solana beach junior beach lifeguard program. I spent countless afternoons working with kids aging from six to fourteen teaching them the fundamentals of the beach. Days like these reminded me of the times when my dad was extremely eager to teach me the things he loved to do. One day in particular was almost a similar experience that my dad and I shared. When I was with the seven year olds, they were all very timid of entering the ocean because they were afraid of getting knocked down by the waves. Day by day, most of the kids overcame their fears but Jake, so undersized that his head struggled to break even with my waist, could not overcome his fear of the intimidating waves. Jake’s salty tears took me back to the picture on my desk. What I can’t see in the picture but I clearly remember are the pair of waterfalls I now deem eyes when my dad would attempt to take my training wheels off. I knew I would have to teach Jake the same way my dad taught me; I had to show him it was safe. Just like my dad, I
would walk with Jake all the way into the surf; it was tough at first but he quickly discovered when I was around him that he was in no danger. I felt the same way about my dad who was always the safety blanket when I rode the bike. Jake’s tears evaporated by the end of the day and were replaced by a giddy, innocent smile of a seven year old.

  Jake’s smile never dared to disappear when he ran to his mother eagerly informing her of his accomplishment. How could it? I’m convinced my smile from the picture on my desk has never abandoned me either. Up until that day I had not yet approached my dad and thanked him for all his priceless lessons. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never realized how important they were to me, or perhaps because I haven’t finished learning yet.

  Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud and how does it relate to the person you are?

  Megan Hammon

  Accepted: Cal Poly Pomona, Colorado State University, UC Davis,SDSU

  Attending: San Diego State University

  My story begins when I feared my life was about to end. The man who I had belonged to for two and a half years was highly abusive, fierce with rage, and confused by his harsh childhood. He grew up surrounded by his parent’s depression, infidelity, poverty, and eventually his mother’s suicide. I in contrast, grew up naïve and ignorant. I was dragged into his world.

  If I ever attempted to escape his hold over me, he would threaten me with his life. Eventually, there was too much pain and no excuses left to be made when I found out that he had been with another woman behind my back for six months. What little affection I had left for him vanished. I was determined to leave him; I could not suffer any more on his behalf. In response to this, he immediately took a razor blade from behind his back and drew it to his throat. He threatened to “cut deep” if I left.

  I tried to cut communications with him, but he retaliated by leaving me graphic and gruesome voicemail messages. I listened as he described in great detail the ecstasy he felt while cutting into his fingers with a paring knife. At the end of the message, fear began to grow inside me like a lead weight forcing my heart to descend down into my stomach. This feeling was reinforced one night when he stalked me, following me to a bonfire party at a local beach. Overcome with jealousy, he ordered me to either meet him in the empty parking lot or face a public beating. Petrified by his ability to find me there, and shocked by his threat, I grudgingly obeyed.