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cancer,
she
said,
and
he
didnt
have
much
time
left.
From
then
on,
I
spent
as
many
weekends
as
possible
by
my
grandfathers
bedside.
In
all
those
painful
visits,
it
was
never
clearer
that
he
was
slipping
away
than
the
day
when
his
hospice
nurse
asked
to
hear
one
of
his
famous
stories.
Naturally,
he
agreed,
jumping
into
his
favorite
about
the
hospital
hed
helped
build
in
England
while
in
the
Air
Force.
But
he
had
to
quit
halfway
through.
Mid-telling,
he
realized
he
no
longer
had
the
strength
to
finish;
he
realized
the
disease
that
had
stolen
his
health
was
now
stealing
his
stories
too.
As
he
trailed
off
with
the
heavy
hurt
of
loss
spreading
across
his
face,
I
took
his
hand.
And
I
did
what
he
had
spent
years
training
me
to
do.
I
told
a
storyhis
story.
For
the
first
time
in
months,
I
told
a
story
not
because
I
wanted
a
trophy
or
a
plaque.
I
picked
up
where
my
grandfather
left
off
and
finished
his
story
because
I
loved
him
and
couldnt
stand
to
see
him
hurt
anymore.
When
I
turned
back
to
him
to
ask
whether
Id
gotten
all
the
details
right,
his
cheeks
were
shining
with
tears.
He
squeezed
my
hand
hard,
smiled,
and
winked
as
he
said,
Now
that's
a
story,
[name].
Thats
when
it
clicked.
Thats
when
I
realized
why
mock
trial
felt
so
hollowwhy
the
stories
I
had
been
telling
brought
me
only
an
ounce
of
the
satisfaction
that
my
grandfathers
stories
brought
him.
With
no
real
client
to
fight
for,
with
only
trophies
on
the
line,
I
was
telling
stories
just
because
I
wanted
something
out
of
them.
But
my
grandfather
told
his
stories
because
he
knew
they
would
mean
something
to
others,
to
the
people
with
whom
he
shared
them.
As
I
sat
there
holding
his
hand,
I
thought
of
all
the
times
he
had
brightened
someones
day
with
a
story,
of
all
the
smiles
and
laughs
his
storytelling
had
inspired.
That,
I
realized,
was
my
grandfathers
real
legacynot
the
stories
themselves,
but
the
good
he
had
done
with
them.
And
in
finishing
his
story
to
spare
him
more
pain,
I
was
finally
starting
to
live
up
to
that
legacy.
My
grandfather
is
gone
now.
But
his
lessonsespecially
the
final
oneremain.
And
ever
since
I
helped
tell
his
story,
Ive
been
striving
to
live
those
lessons.
I
lived
them
as
I
continued
with
mock
trial,
telling
stories
to
help
my
teammates
reach
the
goals
theyd
worked
so
hard
to
achieve.
I
lived
them
as
I
volunteered
at
[college
town]
Legal
Aid,
relaying
my
clients
stories
to
win
them
the
assistance
they
needed.
Now,
I
plan
to
live
my
grandfathers
lessons
as
an
attorney.
I
can
imagine
nothing
more
fulfilling
than
standing
in
front
of
a
jury,
telling
the
stories
of
those
who
have
suffered
injury
and
indignity,
faithfully,
convincingly,
passionately.
And
when
Im
done,
when
Im
returning
to
counsel
table
after
telling
the
tale
of
someone
whos
suffered,
Ill
look
to
the
back
of
the
courtroom.
I
know
he
wont
be
there,
but
Ill
hope
to
see
him
anyway.
My
friend,
my
mentor,
my
grandfathersmiling,
winking,
and
then
silently
mouthing,
Now
thats
a
story,
[name].
Stats:
3.68/180
In:
Harvard,
Stanford
(attending),
Columbia,
Chicago,
Berkeley,
Michigan,
Georgetown
Out:
Nowhere!
A
lot
of
my
acceptance
letters
commented
on
my
personal
statement;
re-reading
it
I
think
there
are
some
problems,
but
it
served
its
purpose.
I
don't
think
this
is
the
final-
final
draft,
so
there
may
be
a
grammatical
error
or
two.
Maria
Teresa
was
stirring
a
copper
vat
full
of
boiling,
light-yellow
cream.
A
sweet-
smelling
steam
obscured
her
face
as
she
explained
how
to
heat
goat
milk
to
make
cajeta,
a
traditional
Mexican
caramel.
While
outlining
the
recipe,
passed
down
from
her
great-grandmother,
she
hinted
at
her
aching
back
and
the
many
hours
she
spends
in
the
kitchen.
Still,
her
face
was
radiant
when
she
spoke
of
adding
rum
or
vanilla
to
those
century-old
recipes
to
subtly
change
the
flavor.
In
her
words,
I
heard
a
refrain
later
repeated
by
other
candy-makers
I
would
interview
around
the
globe:
success
requires
hard
work
and
a
willingness
to
take
risks
and
tweak
traditional
recipes
for
new
and
innovative
results.
Over
the
past
ten
years,
I've
demonstrated
these
same
values.
At
MIT
and
in
the
workplace,
hard
work
and
the
ability
to
surmount
obstacles,
to
think
through
problems,
and
to
develop
solutions
are
mandatory.
In
college,
whether
waking
up
at
"Oh-dark-thirty"
for
Air
Force
officer
training
courses
or
staying
up
all
night
to
program
a
ball-gathering
robot,
there
was
never
enough
time.
Struggling
to
understand
was
normal
-
thermodynamics,
my
kryptonite.
One
dropped
class,
two
years,
and
many
late
nights
spent
finishing
problem
sets
eventually
led
to
success
in
a
subject
I
thought
I
would
never
understand.
These
lessons
served
me
well
later,
when
the
pressure
was
intense
to
design,
program,
test
and
certify
an
operating
system
for
the
next
generation
of
general
aviation
cockpit
displays.
Avionics
software
development
is
a
bit
of
a
tightrope
walk.
On
one
hand,
you
must
upgrade
the
code
to
meet
new
requirements.
On
the
other,
every
change
must
be
weighed
with
the
corresponding
expense
of
certification,
a
costly
process
required
by
the
FAA
to
ensure
all
critical
aircraft
software
is
safe.
Every
day,
I
made
decisions
that
set
this
balance.
Despite
the
challenge,
I
was
not
happy.
As
a
woman
I
found
the
atmosphere
difficult.
In
nearly
four
years,
I
worked
with
another
female
engineer
only
twice.
I
wasn't
marginalized,
but
I
was
isolated.
With
no
one
to
turn
to
for
advice
on
balancing
life
and
career
and
left
out
of
many
male-only
bonding
experiences,
the
aerospace
industry
was
not
a
permanent
option.
In
spite
of
these
misgivings,
my
decision
to
leave
a
secure
job
to
travel
was
unexpected
to
many
people.
Engineers
are
taught
to
abhor
risk
and
to
design
and
test
it
away,
instead
aiming
for
stability
and
safety.
Yet,
I
left
for
18
months
of
uncertainty.
Something
Id
dreamed
of
became
possible
when
a
documentary
film-
maker
chose
to
sponsor
me
on
my
travels.
My
entry
was
selected
from
hundreds
in
an
combination
essay/interview
competition
because
my
reasons
for
travel
to
learn
all
that
I
can
of
the
history,
production,
and
consumption
of
candy
internationally
were
interesting
and
innovative
and
above
all,
unique.
My
earliest
memories
include
trying
chewing
gum
for
the
first
time
and
starting
up
an
elementary
school
candy
business;
the
memory
of
boot
camp
that
has
remained
most
intensely
alive
to
me
is
the
sweetness
of
an
ice
cream
sandwich
after
weeks
without
sugar.
I
travel
not
just
to
see
new
sights
and
meet
new
people,
but
also
to
explore
a
fascinating,
delicious,
and
at
times
unsettling
aspect
of
human
history.
From
the
use
of
slave
labor
in
sugar
cultivation
to
international
corporations
forcing
the
closure
of
local
businesses
and
pushing
eating
habits
that
lead
to
diabetes
and
tooth
decay,
candy
can
have
an
unsavory
core.
However,
it
can
also
bring
comfort
and
celebration,
no
matter
where
we
are.
This
balance
of
the
good
and
the
bad
has
long
been
part
of
the
history
of
candy.
While
traveling,
I
focus
on
writing
and
on
viewing
what
I
see
with
a
reporters
eye.
I
will
have
covered
more
than
thirty
countries
by
the
time
the
trip
is
over,
and
each
day
brings
forth
something
new
to
explore.
In
Belize,
I
made
chocolate
from
the
seeds
of
the
cacao
plant,
grinding
the
beans
by
hand
and
roasting
them
on
a
roaring
fire.
Seeing
Chinese
and
American
imports
crowding
traditional
Nicaraguan
sweets
out
of
the
market
led
me
to
a
deeper
understanding
of
the
effects
of
globalization
on
candy
markets.
In
Mexico,
the
impact
of
Spanish
convents
on
the
development
of
candy
mirrors
the
more
obvious
colonial
influences
of
the
past
500
years.
Studying
sweets
has
given
intellectual
depth
to
my
travels
and
a
more
humanistic
way
of
looking
at
the
world
after
nine
years
as
an
engineer.
Additionally,
with
solo,
low-
budget,
independent
travel
comes
patience,
a
valuable
global
perspective,
and
the
knowledge
that
risks
and
innovation
can
pay
off
in
big
ways.
Perhaps
it
is
silly
to
compare
the
experiences
of
candy-makers
with
a
future
law
student's.
Still,
success
in
any
endeavor
is
usually
brought
about
by
a
combination
of
hard
work,
craftsmanship,
and
finding
the
right
balance
between
what
has
worked
in
the
past
and
what
should
be
changed
for
the
future.
The
law
is
no
different.
With
my
background
in
engineering
and
software
development
and
a
long-standing
interest
in
the
impact
of
technology,
Internet
law
is
a
natural
fit.
The
laws
in
this
field
are
newly
developing;
the
balance
between
the
old
and
the
new
is
still
being
set.
How
do
traditional
rights
to
privacy
and
freedom
of
expression
extend
to
the
Internet?
Who
owns
the
data
online,
and
who
determines
how
to
disseminate
it?
How
can
we
apply
laws
to
a
medium
as
global
as
the
Internet,
where
boundaries
of
jurisdiction
are
unclear?
I
want
to
combine
the
tools
and
techniques
I've
learned
over
the
past
twenty-seven
years
with
a
law
degree
to
help
answer
these
questions.
Like
Maria
Teresa,
I
want
to
work
to
set
the
balance.
07-08
Cycle
GPA:
3.96
LSAT:
170
Accepted:
Emory
($$$),
UVA
($$),
UPenn
($$),
NYU,
Yale
Waitlisted:
Columbia,
Harvard
Rejected:
-
Attending:
Yale
After
my
last
day
teaching
English
for
the
summer
at
an
orphanage
in
Lhasa,
Tibet,
I
meet
a
friend
in
a
teashop
behind
the
Potala
Palace.
He
hands
me
an
envelope
and
warns
me
to
be
careful.
If
the
Chinese
get
hold
of
it,
he
tells
me,
it
will
mean
prison
or
worse
for
him.
On
the
red,
printed
lines,
in
black
ink,
my
friend
has
addressed
the
envelope
and
its
contents
to
His
Holiness
the
Dalai
Lama.
Inside
he
has
stuffed
two
pages
describing
his
parents
imprisonment
for
their
actions
as
political
subversives,
his
childhood
as
an
orphan,
and
the
deplorable
state
of
affairs
in
the
Tibetans
occupied
homeland.
He
prays
that
the
great
leader
of
the
Tibetan
people
will
one
day
return.
A
day
later,
on
my
way
home,
I
travel
back
through
India,
where
I
had
previously
studied
for
a
semester
in
the
capital
of
the
Tibetan
exile
community.
I
meet
briefly
with
Tibetan
friends
whose
families
in
Tibet
have
given
me
money,
clothes,
and
letters
to
deliver
to
their
relatives
in
exile.
They
ask
me
about
their
homeland
and
I
tell
them
that
the
Chinese
are
erecting
more
buildings
than
ever,
the
new
Beijing-
Lhasa
train
has
brought
floods
of
Han
Chinese
immigrants
and
tourists,
and
armed
guards
march
on
the
roofs
of
buildings
near
their
holiest
temple.
On
the
other
hand,
I
tell
them,
the
elders
still
ceremoniously
circumambulate
the
empty
Potala
Palace
and
young
adults
speak
of
political
revolution.
My
Tibetan
friends
nod
their
heads
to
acknowledge
their
contemporaries
and
tell
me
about
a
hunger
strike
and
demonstration
for
Tibetan
freedom
that
they
plan
to
stage
next
month
in
Delhi.
Their
efforts
remind
me
of
the
Tibetan
Buddhist
ideal
of
sacrificing
oneself
for
others
that
I
have
come
to
embrace,
however
clumsily,
since
living
with
the
Tibetan
refugees
in
India.
Their
talk
of
demonstrating
calls
to
mind
late
hours
in
America
campaigning
for
the
Tibetan
cause,
images
of
screaming
Tibetan
protestors
with
Tibetan
flags
painted
on
their
faces
inspiring
my
work.
Two
days
after
leaving
Lhasa,
I
arrive
home
in
Atlanta,
GA,
one
week
before
the
start
of
my
last
year
in
college.
I
hurry
to
the
Tibetan
Buddhist
institute
where
I
work
and
greet
the
twenty-six
monks
living
just
outside
the
city.
They
thump
me
on
the
back,
shower
me
with
ceremonial
silk
scarves
known
as
khata,
and
ask
for
news
of
Tibet.
I
offer
them
blessing
cords
from
the
holy
temple
of
Lhasa,
show
them
pictures
of
the
Tibetan
capital,
and
gossip
with
them
in
Khamke,
a
variant
dialect
of
the
Tibetan
I
have
been
studying
in
school
and
abroad.
Looking
at
a
photo
of
the
Jokhang
temple,
two
monks
tell
me
about
participating
in
a
demonstration
staged
at
that
very
site
protesting
the
Chinese
rule
in
Tibet
before
fleeing
their
country
for
fear
of
their
lives.
One
monk
tells
me,
quoting
monk
activist
Jampa
Tenzin,
The
Tibetan
cause
is
a
cause
for
truth,
and
when
you
are
fighting
for
the
truth
you
cannot
wait
for
someone
to
tell
you
to
fight.
Moved
by
his
conviction,
I
promise
him
I
will
never
stop
fighting
for
Tibetan
freedom.
In
late
October,
two
months
into
my
senior
year
of
college,
His
Holiness
the
Dalai
Lama
arrives
in
Atlanta
for
a
three-day
stay.
I
meet
him
on
the
first
day
during
his
audience
with
Students
for
a
Free
Tibet,
a
group
for
which
I
have
served
as
president
for
three
years.
Bowing
before
His
Holiness,
I
offer
a
khata
of
the
highest
quality
and,
speaking
in
Tibetan,
I
present
the
letter
I
have
carried
out
of
Lhasa.
Looking
into
my
eyes,
he
takes
the
khata
from
my
hands,
raises
it
slowly
to
the
crown
of
his
head
in
a
gesture
of
blessing,
and
places
it
around
my
neck.
The
Dalai
Lama
opens
the
letter
and
reads
excerpts
aloud
to
his
entourage:
we
Tibetans
suffer
under
brutal
Chinese
rule,
we
dream
of
your
return
and
a
free
Tibet.
Taking
my
hands
in
his
hands,
the
Dalai
Lama
tells
me,
Thank
you.
Then
he
turns
to
address
Students
for
a
Free
Tibet
about
the
work
that
remains
to
be
done
for
the
Tibetan
cause.
Yale
(personal
statement)
250
For
two
months
I
waited
with
Sarah.
Every
day
I
came
to
her
room
and
sat
by
her
bed.
Together
we
watched
the
August
rain
fall
outside
her
window
and
listened
to
the
nurses
chatter
down
the
hall.
Sometimes
Sarah
spoke
to
people
I
could
not
see.
She
held
on
tightly
to
my
pulsing
hand
and
mumbled
towards
the
shadows
in
the
room.
I
had
begun
visiting
Sarah
when
an
ambulance
driver
rolled
her
gurney
into
a
room
at
Hospice
*****.
As
an
intern,
I
took
on
the
responsibilities
of
feeding
her
meals
and
reading
aloud
the
Hallmark
cards
her
family
had
sent.
I
spoke
with
her
visitors
while
she
was
sleeping
and
adjusted
her
legs
to
prevent
bed
sores.
In
the
liminal
stage
between
life
and
death
where
Sarah
resided,
I
became
attuned
to
the
moments
in
which
I
could
make
a
difference.
When
her
feet
turned
black,
I
consoled
her
as
she
cried.
If
she
reached
out
to
me,
I
held
hands
with
her
for
hours.
As
she
slipped
further
into
a
world
which
I
could
not
see,
where
shadows
were
dead
relatives
and
nurses
invisible,
I
continued
to
come
every
day
and
sit
by
her
bed.
On
the
last
day
I
visited
her,
when
the
waiting
was
over,
the
value
of
my
careful
attention
became
clear.
Sarah
looked
around
in
terror,
her
eyes
darting
around
the
room.
I
offered
her
my
hand
and
she
immediately
grasped
it.
Recognizing
my
grip,
she
relaxed.
Then
she
let
go.
Non-traditional
-
6
Years
out
of
undergrad
LSAT-175
GPA-3.82
In:
Harvard,
Columbia,
NYU,
UVA,
Northwestern,
Georgetown,
GW,
George
Mason
Out:
Yale
Attending:
Georgetown
They
were
the
model
Catholic
family;
out
to
protect
Gods
will
at
all
costs.
He
was
the
adulterer;
fathering
two
children
by
another
woman.
They
were
the
image
of
the
grieving
family;
tears,
hugs,
and
sorrow
at
each
negative
turn.
His
image
was
more
fitting
of
a
used
car
salesman;
flowered
shirts,
thin,
receding
hair,
and
a
look
of
pain
that
seemed
to
appear
only
at
the
most
opportune
times.
They
were
the
Schindler
family,
Robert,
Mary,
Bobby
and
Suzanne.
He
was
Michael
Schiavo.
I
was
a
television
news
producer
covering
this
landmark
right-to-die
case.
With
the
crowd
of
protestors
growing
larger
by
the
day,
Congress
passed
a
law
granting
federal
jurisdiction
over
the
legal
and
medical
questions
surrounding
Terri
Schiavos
life.
It
was
a
significant
turning
point.
Family
impressions,
protests,
and
television
interviews
no
longer
determined
Terris
fate.
Now
it
was
about
attorneys,
judges,
and
most
importantly,
the
law.
There
were
no
cameras
in
Judge
James
Whittemores
courtroom.
Everything
the
public
would
know
about
these
critical
arguments
would
come
from
the
recollections
of
the
20
journalists
witnessing
the
proceedings.
As
I
watched,
listened,
and
took
notes
about
every
detail
I
could
capture
in
my
reporters
notebook,
I
became
intrigued
not
only
by
the
specific
arguments
and
reactions,
but
by
the
broader
strategies
employed
by
the
various
attorneys.
I
found
myself
analyzing
their
tactics
and
thinking
about
how
I
would
have
argued
the
case
if
I
were
representing
the
parties.
With
Terris
parents
out
of
legal
options,
I
returned
home
to
find
a
buzz
swirling
through
my
condominium
about
a
builders
plans
to
redevelop
the
property
adjacent
to
ours.
It
was
a
proposal
fraught
with
problems:
unsafe
traffic
patterns,
excessive
density,
and
property
rights
violations.
The
developer
sought
to
use
our
land
to
meet
its
landscaping
obligations
for
the
new
project.
We
hatched
a
strategy
to
convince
the
county
board
to
address
our
traffic
and
density
concerns
while
not
compromising
our
ability
to
address
property
rights
through
the
legal
system.
I
was
the
designated
closer
at
the
public
hearings,
speaking
last
and
utilizing
my
debate
background
to
rebut
any
damaging
comments
from
previous
speakers.
We
succeeded
in
garnering
county
support
for
several
important
safety
changes.
However,
the
fight
over
property
rights
continues
and
Ive
taken
a
leadership
role
in
our
efforts,
first
as
chairman
of
our
congestion
committee
and
most
recently
as
a
member
of
the
Board
of
Directors.
The
condominium
issue
could
hardly
be
more
different
from
the
Terri
Schiavo
saga.
One
was
literally
a
life
or
death
situation
which
attracted
the
attention
of
the
world;
the
other
merely
dealt
with
property
rights,
finances,
and
construction
issues.
However,
the
passion
displayed
by
the
participants
in
both
cases
taught
me
an
important
lesson
about
the
necessity
of
law.
Disagreements
are
an
element
of
human
nature
and
even
seemingly
minor
disputes
can
erupt
into
major
conflicts.
The
law
helps
prevent
hostilities
in
the
first
place
by
setting
a
standard
for
various
behaviors.
When
those
standards
are
breached,
the
law
provides
recourse
and
resolution.
So
why
would
I
want
to
disrupt
a
prospering
career
in
journalism
for
the
opportunity
to
study
law?
It
comes
down
to
whether
I
want
to
be
the
person
covering
difference
makers
or
the
person
making
a
difference.
In
five
years
as
a
journalist
Ive
been
fortunate
to
have
had
a
front
row
seat
to
history,
coordinating
interviews
with
the
likes
of
Former
President
Bill
Clinton,
First
Lady
Laura
Bush,
and
Attorney
General
Alberto
Gonzales,
while
covering
an
inauguration,
several
hurricanes,
and
social
chasms
such
as
the
Schiavo
case.
These
unique
experiences
helped
me
realize
that
I
want
to
be
on
the
other
side
of
the
fence,
in
a
position
to
exert
influence
as
an
advocate
rather
than
a
neutral
observer.
I
envision
myself
taking
the
passion
I
have
seen
in
both
the
courtroom
and
the
county
board
room
and
helping
channel
it
into
resolutions
that
can
only
come
through
knowledge
and
appreciation
for
the
prevailing
law.
With
this
application
to
__________
I
am
taking
the
first
step
toward
realizing
my
calling
as
an
advocate,
a
difference
maker,
an
attorney.
LSAT:
173
GPA:
3.92
overall
Accepted:
Yale,
Harvard,
Chicago
($$$),
Columbia,
NYU,
Virginia
($$$),
Northwestern,
Vanderbilt
($$$,
withdrawn),
Notre
Dame
($$$),
UIUC
($$$),
UNC
Chapel
Hill
($$$),
Cardozo
($$$,
applied
when
I
was
going
to
apply
to
every
fee
waiver
school
and
wasn't
thinking
about
those
LSAC
$12
adding
up).
I'm
not
really
proud
of
the
first
statement;
HLS
had
a
two-page
limit,
and
since
I
recycled
it
for
everywhere
except
UNC
(for
which
I
combined
information
from
my
NU
DS
and
some
UG
admission
essays)
and
Yale
(for
which
I
added
information
about
my
interest
in
academia),
I
didn't
really
get
to
incorporate
all
the
information
that
I
wanted.
Please
forgive
any
overlooked
typos.
General
Statement
For
as
long
as
I
can
remember,
I
have
desired
to
understand
the
world
around
me.
When
I
was
younger,
an
interest
of
mine
was
language.
At
about
six
years
of
age,
I
attempted
to
teach
myself
various
languages,
from
Italian
to
Japanese,
and
although
I
did
not
have
much
success,
this
interest
remained
with
me.
Upon
entering
high
school
I
studied
Spanish
and
later
French,
which
exposed
me
to
the
cultures
in
which
they
are
used.
This
exposure
has
given
me
a
greater
appreciation
of
the
worlds
cultural
diversity.
During
my
senior
year
of
high
school,
I
participated
in
the
dual
enrollment
program,
taking
classes
at
a
college
near
my
home.
One
of
my
favorite
classes
was
Intermediate
Spanish,
since
the
topics
discussed
therein
often
required
a
great
deal
of
critical
thinking.
One
unit
discussed
religion,
which
tends
to
be
a
rather
controversial
topic,
due
to
the
intimate
nature
of
religious
belief
and
the
almost
universal
conviction
that
ones
own
beliefs
are
correct.
Nevertheless,
I
found
class
discussions
interesting
because
they
helped
me
to
see
the
connection
between
culture,
language,
and
religion.
Adherents
of
the
same
faith
often
differ
significantly
in
their
religious
expression
based
on
their
respective
cultures;
in
class,
we
saw
this
in
the
syncretism
of
Roman
Catholicism
with
the
religions
of
the
Caribbean
and
South
American
peoples
conquered
by
the
Spanish
and
with
the
religions
of
the
imported
African
Slaves.
Moreover,
I
saw
how
culture
and
religion
frequently
interact
with
language.
These
discussions
created
an
interest
in
the
study
of
religion.
10
management
students
presented
their
own
work.
The
students
of
Mathematics
and
Science
had
similar
fairs;
the
Science
majors
presented
us
their
research
(of
everything
from
mosquito
repellents
to
black
holes).
The
Mathematics
students
presented
their
own
projects
as
well,
which
demonstrated
the
importance
of
mathematics
in
every
aspect
of
life,
from
card
games
to
computers.
Social
Studies
students
also
gave
a
presentation
of
their
studies,
which
concentrated
primarily
on
wars.
Some
of
the
students
even
presented
a
documentary
that
they
produced
in
which
they
interviewed
veterans
of
several
wars.
The
GHP
experience
changed
my
life
in
many
ways.
Despite
the
number
of
years
that
have
passed,
I
continue
to
keep
in
contact
with
several
of
the
friends
that
I
made
five
summers
ago.
Meeting
all
the
other
brilliant
students
through
the
program
also
humbled
me;
in
my
experience,
it
had
been
rare
that
a
peer
of
mine
knew
more
than
I
did.
The
program
also
helped
me
to
appreciate
the
cultures
of
not
only
the
Spanish
and
Latinos,
but
also
of
people
worldwide.
The
lessons
that
I
learned
and
the
memories
that
I
acquired
in
the
Governors
Honors
Program
will
remain
with
me
for
life.
I
had
been
waiting
to
post
my
personal
statement
until
I
heard
back
from
every
school,
but
I'll
go
ahead
and
do
it
now
I
guess.
GPA:
4.10
(Columbia)
LSATs:
171,
178
Major:
Economics-Philosophy
(Not
a
double
major,
a
single
dual
major)
In:
Yale,
Stanford,
Columbia,
NYU
($25k,
$25k,
$12.5k),
Virginia
($23k
per
year),
Boalt,
Georgetown,
UCLA,
BU
($40k
per
year),
USC
Hold:
Penn
Still
Waiting:
Harvard
I
am
a
thinker,
but
not
one
to
think
out
loud.
I
love
myself,
but
am
not
in
love
with
the
sound
of
my
own
voice.
I
want
to
be
loved,
but
not
at
the
cost
of
not
loving
myself.
I
want
to
know
everything,
but
realize
that
nothing
can
ever
be
known
for
sure.
I
believe
that
nothing
is
absolute,
but
I
can
absolutely
defend
my
beliefs.
I
understand
that
chance
is
prevalent
in
all
aspects
of
life,
but
never
leave
anything
important
to
chance.
I
am
skeptical
about
everything,
but
realistic
in
the
face
of
my
skepticism.
I
base
everything
on
probability,
but
so
does
nature...probably.
I
believe
that
all
our
actions
are
determined,
but
feel
completely
free
to
do
as
I
choose.
I
do
not
believe
in
anything
resembling
a
God,
but
would
never
profess
omniscience
with
regard
to
such
issues.
I
have
faith
in
nothing,
but
trust
that
my
family
and
friends
will
always
be
faithful.
I
feel
that
religion
is
among
the
greatest
problems
in
the
world,
but
also
understand
that
it
is
perhaps
the
ultimate
solution.
I
11
recognize
that
many
people
derive
their
morals
from
religion,
but
I
insist
that
religion
is
not
the
only
fountainhead
of
morality.
I
respect
the
intimate
connection
between
morality
and
law,
but
do
not
believe
that
either
should
unquestioningly
respect
the
other.
I
want
to
study
the
law
and
become
a
lawyer,
but
I
do
not
want
to
study
the
law
just
because
I
want
to
become
a
lawyer.
I
am
aware
that
the
law
and
economics
cannot
always
be
studied
in
conjunction,
but
I
do
not
feel
that
either
one
can
be
properly
studied
without
an
awareness
of
the
other.
I
recognize
there
is
more
to
the
law
than
efficiency,
but
believe
the
law
should
recognize
the
importance
of
efficiency
more
than
it
does.
I
love
reading
about
law
and
philosophy,
but
not
nearly
as
much
as
I
love
having
a
good
conversation
about
the
two.
I
know
that
logic
makes
an
argument
sound,
but
also
know
that
passion
makes
an
argument
sound
logical.
I
have
philosophical
beliefs
informed
by
economics
and
economic
beliefs
informed
by
philosophy,
but
I
have
lost
track
of
which
beliefs
came
first.
I
know
it
was
the
egg
though.
I
always
think
very
practically,
but
do
not
always
like
to
think
about
the
practical.
I
have
wanted
to
be
a
scientist
for
a
while
now,
but
it
took
me
two
undergraduate
years
to
figure
out
that
being
a
scientist
does
not
necessarily
entail
working
in
a
laboratory.
I
play
the
saxophone
almost
every
day,
but
feel
most
like
an
artist
when
deduction
is
my
instrument.
I
spent
one
year
at
a
college
where
I
did
not
belong
and
two
years
taking
classes
irrelevant
for
my
major,
but
I
have
no
regrets
about
my
undergraduate
experience.
I
am
incredibly
passionate
about
my
interests,
but
cannot
imagine
being
interested
in
only
one
passion
for
an
entire
lifetime.
I
love
the
Yankees,
but
do
not
hate
the
Red
Sox.
I
love
sports,
but
hate
the
accompanying
anti-intellectual
culture.
I
may
read
the
newspaper
starting
from
the
back,
but
I
always
make
my
way
to
the
front
eventually.
I
am
liberal
on
some
issues
and
conservative
on
others,
but
reasonable
about
all
of
them.
I
will
always
be
politically
active,
but
will
never
be
a
political
activist.
I
think
everything
through
completely,
but
I
am
never
through
thinking
about
anything.
I
can
get
along
with
almost
anyone,
but
there
are
very
few
people
without
whom
I
could
not
get
along.
I
am
giving
of
my
time,
but
not
to
the
point
of
forgetting
its
value.
I
live
for
each
moment,
but
not
as
much
as
I
worry
about
the
next.
I
consider
ambition
to
be
of
the
utmost
importance,
but
realize
that
it
is
useless
without
the
support
of
hard
work.
I
am
a
very
competitive
person,
but
only
when
competing
with
myself.
I
have
a
million
dreams,
but
I
am
more
than
just
a
dreamer.
I
am
usually
content,
but
never
satisfied.
I
am
a
study
in
contradiction,
but
there
is
not
an
inconsistency
to
be
found.
12