Is Every College Essay Read? How Many Admissions Officers Read Them?

Is Every College Essay Read? How Many Admissions Officers Read Them? It is ironic to see artists, whose independence is essential for the creative process, being manipulated by the state through petty materialistic entitlements. Artists here worry more about the size of summer house they will receive for their vacation than their work. When the value of their work is questioned, they affirm their lack of talent; yet their social position is too valuable to give up, as reflected in the thoughts of the poet Riuchin. When a poet who has met the devil calls Riuchin a talentless artist, he accepts the claim and inwardly agrees that he does not believe in his writing. He understands that the society needs artists like him. When I finished Pride and Prejudice, I thought it would quickly be replaced by another book and my love for it left behind snug in the worn out pages of my copy. I found more happy endings after that, not all too surprising but none had the same effect as Pride and Prejudice&mash;that feeling of a book leaving its fingerprint on you. The Book Thief offered my first insight into a world painted in shades of grey, my first introduction to what would become my quest for understandingâ€"of humanity, of the world around me, of myself. It inspired me as a learner and as a writer to explore and question and, above all, to define my own truth. Inside the front cover was scribbled a name, illegible. The book, or so my dad told me, had been given to him as a gift from a patient, but he had never even opened it. Instead it had been reconciled to a life on the shelf, watching the world but not participating in it. The tone of each book seemed to have a distinctive resonance; they quickened different parts of my being. I was raised on Roald Dahl, J.D. Salinger, C.S. Lewis, John Steinbeck, and J.R.R Tolkien. I came across Pride and Prejudice at a cheap bookstore, it was all weathered and yellowed and had the dusty scent of a book that was well worn in. I judged the book by its pretty, lavender cover and just had to buy it. My reaction to literature was largely emotionalâ€"I could sense the tones and vaguely grasp the meanings of the novels. I could not, however, decode them in a way that allowed their import to live on, linguistically, within me. Have a few people review it.Once you have completed a draft, ask someone you trust to review your work. Ask them to check for grammatical errors and provide feedback. They were approachable, easy enough for a child to follow, and yet monumentally more vast, multifaceted, and meaningful than they appeared to me at the time. Even so, from a young age, I could tell a good book from a bad one. It wasn’t until my teenage years, however, that I could tell you what made these books good, or express what they meant in terms of almost anything but plot. At first read, I was enamoured with Mr. Darcy, yearning for a love story as deep and profound as in the novel. Little, fifth grade me just hoped that maybe the next day in class the boy sitting next to me might profess that he loved me all along. Mediocrity is appreciated since it does not question the status quo. Throughout my high school career we were stuck on these desks, asked to raise our hands to speak, told what was right from wrong, all around a very uninspiring environment. I had no idea how a classroom could be thought-provoking and truly educational until I went to the Summer Academy at St. John’s. In the seminars I felt an energy of pure passion, every single person shared this love for learning that I had neverexperienced before. I had never been in a classroom where we were so freely allowed to ask questions. I realized that was what learning should be and that is how I want to learn. At the end of my eighth grade year we moved to Texas and as I was packing, I stumbled upon my copy of Pride and Prejudice. It was all bent and worn and it looked longingly at me as if it had been waiting for me. I picked up the book and read it in a single sitting, almost five consecutive hours enraptured by it. The Book Thief, in exploring such a profound theme, stood in a stark contrast to the mechanical nature of the public education system through which I’ve journeyed. In my prior schooling, we were taught to accept only one truth as the absolute truth. It changed my perceptions of myself and of the world around me. More pieces of the puzzle left by my forbearers, both Jewish and German, fall into place. My first introduction to The Book Thief came when I plucked it from the bookshelf in my dad’s officeâ€"with permission, for I felt no desire to fulfill the irony of stealing a book about thievery. Fingers fumbling over the smooth cover and crisp spine, I prepared myself for a new journey. It had a distinct new-book smell, fresh and crisp and full of promise.