Johns Hopkins University Application Essays

Out of breath and hurting all over, I drip with sweat in the midst of a six-minute wrestling bout with my friend, James. While fighting on the bottom and gasping for air, I am reminded of Einstein’s words: “When you are courting a nice girl…

My greatest interests and passions are immunology, allergy, and epidemiology. These areas have evolved throughout the years. My fascination with pathology started in the first grade with a basic science fair project on environments conducive to mold growth on bread. Eventually, this interest shifted into…

We tickle the roots, gently roll the stump into the pre-dug hole, and begin filling empty spaces with moist, rich soil. We work in silence. As the last layer of mulch is added to the donut ring around our scrawny oak tree, I wipe the…

Everyone thinks me strange because I love it all as though it were a person. I love the quiet road named after my great-uncle Pintor Ruano as though it were my great-uncle himself; I love the old church like an old friend; I love the…

I grabbed my first camera in sixth grade. I would grasp the handle of the silver Sony camcorder like slipping on a comfortable glove, and glide my thumb over the intricate aluminum buttons, finally putting it to rest on top of the big red dot…

“This is a nightmare,” I thought. Sean was on the ground wincing in pain and blood was slowly leaking through his spandex. A million things raced through my mind but I stopped, took a deep breath, collected my thoughts and got to work. Sean had…

The snow crunched underneath my feet as I walked, and I wondered how it must have felt to step on the moon. I had decided to make the most of the cloudy day by exploring and taking pictures at a local state park. Was the…

My heart is hammering as sweat drips like tears down the side of my warm, sticky face. Blood, propelled by adrenaline, races throughout my body. Twisting open the bottled water I bought earlier, I sit down on the blue-green grass, looking at the tessellation of…

On January 14th, 2002, my father stopped reading to me. Early on, my bibliophile father decided he would never dictate a lesson or give me an answer, but rather that I would learn through literature. Every celebration, every birthday or holiday I was given a…

A few times a week, I make the hour-long trek from my home in the suburbs to my fencing school in West Philadelphia. As I drive to practice, suburban towns slowly fade into red and brown brick row homes, until all around me are boarded…