Yale University Application Essays

I was about nine when I watched the PBS special “Yanni: Live at the Acropolis” with my extended family. My parents said Yanni was a piano virtuoso, for whatever that was worth to a nine year older. As I awaited in ‘enthusiastic anticipation’, our virtuoso…

When my mother caught the flu last winter, I researched the developmental process of Tamiflu, the medicine she was prescribed, and how it operated to prevent the disease from progressing. I learned how researchers identified a specific protein used for viral transmission, utilized computational tools…

I play the B. A small square office, no more than ten feet wide, holds two upright mahogany pianos sitting back-to-back. The metronome marks the beat, ta-ta-ta-ta, first 100 beats per minute, then 105, 110, working toward 120. The door is closed, the hall empty….

“You have a choice to make. If you choose to publish that article, you will be responsible for ruining the reputation of the school. Do you want to have that on your shoulders?” Assistant Principal Jeff Dingo asked me sternly. The following day, Principal Joe…

The summer I turned thirteen, in the sticky humidity of a Circassian town in northern Turkey, I received two gifts. “Leave that book aside for a minute,” my grandfather said, walking into the living room with a leather case. I don’t remember what the book…

Wedding bells were ringing in the background, and my fingers were deftly picking their way through the Rubik’s Cube concealed under my blazer. The last wedding I had attended was in fourth grade — a bubble boy in a lavender suit. Today, my only role…

Leaping over crooked crevices in the sidewalk, my childhood self hopped a few yards ahead of my grandfather. As I paused to scrutinize a colorful candy wrapper, the smell of melting sugar drifted from a small blue cart where an old woman flipped flat buns…

Eight years ago, I was a plastic surgeon – then again, anyone could say that after watching an entire season of Dr. 90210. My mother was my main patient, with the tummy tuck being her favorite procedure. Instead of a scalpel, my most faithful tool…

During my junior year of high school, I moved homes and got my own bathroom. For a sixteen-year-old, this is second best to getting your own car. I was elated. I would no longer have to worry about my brothers taking candid photos of me…

At a strange intersection of customs exists my cultural essence; I am the product of an infinitely improbable arrangement of DNA. Seemingly, Fate threw darts at a board to select my parents from the world’s population, and just this once they landed on a Nicaraguan…