Sample Essay 3
Princeton, Childhood experience: A fishing trip
Reluctantly smearing sunblock over every exposed inch of my fifty-three pound body, I prepared
mentally for the arduous task that lay ahead of me. After several miserable fishing ventures
which had left my skin red and my hook bare, I felt certain that, at last, my day had arrived. I
stood ready to clear the first hurdle of manhood, triumph over fish. At the age of seven, I was
confident that my rugged, strapping body could conquer any obstacle. Pity the fish that would
become the woeful object of the first demonstration of my male prowess.
Engaging me deeply was my naive eagerness to traverse the chasm dividing boy from man. In
fact, so completely absorbed was I in my thoughts that the lengthy journey to our favorite fishing
spot seemed fleeting. The sudden break in the droning of the engine snapped me to reality.
Abruptly jarred back into the world, I fumbled for my fishing pole. Dangling the humble rods
end over the edge of the boat, I released the bail on the reel and plunked the cheap plastic lure
into the water. Once I had let out enough line and set the rod in a holder, I sat back to wait for an
attack on the lure. The low hum of the motor at trolling speed only added to my anxiety, like the
instrumental accompaniment to a horror film. And then it hit. A sharp tug on the line pulled me
to my feet faster than an electric shock. I bounded to the pole, and when I reached it, I yanked it
out of the holder with all of my might. My nervous energy was so potent that when I tugged on
the rod, I nearly plunged headlong over the side of the boat and into the fishs domain. Although
adrenaline streamed through my veins, after five minutes both my unvanquishable strength and
my superhuman will were waning steadily. Just when I was fully prepared to surrender to the
fish and, with that gesture, succumb to a life of discontentment, pain, and sorrow, the fish
performed a miraculous feat. Shocked and instantly revived, I watched as the mahi-mahi leapt
from the oceans surface. The mahi-mahis skin gleamed with radiant hues of blue, green, and
yellow in a breathtaking spray of surf. Brilliant sunlight beamed upon the spectacle, giving life to
a scene which exploded into a furious spectrum of color. The exotic fish tumbled majestically
back to the sea amidst a blast of foam. With this incredible display, the fish was transformed
from a pitiful victim to a brilliant specimen of life. I cared no longer for any transcendent ritual I
must perform, but rather, I longed only for the possession of such a proud creature. I hungered to
touch such a wonder and share the fantastic bond that a hunter must feel for his kill. I needed to
have that fish at any cost.
The fight lasted for only ten minutes; nevertheless, it was a ten minutes which I will never forget.
When my fish neared the boat, I felt more energized than I had when the fish first struck. At my
fathers command, I netted the fish and hauled it into the bottom of the boat. I was nearly bursting
with exhilaration. Released from the net, the fish dropped to the bottom of the boat with a hollow
thud, and my jaw dropped with it. I stared in complete horror at the violently thrashing fish
which was now at my feet. Within minutes, all of the fishs vibrance, color and life had vanished.
Instead, came blood. Lots of blood. It sprayed from its mouth. It sprayed from its gills. Shortly,
the boat was coated with the red life blood of the mahi-mahi. It now lay twitching helplessly
while it gasped and choked for oxygen in the dry air. I felt sickened, disgusted, and utterly lost in
heart-wrenching pity. As I watched the color drain from the fish, leaving it a morbid pale-yellow,
I realized that I was responsible for the transformation of a creature of brilliance and life into a
pitiful, dying beast.
Despite my brothers cheers and praises, I rode back to shore in bitter silence. I could not help
thinking about the vast difference between the magnificent creature which I saw jump in the sea
and the pathetic beast which I saw gasping for life in the bloody pit of the boat. What struck me
most forcefully on that day, though, was the realization that I was no mere bystander to this
desecration. I was the sole cause. Had I not dropped the hook into the water, the fish undoubtedly
would still be alive. I, alone, had killed this fish.
In retrospect, I am relieved that I reacted in such a way to my passage from boyhood to
manhood. Although my views about many things, hunting and fishing included, have changed
considerably since that day, I still retain a powerful conscience which actively molds my
personality. One cannot dispute the frightening potential of the human race to induce the
permanent extinction of every life form on the planet. As the ability to change the world on a
global scale is arguably limited to one breed of life, so, too, is the force which impedes
instinctual and conscious action, the human conscience. My own sense of strong moral principle
reaches far beyond simply averting Armageddon, however. I often find myself unable to
disregard this force of moral and social responsibility in whatever I do. Part of my keen social
conscience is demonstrated in the effort I have made to be a positive intellectual leader among
my classmates and in the community. Realizing how lucky I am to have been born with a high
aptitude for learning, I feel sorry that others who also work very hard cannot achieve like I have
nor be rewarded with success as I have been. In a leadership role, I hope to constructively guide
my peers to find their own success and see the fruition of their own goals. By serving as class
president for three consecutive years, as founder, member, and chairman of the peer counseling
society, and as a peer tutor, I have enabled others to reach their goals, while finding personal
gratification at the same time. I am fortunate in that I have been given the opportunity to
optimize the usefulness of my personal virtues in helping others; I can only hope to continue
heeding my conscience in work as a research chemist, or whatever I may do in the future. It is
my right and my obligation, for I firmly maintain that the charge of a humanitarian conscience is
one which each person must eternally bear for the good of humankind and all the world.
Comments:
"A good example of how a talented writer can make a standard topic appealing" was the general
consensus. One officer did think, though, that the writer got "overzealous" with his language and
could have avoided some of the more corpulent sentences like, "Engaging me deeply was my
naive eagerness to traverse the chasm dividing boy from man," by writing with a simpler, more
natural voice.
I really enjoyed this essay. It starts with a wonderful, humorous touch, but describes vividly and
movingly the young boy's first experience with death and with personal responsibility.
In reading this essay, I get a strong impression of the kind of person this young man must be,
someone full of good humor, but great sensitivity as well. His easy way with the language
convinces me that he would be an excellent student, and a welcome addition to the class.
This was a nicely written piece. This student took time to think about this experience and was
able to articulate his memories of his fishing adventure rather well. This could have been
another bland essay but the writer took you on the adventure with him, from boyhood to
manhood.
I like the way he took his fishing adventure and transitioned to his life today and how and what
he learned from it.
What I liked most about the essay was that the writer told of an experience in his childhood and
was able to take that experience and make the connection to his life and goals of today.